Bad Friends

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

  We sit down to dinner at my tiny little table in the living room and he’s even put a flower in a tiny vase. He pours a glass of elderflower water for each of us and proposes a toast.

  “To new beginnings,” he says, and I drink to that.

  Tucking into my dinner, I discover he really did push the boat out; the flavours are strong but complementary and he’s thrown in tiny shards of carrot and Spanish sausage to mix it up.

  “It’s really good,” I tell him, diving in for more.

  “Good, it’s kept me busy most of the day. Not much else to do.”

  I know he’s scared of going out because of the urge to drink. Plus, if he calls any one of his friends to meet up, he’ll be the social pariah not wanting a drink. That’s half the battle for Paul, I think. Drink is so ingrained in both of our social lives.

  “How was your day?” he asks.

  “I’ve been offered something new.”

  I let him absorb that for a moment as I chew through another mouthful.

  “Yeah, what?” He stares at me, surprised.

  “They want me to work with the police. Apparently, I’ve impressed my colleagues and now they want me to be a consultant on mental health related calls that come in. It’d be crazy shifts but I’d get more days off in between and it’s better pay, more challenging and intense but on the front line, so to speak.”

  “Is that really a thing?” His eyes are wide.

  “Yeah, it’d involve prioritising which calls are most urgent. It’s getting to be a major thing now. They’re getting all these calls. And did you know, a great percentage of homeless people have mental health issues and the police try to intervene when they can. I mean, it’s not like there’s people like me on the streets to advise… the police are overwhelmed with mental health-related incidents. They’re taking on so much themselves and they need help from people like me. It’s going to be a reality check, let’s just say that.”

  Paul stares at me and smiles. “You’re amazing, you know. You really are.”

  I’m lying in bed wondering if I should cave and let him in. After dinner we sat and watched TV, his arm around me, our bellies full of pasta and then the chocolate bombe he bought in for me, too. I’m not sure I’m ready to trust him again, that’s all. It’s also crossed my mind that if I do take the new position, will that make it easier for Paul to drink when I’m not here? Not only drink… but who knows what. Can I trust him?

  It’s been a few days now going without and I’m horny but also still resolved to make him pay for how much he hurt me. Also, I can’t get Theo out of my mind. He really stuck up for me and pushed back against that gross saying ‘bros before hoes’. He’s also not messaged me all week and it hurts. He’s probably my best friend. The girls have always been here for me and always will be, but only Theo seems to have understood me when I’ve talked to him about my feelings for Paul and how for so long, they felt unrequited. I miss him. I do. He kipped on my sofa many times after a few drinks, but he also sort of crept into my daily routine. We’d always text good morning, even goodnight. I’d tell him about something gross I saw on the way home from work, because there’s a lot to see on the city streets, and he’d tell me about his latest disastrous audition and how he knew he wasn’t going to get it so performed the whole thing in a Glaswegian accent just for kicks, even though he was going up for a role as a scouse or a cockney. He kept me going during some of my darkest ever days. And where was Paul? With his cock either in that older blonde woman… or the Japanese girlfriend he so far hasn’t mentioned at all.

  I switch off the bedside lamp and lie back, looking up at the ceiling. My mind is whirring and it doesn’t feel like it’s going to switch off anytime soon. I consider turning the light back on and reading a chapter of the book Theo bought me for Christmas – it’s been slow reading with my heart so mashed up all the time. Probably not worth trying again. I’ve had this inability to settle down to anything ever since Paul fucked me and left me at that hotel. I try to get calm and focus on reading or watching a film or something, but my mind always wanders to the stuff he did and how my heart still feels like it has a hole in it.

  I reach into my bedside drawer and bring out the rabbit. It might be the only thing to get me off and get me to sleep. Tugging down my pyjama bottoms, I kick them the rest of the way off and whip my top off over my head. Lubing up the rabbit, I grin knowing that even if I have it on the lowest setting, Paul will still hear it from the next room. The thrumming noise will be unmistakable and also, I’m more often than not unable to stop myself moaning because of how good this thing is.

  Spreading my legs, I push the cool head of the rabbit against my clit and tease myself a bit, rubbing around my clit in circles to get the party started. Playing with my nipples, they’re hard in no time and I let my legs fall loose so I’m fully open beneath the duvet. Why do we need men when there are unyielding plastic objects to make us go wild? I don’t know… because an orgasm with one of these inside you is something new entirely.

  I wait until the tip of the rabbit is warm and I feel wet and ready. I’m thinking about Paul, imagining him watching me. He’s got a hard-on, watching, his hand against the doorframe, his cock stood up and flicking back and forth, possessed with energy and need. I plunge the rabbit inside me and slip it in and out a few times. God, I need to be filled, all the time. It’s insane. Ever since Paul that Christmas, when we fucked in Chloe’s mum’s downstairs bathroom, I’ve been dying and wishing for another night like that. I thought I got it at Adam’s wedding, but that was just… pity. He fucked me out of pity. Whereas our Christmas fucking felt like more – it felt like Paul trying to win me or save me or make me his. It felt natural, unrehearsed and real.

  I bite my lip trying not to moan when I flick the rabbit into motion, the little prongs vibrating against my clit, the head swirling and throbbing inside me. It’s almost criminal how quickly I feel the blood stir beneath my clit, a volcanic eruption pending. I can only hold it in place as my body caves, giving in to this ridiculous double pleasure. I squeeze my eyes shut, legs shaking, as my pussy contracts wildly down the length of the rabbit, gushing and bearing down hard on the thick pink shaft of glorious naughtiness inside me. I can’t help a little welp escape me as I turn the rabbit off and still continue to ride the shocks rippling through my core. It was quick, almost too easy and too deep, but it’s better than nothing.

  In the dark I search for my robe and knot it tight at my waist. I jam the rabbit in my pocket and put my hand on the doorknob, listening out for any sign of life out there. Doesn’t sound like it.

  I open the door and hear the unmistakable sound of a hand gripping a cock tight and slapping up and down against it. My eyes are adjusted to the dark so in the few seconds I have before catching him out, I see he’s completely naked and has his legs spread, wanking himself off like a fiend. His stomach muscles are ripped, his body on the cusp, his thighs thick and jiggling. Wow. So did he hear me? Or is this what he does every night?

  I switch the living-room light on and immediately, he grabs the covers and tries to smother what it is he’s been doing. He turns his head to check out why I’m here and looks breathless.

  “What? I wasn’t doing anything. Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

  I burst out laughing and head for the bathroom as quick as I can, slamming the door behind me. I have to bite my tongue as I wash the rabbit under the water, trying not to laugh out loud.

  Taking a deep breath, I head back into the living room and discover he’s fully bundled up, embarrassed and ignoring me. I chuckle to myself and switch the light off as I pass back into the bedroom. I don’t think about what I do next.

  I disrobe and climb into bed naked, lying still, waiting to see if he notices I haven’t shut the door. It takes him a few minutes before he’s in the doorway, the city light behind him illuminating his tall, masculine outline. He’s naked but I can’t see the front of him which is in shadow.

  “What were you doing?”
he asks, the grit in his voice making my clit ache again.

  “What do you think I was doing?”

  “Wanking off.”

  “No, that was what you were doing. I was enjoying multiple orgasms, thank you very much.”

  He’s across the room in seconds and throws open the covers, diving on top of me. Our heat turns to flame as his skin covers mine and I spread my legs immediately, crying out when he pushes straight into me, so hard and ready for me. I link my ankles behind his back and groan when he kisses me forcefully, nipping my bottom lip, his tongue deep in my mouth. I grab his hair and cling on, tugging and pulling so it’ll hurt, but all he does in return is kiss me, all over. He kisses my mouth, then my cheek, my eyelids when they’re shut. He kisses my throat, behind my ear when I turn my head, my breast, my nipple, the underside of my arm where it’s sensitive, the thin skin of my chest and my chin, my earlobe, my mouth again… his tongue gentle, his teeth ravenous and his lips soft one minute, sucking the next, then pushing down against my mouth as though I’ve tortured him and now he must torture me.

  He pounds home, rocking the bed, and I scratch my nails all the way down his back as I come screaming his name, needing and wanting him so much, the feel of his flesh inside me like nothing else, then his cum satisfying me in ways nothing else ever could. He buries his head in my neck, his breathing hoarse as he catches his breath. I love it that he’s twitching inside me still.

  He rolls off me to the side and covers us with the duvet, tugging me against him so we’re side by side, facing one another. He strokes his fingers down my cheeks and searches my eyes in the dark even though all colour is impossible in my room, the blackout curtains more than doing their job.

  He guides my thigh around his body and tugs me close, touching his lips gently to mine, his beard shaggy and unkempt from all my tugging, pulling and no doubt his ministrations all over my body.

  “I can’t be without you,” he says, even more hoarse, “it’s hell not having you by my side when I wake up. I need to feel your warmth and your beautiful hair covering my arms. I need to see your eyes when you open them. I need to touch your mouth with mine when you’re asleep, just to remind you I’m here and I’m not going anywhere else. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything my whole life and I’m not letting you go, ever again. You belong with me because I need to look after you. It’s become all that makes sense. It’s become something I didn’t know I needed, but I do, I need to look after you and you need to let me. I know now what my purpose is. I know where I belong and it’s with you.”

  I wrap one arm around his shoulders, digging my hand into his hair, my other hand against his face. “Okay then.”

  His eyes shine even in the dark and he sighs with relief, moving in to kiss my mouth again, featherlight little touches that send electricity coursing through my veins. Paul slides his hand down my back and tugs me closer, locking our bodies together, his palm gripping my bum cheek, his fingers spread, holding me firm. All I’ve ever needed is his hand against my bottom like this, showing me that he wants me, that I’m his.

  His kisses are slow and tender and I completely surrender to his touch, moving when he moves, slipping my tongue gently around his, touching and caressing, then his two lips suckle one of mine and I get lost, the pleasure of him taking his time slowly and surely drawing me deeper and deeper under his spell until I can’t feel myself anymore, just him, his touch… which is telling me he’s sorry, he’s desperate, he’s contrite, he needs me and he appreciates me. With his body he’s telling me all the things he struggles to say because he hasn’t ever felt like he can say them… because speaking about his feelings hasn’t ever been anything he was encouraged to do.

  He shifts down the bed a few inches and brings me towards him, inching himself between my legs. He’s at the level of my breasts and kisses one, then the other, flicking his tongue over the bud, then sucking, all my joy wrapped up in him sucking my breasts.

  He rocks into me, just the tip of his cock against my clit, becoming slick again because of my cum. With my arms wrapped around his head holding him to me, I rock back into him, so slowly, aching for more. My breasts yearn so much for his touch, I have goosebumps all over and can feel every time even a single blade of his hair touches me, let alone his full beard.

  “Oh, god. Paul.”

  “You need me, baby?”

  “Always.”

  “I love your tits. You have the most beautiful boobs.” He’s holding them, brushing his beard against them, nudging his cheek into them, then his mouth, then his whole face. “They’re going to get big when we have babies. They’re going to get dangly, not all tight and high and perky like now, your eager little buds pointing right at my lips, desperate for me. No, one day they’re gonna be saggy and all over my face and I can’t wait. I need to be here with you through all that.”

  “Oh, fuck,” I groan, as his cockhead continues to do all kinds of things to the bud of nerves at the crest of my sex, now swollen and sizzling with every insistent push of his slippery tip.

  He sucks hard on my nipple and I look down, watching his cheeks hollow as he refuses to apologise for causing me pain, his moves making my chest even tighter than I thought possible. He jabs his cock against my clit and the heat becomes too much, I overflow and give in, crying out as he slurps on my breasts, desperate to have all of me.

  He shifts upwards again and slips his tongue into my mouth, exploring more of me, licking everywhere, caressing the insides of my cheeks, even. I’m on my side and so is he when he slips both hands around my waist, then slides them down to my bottom, holding both of my cheeks. He encourages me to hike my leg up around his waist and he pushes his cock against my opening, his hands on my bum directing me until we merge perfectly. I keep breathing to cope with the intrusion of his hard cock inside my super sensitive core.

  “I’m never leaving you again,” he murmurs against my mouth, staring right into my eyes.

  A single tear slides down my cheek. “I love you so much.”

  He brushes his mouth so tenderly against mine, his soft lips making me forget he even has that huge thick beard.

  “I just didn’t know it could be like this,” he whispers, “I didn’t know this was what it was all about, and now I’ve got it, I’m hooked. It’s better than anything.”

  He holds me so tight, still with his hands firmly around my bottom, directing me back and forth along his cock, my sensitive insides pierced every time he fills me again… and again… and again.

  I hold my hands against his chest, his body hair wrapped around my fingers, my legs tangled around him, our bodies each other’s to hold, to possess and to take joy from.

  “Lily,” he growls, and I watch his face as he comes, knowing nothing else will ever matter to me as much as seeing him this happy.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The next morning it’s like a dream. I think perhaps… it was… but now it’s real. I stretch my arms above my head, feeling warm and sensual and aroused, and suddenly it becomes clear to me why. He’s going down on me and woken me up, like this. All my senses immediately awaken to high alert and I reach beneath the covers, dig my hands in his hair and rock against his mouth. Within seconds, I come, gasping and spluttering, moaning.

  He crawls up my body, wriggles his hips between my legs and kisses me good morning. Then he fills me with fire, causing me to throw my head back and dig my nails in his shoulders.

  It’s all over before I’ve even had chance to really appreciate him. I’m so wound up for him now, it’s easy.

  We lie in each other’s arms, catching our breath, tenderly stroking each other’s faces.

  “Last day at work today.”

  “When are you back at work?”

  “Wednesday.”

  He pecks my cheek. “How about a weekend away?”

  “Really?” I sit up.

  “Why not?”

  “Just us two?”

  “Well, I don’t wanna fuck anyone else a
ll weekend long, do I?” he chuckles.

  “And we’ll eat, of course?” I giggle.

  “We’ll eat, sleep, fuck, bathe… damn, we may even go to the cinema.”

  Excitement catches me in her arms and I wrestle around the bed with him, ending up on top. He brushes the hair back from my face and holds my cheeks.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “If it’s not too expensive.”

  “I’ll get something last minute, you’ll see.” He gives me a wink, then slides off the bed to grab his laptop from the floor. I could watch him all day, naked and with a laptop covering his modesty. However, I have a job to do and if I don’t get my last day out of the way, I’ll not be able to enjoy my holiday… that’s if he finds something.

  I’m in the shower when he shouts through. “How about the Cotswolds? They have something half price and it has a hot tub.”

  “YES!”

  “Okay.”

  I hear him wander off and I silently pray it’s not all just a dream.

  I leave the shower and he’s in bed, still with the laptop, but now with the phone to his ear and a credit card in his hand.

  “Yeah, that’s done, then? Great!” he says into the receiver.

  He’s off the phone and shouts, “DONE!”

  I leap at him and we kiss like demons all over again.

  “I’ve got to go to work, baby.” I manage to extract myself but he’s still got a hard-on as I’m getting dressed. I’m pulling on my tights when I decide, “I’m going to say no to that job.”

  “Oh, why?” he asks.

  “It’s too soon. For me. It’s a hefty responsibility. I’m putting myself first for a change.”

  He takes such a deep breath, his nose whistles. Covering himself with the duvet, he also folds his arms.