by L. S. Pullen
Spreading me open, he teases, strokes and licks. He’s salacious in his act as he builds me higher and higher until I’m free-falling into a wave of pleasure. I love that he keeps going, allowing me to ride out my orgasm.
I can hardly catch my breath when he crawls up to cup my face in his hands, his lips glistening with my arousal before he takes me in a sweet and tender un-rushed kiss, and I savour every moment.
When he draws back, his eyes scan my face, and it’s only now I notice he is still fully clothed.
Reaching between us, I unbuckle his belt and pop the button on his jeans, his erection straining to be free.
“Off.”
Ethan makes quick work of removing them, and it’s impossible not to appreciate his body. I lean forward and trail my tongue over his abs and follow the ‘V’ until my tongue meets the tip of his engorged head, leaking with pre-cum.
Heady from his arousal, I tease him before taking him into my mouth. My fingers massage his balls before moving to his perineum. His breathing hitches, and he becomes even harder. I pull back and look up at him.
“I want to touch you there,” I say, my voice trembling with both nerves and excitement.
He bites his lip, then reaches into his drawer and pulls out a tube of lube.
“Give me your hand,” he says, low and gravelly.
I do as he instructs, and he adds it to my fingers before he slowly moves my hand to his back passage.
“You’ll tell me if I’m doing it wrong or if you don’t like it?” I ask.
He nods. “I will, but you won’t. I’ll guide you through it.”
His hand directs me to his anus. “Now, just massage it gently. Remember to stop if you want to, at any time.”
I love how he’s more concerned about me at this moment than his own pleasure.
He begins to relax with my touch––and the more stimulated he becomes.
“That’s good. You can slowly work your finger inside me, if you want…” he says.
And I do. I take my time, easing into him gently. My eyes flicking up to see the satisfied look on his face is a turn on all on its own. Once I’m past my second knuckle, his breathing becomes choppy.
“Curve your finger,” he says breathlessly, and I do, wiggling it just a fraction, and I feel something the size of a walnut, and I know it’s his prostate. He takes hold of his dick in his hand and starts to pump it up and down as I add pressure with my finger. I’m fixated on watching him come undone.
“Oh fuck,” he says as the pleasure builds.
When he begins to orgasm, his entire body shudders with his release as he comes all over his hand and stomach. I swear I almost came just from watching.
I slowly ease myself out of him when he wriggles away. And I know he’s probably over-sensitive there now.
“You ruin me, Lottie,” he says, his arm falling over his eyes.
“Was it okay?” I ask.
He moves his arm so he can look at me. “No, it was fucking perfect,” he replies.
Ethan
To say Lottie brought me to new heights of pleasure is an understatement. The fact she’s willing to try this with me blows my mind, literally. I’ve only ever played with myself up until now, and I swear I’ve never had a full-body orgasm quite so powerful. Not only that, she went out of her comfort zone and bought toys so she could explore this with me.
Lottie scoots off the bed and returns with a flannel. I reach for it, but she shakes her head. “No, let me,” she says as she wipes my seed from my stomach. She returns to the bathroom, and I follow, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She looks up, and her eyes connect with mine as she smiles.
I pull her to my chest. Swiping her hair off her shoulder, I lean down and pepper her with kisses.
“Are you okay after that?” I ask, stroking her arm.
I don’t ever want her doing something just to please me.
She nods. “I am. I almost climaxed from watching you come,” she says, her cheeks flushing.
And fuck me if the thought doesn’t turn me on.
“You did? Does that mean you’re still aroused?” I ask, reaching around and pinching her nipple between my thumb and forefinger. My other hand squeezes her throat.
“Touch yourself,” I order.
Her eyes spring to mine in the mirror, her lips parted.
“I want to see you come,” I say, nipping on her earlobe.
She arches into me, and I step back, bringing her with me to get a better view.
I let go of her nipple, move my hand to her pussy, and dip my fingers between her folds, coating them with her arousal before bringing them to her mouth.
“Suck them,” I say, and she does as her eyes drift closed. “Now touch yourself,” I order. She lets out a moan around my fingers still in her mouth as her hand moves lower, and then she hooks a finger inside herself and begins to rock into it.
“Do you want me to touch you where you touched me?” I whisper in her ear. Her eyes spring open as I remove my fingers from her mouth.
She gives the slightest nod of her head.
“I need to hear you say the word, baby.”
“Yes,” she says breathlessly.
“Keep touching yourself, but spread your legs a little further apart,” I say, nudging her ankle with my foot. She complies.
“Now bend forward, and whatever you do, don’t stop touching yourself, okay?”
Lottie nods as my hand trails over her spine until her arse is where I want it.
I spread her cheeks and tap her back passage gently, and she tenses.
“Try to relax. If at any point it’s too much, just say stop.”
My fingers are wet, coated with her spit as I gently probe her back passage and ease my middle finger into her, up to the first knuckle. She freezes, and I hear her suck in a breath. “It’s okay, baby, remember to breathe,” I coax, gently wiggling my finger. “Keep touching yourself,” I remind her when I no longer feel her moving her fingers.
And then I’m up to my second knuckle. “Okay?” I ask.
“Yes,” she pants. “I can feel your finger against mine,” she says in surprise. I can feel it too, and fuck me if it doesn’t make me hard all over again.
“Do you like it?” I ask.
She nods her head. “Yes,” she breathes.
“Keep moving,” I say. As she pushes her finger in, I pull mine out––an even rhythm. “Oh my God,” she hisses, and I know she’s close. With my other hand, I reach around and ease her palm back enough so I can tease her clit. “It’s too much, I can’t,” she says, but I continue circling her with my thumb.
“Eth-an…” She sighs as she tightens around my finger, and she comes––hard. I’m holding her up now and don’t ease up until she starts to come back down.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say I love you, but I don’t want it to be in the throes of passion when I finally admit she has me inside out and come completely undone. She’s it for me––my forever.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Charlotte
It’s been a crazy few weeks. I’ve been busy with work and trying to find time to fit everything else in-between has started to take a toll. At first, I thought maybe I was coming down with a cold, but this chronic fatigue is getting worse, and the more I try to ignore it, the harder it’s becoming. Then there are my mood swings. Even Ethan’s noticed, and honestly, I don’t even know why he’s been putting up with me.
I called in sick to work today, something I rarely do, but I learned a long time ago to listen to my body, and it sure is screaming at me now.
“Hey, you look like shit.”
I glance over my shoulder as Vi walks into the kitchen, and I don’t even have the energy to argue her assessment. Shrugging, I finish filling my glass with water. With my body heavy, I head back to my room. Vi’s footsteps echo behind me, and I know she’s following me. I take a sip of water and then climb back into bed, but before I can crawl under the duvet, the mattress dips and
she drops down beside me, covering us both with the duvet.
“Hey, what is it? Talk to me,” she says, her eyes scanning my face in concern.
I bite on my lip, not wanting to say it out loud, but knowing there is no escaping reality.
“I’ve just not been feeling well for weeks, and the last time I felt this was when I was diagnosed with my kidneys.”
She visibly swallows and then reaches out, moving some hair away from my face.
“Okay, well, try not to panic. First things first, get an appointment with your GP and we’ll see what they say before we start thinking the worst.”
I frown. “What do you mean, we?”
Smiling, she flicks the end of my nose, causing my eyes to water. “Ouch,” I say, swatting her away.
“I’ll come with you. I know what you’re like. You’ll keep putting it off otherwise. Besides, you’re my best friend. I’m not letting you get all caught up in your head.”
“Thank you,” I say, which hardly seems enough.
“Listen, I have an audition to get to, but call the surgery now and get an appointment, okay?”
I nod, and she leans over, wrapping me in a hug before slipping out of bed.
“Break a leg,” I call out when she reaches the door. She turns to me and smiles. Even though she appears confident on the outside and is––for the most part––pursuing her dream, this is important to her, and I know her big break is coming––I just know it.
“And you call the surgery,” she says in her most serious ‘mum’ voice.
Once I hear the front door click closed, I reach for my phone, and when I find myself in the queue at number twenty-nine, I almost hang up. But fuck it, what else am I going to do? I put it on speaker. The monotonous ‘hold’ music followed by my queue position echoes in the room, until eventually, it’s my turn. I’m grateful the receptionist can get me an appointment for tomorrow.
I managed to sleep for a few hours, but when I wake, I feel even more tired than before. I take my time in the bath but forgo washing my hair. I just don’t have the energy––nothing a little dry shampoo can’t fix.
When I answer the buzzer, I remember Ethan is coming round and immediately feel guilty for forgetting. I open the door and he goes to kiss me on the lips in greeting, but I turn my head to the side and don’t miss the way he hesitates before his lips gently caress my cheek.
“Is everything all right?” he asks, frowning as I move aside for him to enter.
I nod. “Yeah, sorry. I called in sick. I don’t want you to catch it if I’m coming down with something,” I say, but it’s a half-lie.
“Sorry, I can go if you want to rest?” he says, waving the flowers he’s holding back in the direction of the door.
My heart squeezes when I notice he also has a bottle of my favourite Prosecco and a box of the after-dinner mints I love so much.
I shake my head. “No, I slept most of the afternoon.”
He passes me the bouquet of Embers, a beautiful mix of yellow and orange blooms. Also, my favourite. “Thank you, they’re lovely.”
“Just like you,” he says and follows me into the kitchen. He watches me as I trim the stems and put them in a vase. I feel the heat of his chest behind me, something that would usually cause a physical reaction throughout my body, but lately, I’ve just felt numb, empty.
His lips close over my bare shoulder as he pulls me to him, but I pull away.
“Lottie, what is it? Have I done something wrong?” he asks, and I immediately feel guilty.
I shake my head. “No, it’s not you, it’s me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
He pulls on my shoulder until we’re facing one another.
“What do you mean, it’s not you, it’s me?” He drops his hands to his sides. “Do you not want this?” he asks, pointing between us.
I chew on my lip, because I do, but if I am relapsing, how would this even work?
“Of course I do. I just…” I throw my hands up into the air out of frustration. “I’m sorry, I’m tired. I haven’t been sleeping, and I don’t feel like myself.”
“Lottie, it’s okay.” He cups my face between his palms, his stare so sincere. “But you know you can talk to me, right?”
I nod, because I do, but it’s hard when I can’t even get my thoughts straight.
“How about a film and a takeaway?” he asks.
Giving him what I hope is a genuine smile, I nod. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”
Ethan kisses my forehead and then takes a step back.
“Lottie, do you want to go to bed?”
I stretch out and my arm connects with a hard chest.
“Come on, you fell asleep,” he says, jostling me and swooping me up into his arms. I want to protest, but I’m too tired.
The next time I wake up, Ethan is spooning me. I’m so comfortable I don’t want to move, but my bladder woke me, and I’m desperate for a wee. Carefully, I slip out from under his arms and relieve myself before going back to bed. But it’s futile. I spend the remainder of the night getting up to wee and then tossing and turning, unable to get back to sleep. Maybe it’s just a urine infection?
At around five a.m., I finally just give up, force myself out of bed, and notice all the leftover food still on the table from last night. My plate is hardly touched, and I try to recall the last time I had an appetite. This is not good, and I have such a bad feeling about this.
Ethan comes into the living room, wearing his boxer briefs, and the sight of him like this would typically have my nerves tingling with excitement, but again, I feel nothing, and the revelation has my heart beating an unsteady rhythm. Rubbing his eyes, he yawns and walks over to give me a chaste kiss to the lips.
“You had a rough night,” he says, pulling me in for a cuddle.
I wrap my arms around his waist, resting my cheek against his chest.
“Sorry,” I say, feeling guilty at having disturbed his sleep too. “I think maybe I have a water infection; I have an appointment later today.”
He leans back and lifts my chin with his finger. “Don’t apologise for being ill,” he says, kissing the top of my head.
Old habits die hard, I guess. When I was a kid, I always apologised. It was bad enough being adopted and then having a chronic illness on top of it. I felt like a burden, and if this is what I think it is, I’ll become an even bigger burden than I was back then.
He holds me for ages, both of us just standing in the middle of the room, him in no rush to let me go. He makes me feel so loved. I let out a small gasp as my chest expands, because the truth is, I love him, and I think I have for a long time, but my body and my heart are at war with one another, and I hate it.
“I’m going to go take a quick shower,” I say and pull back, needing to put some distance between us. He leans down and kisses my forehead. I expect him to ask to join me like he usually would, but maybe it’s something in my expression, because instead, he nods.
“Go on. I’ll finish tidying this up.”
I spend an obscene amount of time under the hot spray, running all these different scenarios in my head. When I pee, I notice a trace of blood, and the panic I feel is definitely real.
“Do you want me to come with you to the surgery?” Ethan asks, disrupting me from my thoughts as I finish putting my hair in a ponytail.
I shake my head. “No, I’m good.” I don’t tell him Vi’s going with me. He’ll start asking questions––ones I can’t answer.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Ethan
Lottie has been withdrawn, quiet. I feel her pulling away from me emotionally and physically, and I’m powerless to stop it. I keep trying to talk to her, but she’s snapped a few times, and the last thing I want to do is argue, so I let it go.
But after last night and this morning, I know I can’t keep ignoring it and brushing it under the carpet. I just get this sinking weight in my gut. The way I feel about her might not be reciprocated, and it’s like Meg all over again, bu
t then I internally scold myself because what Lottie and I have is nothing like what I’ve ever experienced before, and I hate that I even allowed myself to think it––if only for a few seconds.
I needed to do something, so here I am at the gym, talking to Nathan and Henry, trying to act like my relationship isn’t falling apart at the seams.
“What’s going on?” Henry asks when Nathan disappears to take a piss.
I shrug. “I don’t know, man. Something’s going on with Lottie, and I haven’t got a clue what I should do about it.”
He bites his bottom lip. “Women are fucking complicated,” he says.
“Are we now?” Meg says, coming up behind me.
Taking a step back, he holds his hands up. “Well, not you, obviously,” he says.
“Correct answer.”
I turn and give her a quick hug and draw back, looking her over.
She swats my chest. “Stop it, I’m fine. Don’t you start,” she says.
“She’s pissed because I questioned if she should be back at work.”
Meg crosses her arms over her chest. “Well, you’re not a doctor, smart arse, and I was given the all clear.”
“I worry about you, that’s all,” he says, and her eyes soften.
Stepping up to him, she gives him a quick peck on the lips. “And I love you for it,” she says.
“Get a room already,” Nathan says as he slaps Henry on the back. “Come on, man, are we sparring or what?” he asks.
Meg smiles and pushes his chest gently. “Go on, do your thing,” she says.
Henry gives her a wink and then follows Nathan over to the mats.
That’s when I do a double take when I see Lottie carrying a coffee tray upstairs toward Olly’s office, and I frown.
“Did you not know she was coming here?” Meg asks.
I stuff my hands in my pockets. “Nope,” I reply, and she tilts her head towards the reception for me to follow.