“I’m sorry, Jim. I’m just having a moment.” I cover my mouth with my free hand so she can’t hear my sobs or my gasps for air.
“I know, babe, and you’re quite entitled to; it’s just hard hearing you so upset when you’re so far away.” She’s quiet for a few moments, and I hear her sniff. “Look, George, Len’s saying that the music channels are going to be playing wall-to-wall Carnage music, interviews and documentaries all weekend. I don’t know if they have Sky over there, but I just wanted you to know that the coverage is going to be intense, and there’s been a lot of requests at the label for info as to when the memorial service will be.”
I let out a long sigh; I don’t want to talk about this anymore. “I don’t know, Jim. Next year sometime, June maybe, on Sean’s birthday.”
Sean and Beau’s funeral had been private. The streets had been absolutely rammed with his fans and just general members of the public showing their respect, but the church service and burial had been family and very close friends. I had agreed to a more-public memorial service at a later date, and I probably would’ve let it be arranged for the first anniversary if I had still been in England. Since that wasn’t the case, it would have to be next year now.
“There’s no pressure, George; whenever you’re ready. There’s just a lot of people who want to show their respects.”
My head’s pounding and my throat aches from the sobs I’m suppressing. Some days, only a good cry will do. I just want to end this conversation and have that good cry right now.
“I know they do, Jim, and it will happen; I just need to get through this next week, and then perhaps I can think about it. I love you, Jim; kiss them babies and my car-wanker brother for me. I need to go.” I don’t wait for her goodbye; I end the call before she can hear me cry. I just can’t hold it in any longer. I grab the pillow and hold on to it, squeeze it to me, wishing everything about my life was different.
I think I’m imagining things a little while later when I feel the bed dip beside me and someone strokes their hand over my hair. I open my eyes to see Roman standing up from the bed; he pulls off his jeans and T-shirt and lies back down next to me. He rolls me on my side and spoons into my back, pulling me into him tightly; he kisses the top of my head continuously while I cry.
“Let it out, George; let it all out, baby.” I have this sudden urge to talk, to tell him everything.
“I want it to stop, Rome. I’m so sick of the pain, all day, every day; it hurts so fucking much.” I turn around and face him. “Help me, Rome. Help me make it go away; help me to forget, just for a little while.” He kisses away the tears on my cheeks; my mouth finds his and I kiss him, hungrily; my tongue invades his mouth.
He pulls away. “Georgia, baby, please; I want you, but not like this. I feel like a complete bastard; I feel like I’m taking advantage of ya.”
I shake my head and hold his face between my hands. “No, no, Rome, you’re giving me what I need; you said you would help me.” My eyes widen as they plead with his. “You said you would help me. Well, I need your help, right here, right now; I want and I need your help.” He runs his fingertips over my cheek, towards my lips; I open my mouth slightly and flick my tongue between and over his fingers. They taste salty where he has touched my tears. His body is tense against mine as I slowly see the resolve in his eyes fade. Then his lips are on mine, gently at first, and then he rolls over and positions himself between my legs without breaking our kiss. He grinds his hips into mine; while one hand is under my arse cheek, tilting my hips up to meet his, the other hand is holding both of mine by my wrists above my head. I grind my hips back against his, and I can feel the tip of his cock pushing against my clit. I move so it slides lower, where I’m so hot and wet that surely he has to be able to feel me through my shorts. The spark of... something in his eyes and the way his mouth drops open slightly lets me know he can.
“Fuck, Georgia. That feels good. You feel good and I don’t want this to be quick. I want to worship you. I want to take you to another world and help you forget, but I need to fuck you so bad right now, baby.” He slides down my body and pulls my shorts off as he goes. Then he stands at the side of the bed and takes off his boxers; he pulls me up by my hand so I’m sitting and strips my vest off. He pushes my legs apart and kneels in front of me, between them. His hand moves behind my head, his fingers lacing into my hair to make small circular movements against my scalp. It instantly relaxes me; my jaw feels slack and I hear the bones crunch as I tilt my head back.
“You’re so tense, Georgia. It’s coming off you in waves.” I look back towards him, his ice-blue eyes meeting mine. “I want this, but it’s only going to happen if it’s what you want, too.”
I’m not actually sure if this, sex, is exactly what I need, but for now, it’s working; it’s taking the pain away, from my heart and from my head. It has eased, just a little bit, and that’s what I need; that’s what I want, to forget, just for a while.
“I want this,” I whisper so quietly, even I’m not sure I said it.
Roman leans in and kisses me gently on the mouth, dragging his fingers down my throat as he sits back on his heels and looks at me. His fingers continue their path as he brushes them over my chest, then over to my boobs, first the left, then across to the right, which he cups as he brings his eyes up to meet mine. He leans in, takes my nipple in his mouth and sucks on it, first gently, just using his lips and then I feel his teeth. He doesn’t bite down hard, but he pulls at my nipple, all the while still looking at me. Just as I’m about to tell him to stop, that it hurts, he releases it. His gaze leaves mine as he blows on the erect bud, then he laps at it with his tongue as his eyes once again meet mine and I moan. I thought it would be quiet but it comes out much louder than I planned, and I feel myself blush as a small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth.
“Turn around, and lay on your belly.” I do as he says, curious as to what he’s going to do. “D’ya have any oil, baby, massage oil, anything?” What the fuck is he planning on doing to me?
“Why, what do you need it for?” My voice must sound more panicked than I intend. I hear him chuckle, and he leans forward and bites my bum cheek gently.
“Chill, little girl, I just want to help you relax.” He runs his palm gently over my arse and whispers in my ear, “I promise not to touch this.” He squeezes my bum cheek hard. “Not till you’re ready for me to. Could be tonight, could be next week, but I’ll make sure you fucking love it when I do take it.” Fuck, I’m melting. I push my pubic bone down into the bed to try to get some friction. “Now, oil, where will I find it?”
“Bathroom,” is all I can manage to get out. He’s suddenly gone and I try to gather my thoughts. I’m shaking from head to toe and my head is pounding. I’m sure I’m doing the right thing. I just need to get this first time out of the way, and I couldn’t have picked anyone better than Roman. He wants nothing from me; there’s no illusion of love, and I like him. I couldn’t do this otherwise. The days of cold, calculated sex are long gone for me. I need a connection, but the fact that what I feel for him isn’t intense or overwhelming me is probably a good thing. I like him a lot, but I have no plans for a long-term relationship with him. He’s only in town till February, and I’m thinking of going back to England before Christmas, maybe as soon as next week. He’s hot to look at and he’s a great bloke; he’s kind, considerate, and from what I can tell without being obvious, he has a decent-sized dick. He’s hot. He seems to know what he wants with regard to sex, and he’s hot, did I mention that already? So bingo, I just need to get this done and not become a blubbering mess during the process.
The bathroom light goes out and he comes back over. What he does next instantly makes tears sting my eyes, because it’s so tender and intimate; he scoops all my hair up onto the top of my head and secures it with a scrunchy that he must have gotten from the bathroom. He kisses across my shoulders then straddles me, sitting across the tops of my thighs. I hear the cap flip and the squishing sound of
oil being squeezed from the bottle. The smell hits me instantly; baby oil. It reminds me of my nephews and nieces, of home, of Sean and of Beau, and I squeeze my eyes tightly closed.
“Relax, Georgia; relax those shoulders,” he whispers right in my ear, and I feel goose bumps travel up my spine. He gently massages the oil into my shoulders, rubbing it in with his fingertips and thumbs. Sometimes it’s almost painful, but mostly it feels amazing. I rest my head down on the mattress and let myself drift away. His big hands move over my ribs, down to my waist, gently coaxing the tension out of me, easing away the stress and making me ache with desire. Every so often as he moves, I can feel his cock or his balls brush against me and I wonder what it will feel like to have him inside me. He moves lower down the bed, pushing my legs apart. He massages each of my feet, then up the back of each of my calves, further up the backs of my legs. Every now and then, he rains down little kisses, licks, nips and bites over my body. His hands finally reach my bum again, and he drags a finger all the way through the middle; all the way down but stops short of pushing it inside me. His body covers mine, and I feel his cock resting at my arse crack.
“Turn over,” he whispers in my ear. My limbs feel heavy as he eases off me, giving me the space to turn onto my back.
There’s barely any light in the room, just what’s shining in from the street below, but it’s enough to make out his outline as he kneels between my legs. He lifts my leg by the ankle and kisses all the way to the top of my thigh, then he repeats the action with my other leg, but instead of kisses, he drags his teeth over my delicate flesh. This time, when he gets to the top, he doesn’t stop. He swipes his finger through me while resting my foot up on his shoulder. When he gets to my opening, he moves his finger in a circle, and we both know from the slick sounds it makes that I’m wet and wanting him. He bites down gently on the inside of my ankle, just above the bone and my hips buck forward. His eyes meet mine, and even if it were pitch dark in that room, I would still see them; they shine like diamonds.
“What do you want, Georgia, hmm? My fingers or my cock?” He moves his free hand and begins stroking himself as I watch. “Or do you want something else? Shall I find a toy? Shall I fuck you with something else so I can sit here and watch you come? What would you like?” Fuck. My mind is racing. I want all of those things. He pushes his finger inside me and the words just jump from my mouth.
“All of it, everything, your cock, your fingers, whatever you want. Fuck me with anything, fuck me anywhere, Roman, with anything; make me come and make me forget.” He pushes another finger inside and curls them, stroking inside me, right over my G-spot. He presses his thumb down onto my clit at the same time as he slides a finger, or maybe two, into my arse and I’m done. My orgasm rips through me, tears me in half. I call his name, my hips buck and my legs shake. It’s violent, almost painful, and it doesn’t want to stop. Just as the waves turn to ripples, he moves and slides his cock inside me, circling his hips; I feel full and stretched.
“Fuck, Georgia; fuck, that feels good.” I panic for a few seconds, wondering if I feel different, if I feel hollow inside to him, barren, like something is missing. But the way he’s moving, the noises he makes, the words he says, it must be feeling as good for him as it is for me. He slides, grinds and pushes against me, and I instantly feel another orgasm building. His hands slide under my arse cheeks; he drives deeper and it’s like an explosion as I come again. It’s different from the first, but just as good, and it peaks again as I feel him pulse and explode inside me, his head hovering above, his eyes still locked on mine.
“Baby,” he whispers with his final thrust, his arms giving way as his weight comes down on top of me, our bodies slick and sweaty but still joined. “Shit, Georgia, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” My head spins and my stomach drops; was it that bad? “Are you safe? You on the pill? I’m so sorry. I never do that, never.” Shit. We didn’t use a condom.
“I… it doesn’t matter,” I say, moving in a way that makes it obvious he needs to get off me. He slides out of me and I get up and walk to the bathroom, but he’s right behind me and spins me around by my shoulder.
“What’s wrong? You are on the pill?” I shake my head slowly, and for a few seconds, he looks panicked, then his jaw tenses and his eyes widen.
“I can’t have children,” I whisper quietly. I’ve never said it out loud to another person before. His head tilts to the side and his ice-blue eyes soften their gaze on me.
“What?” He frowns as he speaks. I look down at the floor, and as I try to compose an answer in my head, he leads me by the hand, pulling me back into bed. This time, we get under the duvet and he pulls me into his chest for a cuddle.
“D’ya wanna tell me about it?” I do. Don’t ask me why, but I do, so I take in a deep breath,
“When we…” I struggle for a few seconds.
“You don’t have to, Georgia; I just thought you might wanna talk.” I nod my head against his chest. I would like to talk, but I don’t want to cry. I really don’t want to cry.
“It was the accident. When we…” It’s a stupid thing; I never know how to phrase this statement, not even to myself, in my head. Did we, Sean and I, lose Beau? Or, did I, just me, lose Sean and Beau? Because technically, Sean was still alive when Beau was pulled dead from my womb. “My womb, my uterus, was ruptured during the accident. That’s how my baby died, and then…” My head feels dizzy just talking about this, but I want to explain. I want to say it aloud, to another person. “I had to have an emergency hysterectomy as they couldn’t stop the bleeding.” I think he’s stopped breathing while I’ve been talking; he’s holding me tightly and is absolutely still.
“Fuck, Georgia, I had no idea. That’s just so fucked.” He kisses the top of my head. “I’m so sorry. I really had no idea.”
We lay wrapped around each other in complete silence for a while, until eventually, we must both fall asleep.
Chapter Eight
I blink a few times before finally forcing my eyes open. The sun is shining behind the blinds at the window and I can smell coffee. I stretch and realise I’m a little bit sore between my legs, and I can’t help but smile. I can hear Roman moving about in my kitchen and my smile gets bigger. It’s like he’s been sent just to help me, and he’s exactly what I need right now; he’s uncomplicated—what you see is exactly what you get with Rome—and he’s a blinding fuck. I woke up in the night to feel him inside me. He was so gentle, with soft little kisses from his lips, gentle strokes from his fingertips, and neither of us said a word until we came. I sighed his name; he called out mine. I don’t remember him pulling out of my body, because we were still joined when I fell back to sleep.
I reach across to my phone and check the time; it’s eleven am. I wonder if Jim will still be awake, and I shoot off a text anyway.
Deed is dun!!!
XXX
I smile to myself, imagining her reaction. My phone rings just as Roman walks through the door carrying a cup of coffee in each hand. He’s wearing just his boxers, and I can’t take my eyes from his body for a few seconds.
“You gonna get that, George, or just let it ring?”
“Huh?” is all I manage.
“Your phone, it’s ringing.” He gestures towards the phone in my hand with his chin; I look down just as it stops ringing. I take my coffee from him, and he climbs into bed beside me just as my phone starts up again. I can see it’s Jimmie but I’m not sure what to do with Roman sitting right next to me. Before I do anything, Roman takes the phone from me.
“G’Day, Georgia’s phone, Roman Peterson speaking, can I help you?” He puts the phone on loudspeaker so I can listen, and I hear Jimmie’s shriek from where Roman has the phone held out in front of him. He pulls a face and moves it further away quickly. I snatch the phone from him.
“Jim?” I can hear what sounds like Jimmie and Ashley both cackling down the line.
“Oh, my God, George, that accent!”
“Go you, Geo
rge! Did ya blow on his didgeridoo?” I turn to Roman and shake my head; the girls are so loud, but he’s just grinning, his eyes sparkling as he does.
“Are we gonna have a sensible conversation, or shall we just speak tomorrow?” I ask. My heart aches a little at the thought of them together on a Friday night. I wonder if the boys are there, too; if they’ve had a cosy night in, all together, a couples night, with all the kids running around like crazy and me, not a part of it. I have no one to be a couple with; I have no crazy kids to run around, no husband—not a living, breathing one anyway. The good mood I woke with vanishes in an instant. I hate feeling jealous and bitter, but sometimes, it just sneaks up and takes over my head and my heart. I end the call, turn my phone to silent, put it down on the chest of drawers and drink my coffee.
I can feel Roman’s eyes on me but I don’t look at him; I can’t right now. I’m too busy hating myself for being jealous of my two best friends.
“You okay?’ he asks from beside me, and I nod as I finally turn towards him.
“They’re drunk. It’s pointless trying to talk to them when they’re like that.”
He nods his head slowly. “And you’re jealous and wish you were there, drunk, with them.” It’s not a question; it’s a statement and I nod as big, fat tears plop onto my cheeks.
“They’re my best friends; I don’t want to be jealous of them. I love them, but they can laugh and get fucked up. I want that. I want to be able to do that, but I’m not ready to go back and do it with them, and if I go back…” I wipe my nose on the back of my hand and look at him, while trying to catch my breath. “If I go back, it’s all fucking real again; it’ll all be in my face and I just… I’m not ready yet. I need more time away from it.” I don’t know if he understands a word I’m saying, as I’m sobbing and choking and coughing as I speak. I put my coffee cup down and can see my phone is lighting up again and again as Jimmie tries to call me back.
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