by Lucy Eden
She’d never really found comfort in silence before. Bustling sounds and chatter kept her busy, kept her thoughts distracted, kept her from overthinking and reliving again and again, but this was comfortable. That comfortable silence that she’d read about in books. She put the mug carefully on the coffee table, leaned back, snuggling in, and sighed as his hand tentatively touched her hair. Gentle strokes that calmed her and made her want to lose herself in his quiet, in his gentle touch.
She didn’t realise that she’d fallen asleep until she awoke suddenly, jerking upwards, disorientated and confused.
“What–? Where–?” and then as realisation hit, apologies tumbling over each other in a waterfall of sorries, the words barely able to keep up with her racing thoughts, a jumble of panicky self-recrimination. You idiot. He must think that you’re pathetic, you’re–
“It’s okay.” His hand beneath her chin, lifting it ’til she met blue depths. “It’s fine.” They weren’t just words; he really didn’t mind.
Then he grinned suddenly, adding teasingly, “You make cute little snuffly snores when you sleep.”
She reddened, hiding her face in his shoulder in embarrassment, even whilst she was grateful for his lightening of the mood. “Oh hush up.” He hugged her close and she found the courage to whisper, “Is it still raining?”
It was later than she’d hoped, but it was also still apparently storming, and the look on her face must have caused him some consternation because he said abruptly, “You can stay here tonight, if you like. I’m sure the storm will be gone by morning.”
She looked at him sideways, and he shook his head, “You know I didn’t mean it like that, but I’d rather you stayed than left if it’s going to upset you.”
A slow nod. “That would be…good. I’m sorry about all this, it’s just…”
“You don’t have to explain, no apologies. It’s fine, I promise. Now, I’m thinking leftover pasta and Netflix. There’s an animated space series that I think you’re going to love.”
It was, she realised as he went to set everything up, his way of caring. Little tactile displays of affection that made him move with purpose. He wanted her to lean on him, to trust him.
“I was in an accident.”
The bustle stopped and he came and sat down next to her, even as she couldn’t look at him, couldn’t do anything other than fiddle with the hem of the hoodie and blurt out words that made her want to curl up and hide. “There was a storm. An accident. And we’re all fine now. No longer term. Injuries but still. I. I. I don’t like driving in storms. Not that it was me who was driving in the first place and I guess that means that I should be fine with driving in storms now and I can’t and I just couldn’t sit in the car and wait it out because when it hits the windshield like that over and over and over I just–”
His arms again. Round her again. Comforting her again. “Shh. It’s okay, petal. You don’t have to talk about it; you’re here with me, and I’ll keep you safe.”
For some reason, after that, she felt less awkward, a little more like herself again. Comfortable enough to snort with laughter when a sentient spaceship repeatedly denied a dorky character a chocolate chip cookie, and comfortable enough to flick pasta sauce at him when he tickled her to make her laugh some more. And she’d never been quite so grateful for streaming services’ enabling of binge-watching; they worked their way through more than a few episodes, curled up on the sofa together, until her head kept dropping and she was fighting to keep her eyes open.
“Time for bed?”
She nodded, all of a sudden, feeling a little reticent, and he smiled gently at her concern, his hands cupping her face for a kiss. “I’ll need to grab spare bedding so that I can bunk down on the sofa here, but after that, my bedroom’s all yours. And I have a huge duvet that you can cocoon yourself in if you need to.”
There was a pang of sadness as she realised that actually, she really wouldn’t mind him curled up round her, under said duvet, but he was right. This was probably for the best.
So instead she followed him down the corridor to where a large king-sized bed waited for her. One so large that she thought she could get lost in its depths. She perched on the edge of the bed as he got the linen he needed for his own repose, as well as a spare towel for her, pointing out where she could charge her phone and where the switch for the lamp on the bedside table was. Some laughter. A long look that had her flushing, and then a gentle kiss that was as intense as it was tender. As he went to move away, she found her body following him, led by her lips back to his for another.
“Good night, petal.” He whispered the words and she whispered “Good night” back, and sat there, teetering on the edge of calling him back as he left the room and closed the door quietly behind him.
Settling beneath the covers, the bed seemed unnaturally large. Too large to settle in the middle, with each side leagues away. Instead she set up on the starboard, glasses folded on the bedside table and light on for some reading before she slept. She might have been sleepy earlier, but now? Now she was far too awake to sleep. Every inch of her longed for his arms, for his touch, for his kisses, and the only way she was going to be able to distract herself, was to read a little before bed. Lose herself in a different world until she was too tired to focus on the words on her phone screen.
It might have helped if she hadn’t been reading a paranormal romance, all turbulent shifters and hot sex, but even the world building wasn’t enough to divert her attention from where she could still feel his lips on hers, the shadow of his touch on her breasts. She toyed with the idea of touching herself, of casting her ebook to one side and letting that tight control unfurl from her as she lost herself in thoughts of him. But she was in his bed, and that seemed a little unfair.
She could go to him.
She could ask him to come and sleep with her, even if actual sleep was all that they did.
Her face flushed at the idea of it. The idea of going and asking for what she wanted. What she needed. It seemed unlikely, she realised, that he’d find that abrasive. He’d liked it earlier when she’d asked him oh so politely if he could touch her. And even if he said no, she didn’t think that it would be awkward.
Momentarily emboldened, she slipped out of bed and hurried to the door before she could lose her nerve and change her mind. But as she approached the door to the living room, she paused, suddenly shy.
One step. Two. And then she peeped round the doorframe.
He was sat on the sofa, blankets tossed casually on the coffee table, and he was watching a sitcom on the television.
“Ummm…?”
His head turned and she found herself dropping her head, and playing with the sleeves of the hoodie again. “You okay, petal?”
“I…I was wondering if you wanted to… I mean, it’s a big bed and I…”
He stood and walked over to her, one finger under her chin, raising it ‘til she could meet his eyes. “What is it that you need?”
“You.” She blurted out the word and would have turned her head away sharply to hide if his eyes hadn’t sparkled. Blue eyes, shot with a splash of gold, that were kind and happy and hungry. Oh, she realised, he wants me.
She’d technically known that already, especially if their make-out session earlier was anything to go by, but to realise it now, when her body was humming with need and he was close, oh so very close to her, well. It was certainly something.
He moved his finger so that his hand cupped her cheek, and then the nape of her neck. “Tell me again. What do you need? Who do you need?”
“You. Please.” Her words were more resolute, more unwavering than she’d ever known them, and she felt a jolt of pleasure when his eyes darkened at that second word. At her pleading.
And then his mouth was on hers, hot and demanding, walking her backwards until she could feel the wall flush behind her, and at some point their hands brushed against each other, tugging fervently at the hoodie that slid over her head until she stood,
clad in nothing but her underwear, his eyes caressing every inch of her.
“I want you too, petal. I want you writhing beneath my hands, my mouth, and I want you to come apart on my cock. Would you like that?”
She squeaked in reply, desire momentarily stealing her voice, and nodded eagerly, desperate to have him put his words into action.
He laughed then, delighted, this deep warm sound that felt like a stroke against her clit and she leaned towards him for another kiss. “Please?” In this moment, she thought that she’d do anything to feel him for real against the throbbing of her clit, his fingers replacing the caress of his voice, as she let go for him. Let it all go.
Then he was taking her hand and pulling her back into his bedroom, to that bed. Drawing her along, drawing her towards him, until he gestured to the bed, adding with warmth in his voice, “Sit down, I can’t have you falling over.”
Despite that, she almost fell over in her hurry to sit down anyway, her peal of laughter at the irony ringing out, echoed by him. And that was good. Laughter was sexy, even if tripping over her own feet wasn’t.
“I’m sitting down.”
“I want to make you feel so so good, but you need to trust me. Do you trust me?” As he spoke, he started to unbutton his shirt. She watched his hands’ deft, swift movements, undoing button by button – as if there were any other way to unbutton a shirt.
She nodded, wide-eyed, as her lips parted and she leaned upwards for a kiss.
“Wait a moment.”
She stopped. Waited for him.
“How will you tell me if it’s too much?”
“Too much?” This was all too much already, too much waiting, too much tension, too much not enough-ness.
“Oh petal, I intend to make you come until you lose your mind, til you’re begging me for a breather. So how will you tell me if it’s too much? If you need a break, or you need me to stop? Because otherwise I’ll just keep going and going.”
She took a jagged breath, suddenly desperate for air. The thought of coming for him again and again had her pussy clenching and her clit throbbing. He chuckled at the look on her face. “Oh, you like the sound of that?” His belt was tugged through belt loops, then dropped to the floor, before his hands paused at the top button of his jeans. “Well then? How will you tell me?”
Her right hand tapped three times on the bed. Tapping out. Because she had a feeling that if he was going to make her come as much as he said he would, she might need a sign that didn’t involve speaking.
“Oh I like that, petal, tapping out like the fiercely strong fighter that you are. Okay then. That’s your sign. Now, move back for me.”
His jeans were gone and she had a glimpse of a hard length straining against his boxers before she scrambled up the bed. He followed her and then, with confident hands that fumbled a little with the complexity of the clasp at her back, he undid her bra, sliding it down her arms and cursing softly as the fullness of her breasts came into view.
“They’re not,” she found herself stammering, “gravity defying,” but he put aside her self-consciousness with a single kiss, reaching behind her to adjust the pillows, that small movement implying affection and tenderness far beyond the lust in his eyes.
“I don’t need gravity defying. I need you,” and then slowly, gently, he pushed her back until she was lying before him. Laid out for him, lace hiding soft curls, and breasts aching for his mouth. With tantalising slowness, he lowered his lips to one nipple and sucked, pinching the other with his fingers and she moaned out loud without meaning to. He looked up and met her eyes, lifting his head briefly so that each word he spoke teased the wet puckered peak he’d just had in his mouth. “I love it when you moan. I want to know each and every time I make you feel good, so you be as loud as you want for me.”
She fought the urge to look away, to hide her shyness from him, but instead met his eyes and nodded slowly. And he kept her gaze as he lowered his mouth back down and made her moan again. Each lick and suck and gentle bite had a direct line to her clit, she realised. That he had her squirming beneath him just like he said he would, and when one hand danced along the lace gusset of her underwear, she realised she was wet for him too.
Well. Wet might be slightly underselling it. She was sodden, the material drenched through, and as he stroked her gently through it she closed her eyes and arched up against his fingers.
“Aren’t we greedy?”
Her eyes flew open and she looked at him in such alarm that his hand moved swiftly to cup her cheek. “No no, petal, that’s not a bad thing. I love how needy you are for me, how desperate.”
“Oh okay, that’s good.” Her hammering heartbeat settled back into its echo of the throb between her legs. “I don’t want you to think that I’m too much.”
He kissed her slowly and deeply. “You are perfect. My good girl. And if I make you greedy for me, then I’m very lucky, aren’t I?”
“Yes, yes you are.” Her mischievous laugh was cut short by a gasp that he elicited with a stroke. Just. There. “Oh, please. Please.”
Hands urged her hips up and soft fabric dragged down her legs and tossed aside. “Please? Please what?” Each word accompanied by a kiss on her inner thighs, getting closer and closer, and she moaned in frustration.
“Please, please kiss me.”
“Here?” He partnered the single word with a kiss just above where she felt her need thrum through her clit.
“Noooooooo.”
His chuckle had his breath dancing across her pussy and she arched up, trying desperately to reach his mouth. “Come on now, use your words. Where would you like me to kiss you?”
“Please please please kiss my pussy.”
“Good girl,” and with that his tongue licked all the way up her pussy, ending with a swirl around the sensitive nub at the top.
The noise she made then was somewhere between a moan, a gasp and a sigh of relief, and it seemed to galvanise him further. Each lick against her clit had her breathing quicker and quicker, the intensity of his touch making her spiral higher and higher until she found herself teetering at the very edge of something, reaching out for a release before he pulled back, dropping a single kiss on her glistening pussy.
“Wha…what?”
“Not quite yet, sweetheart.”
“But…” She was speechless, so utterly desperate to come and yet…
His hands skated across her skin, tracing patterns across her thighs, her stomach, her breasts, until they lay against her cheeks with his face close to hers. “If it’s too much for you, that’s okay, I promise I won’t be disappointed. All you have to do is give me the sign.”
She met his gaze, her body thrumming with need and the reassurance she saw there strengthened her resolve. “I think…I think I can take some more.”
This time, his lips stayed against hers, teasing and demanding, as fingers danced against her clit, in a rhythmic pattern that made her feel like she were a bass guitar he was playing. An instrument beneath his fingers, ready to sing.
He stroked her once more to a peak, and once more pulled her back from it.
It was almost too much, to be so mindlessly brought to the point of release and then left there, left dripping and aching and yearning for that moment when he’d take her, waterfalling down into bliss. And yet, she felt so free. No catastrophising thoughts crowding her brain, no panic pushing out peace, but this almost serene neediness. Wanting. She was at her most vulnerable, completely open to him, and yet she felt the strongest she’d ever been. She was strength and power and desire all in one, and as he slipped his fingers inside her, the come-hither movement stroking against her g-spot, she thought she’d shatter.
“Are you ready for me, petal?”
“Please.”
She followed his glance to the bedside table and nodded before he opened a drawer and grabbed a condom. And then his eyes were on hers as he entered her oh so very slowly.
She felt so full, so tight, so damn ready an
d as he began to thrust she found herself pleading again and again and again. The sweetness in his smile almost took her breath away and then his hand slipping between them to rub at her clit did exactly just that, stealing her breath and her words and pushing her higher and higher until “Come for me sweetheart.”
And she did.
She rode each wave that swept over her, gasping and writhing and coming beneath him, around his cock, just as he said she would, and as the peak seemed like it was coming to an end, he pushed her into another crescendo.
“I think you’ve got some more for me.”
He had her, a delicate, trembling thing, breaking in his arms over and over. Each wave taking her further and further away from anything other than this. This moment. She’d never before been so in the present, been so utterly in the here and now, with nothing else cutting in.
From somewhere far away, she heard him swear and then he was leaning in so close that she could have counted his eyelashes if she’d been so inclined. Not that she was in any fit state to do anything other than moan and plead in a never-ending cycle that had him kissing her and then coming with a murmur of affection that made her melt.
It took her some time to come down from the heady heights to which he’d taken her, and when she did, she found she was wrapped up in his arms, her trembling hands clinging to him as he kissed her cheek and stroked her hair.
“Oh. That was…” she trailed off uncertainly.
“It really was.”
“Thank you.”
He pulled her in tighter. “You are the sweetest thing; thank you indeed. Thank you.”
“No.” That wasn’t it. The sex had been amazing, and she was fairly certain that she was still experiencing aftershocks, but she wasn’t thanking him for that. “Thank you for looking after me, during whatever fireworks display that just was, to holding me after. And earlier. During the rain.”