‘It isn’t?’ He looks disappointed.
‘Not yet,’ I say and tug his T-shirt from his jeans. ‘You have to help me. Take this off.’
He does as he’s told, pulling it over his head, and then slumps back against the cushions, and I slide down his thighs to open up his jeans, taking my sweet time to work the zip over the swollen bulge. It’s not easy one-handed, but I’m enjoying his squirms. He shifts slightly as if impatient for me to get to the good part, which makes me slow down even more. When I pull down his boxers, his dick springs free, eager and ready.
I run an experimental finger around the smooth swollen top, using the glistening drop there as lubrication. I hear Tom hiss out a breath. His eyes are slitted as he watches me and I can see the control he’s exerting.
When I finally take him into my mouth he moves my hair aside so that he can see me. I give him a thorough workout, swirling my tongue around the head, sucking hard, my hand encircling his thickness, enjoying his little breathless groans. I’m relentless, never letting up, but it’s such a turn-on hearing him make those incoherent noises and having complete control over him.
‘Lydia, Lydia, Lydia.’
I carry on, slowing the pace. His moans are half words, quite inarticulate now.
‘Lydia,’ he gasps. ‘You’ve got to stop.’
I suck harder and I feel him go rigid.
‘Fuck, I’m going to come if you don’t stop,’ he cries out, a desperate edge to his voice.
I take my mouth away but replace it with my hand, giving him a long slow pump. ‘And what’s wrong with that?’ I ask, knowing I’m holding all the eggs, as it were.
He closes his eyes and heaves in a ragged breath, his hips still hitching. I can feel him barely holding back. There’s no way I’m letting him off the hook. I’m going to make him come, milk every drop from him.
‘Because I want to come inside you,’ he groans.
Warm wet heat floods between my legs at his words as he grips my arms and hauls me to my feet. He crushes me against his chest, kissing my mouth deeply as if he can’t get enough of me.
‘Please tell me you’ve got a condom in that Tardis rucksack of yours,’ he says before his mouth roams over my neck, nipping at the skin in the dip of my collar bone.
‘Yes,’ I gasp, as his hands close over my breasts.
‘Thank fuck for that.’
‘In the bedroom.’
‘Shit.’
Chapter Nineteen TOM
There’s a comedy moment where we both untangle ourselves from our half-removed clothes, leaving them where they fall, and then we’re kissing desperately, backing out of the room towards the stairs. We bump against the bottom step and I take her hand and lead her up to the bedroom.
The scent of her consumes me as I kiss her neck, pushing aside her hair. Soft gasps punctuate the air as she breathes my name and I’m trying to hang on to sanity. It feels as if my blood is boiling and my cock is so close to bursting. The feel of her hot mouth on me has driven me to the edge and I’ve never wanted anyone quite the way I want her now.
The rucksack is still propped against what I’m already thinking of as her side of the bed and, thankfully without any fuss, she retrieves a couple of condoms and hands me one.
There’s not much finesse as I rip into the packet as Lydia pushes down my boxers. My cock springs free and her hands are straight on me, her tight grip almost bringing me to my knees.
‘Lydia,’ I moan. It’s too much. Too much.
She gives me a wicked grin, loosens her grip, taking the condom out of my hand. My legs shake as she takes her time, teasing and touching, slowly, slowly rolling it down my length.
‘Jesus,’ I manage through gritted teeth. ‘Lydia, I think you’re trying to kill me.’ I palm her breast, focusing on the taut, tight nipple. She lets out a low groan and I pull her against me, relishing the feel of skin on skin. Her hips are jerking against mine.
I think I’m killing myself. I’m so desperate to feel her round me, the urge to race to orgasm has me in thrall.
I pull her down onto the bed and we lie side by side for a moment, our eyes locked on each other. Then, seeking her permission, I move slowly over her. She gives a tiny nod, which for some reason makes my heart leap in my chest. She’s so fucking giving and open. We’re both so revved but I need to check she’s ready. With Lydia I don’t take anything for granted. For all her efficiency and down-to-earth matter-of-factness, there’s a vulnerability about her. Her eyes are wide and bright, watching me.
I slide a hand up her thigh and find she’s so wet. But before I can touch her clit, she moves.
‘I want you, now.’
My heart jumps again and I move over her, taking my weight on my elbows. Beneath me she spreads her legs, I lower my hips and in one fluid, hard, fast movement I slide home. The sensation of sliding into the slick, hot cocoon of her body is as much relief as pleasure.
I hear her small, shrill, desperate cry. ‘Tom.’ I can feel my orgasm gathering force as each thrust turns the screw higher and higher. I’m beyond anything, the pleasure is rising and rising and I need to tell her. The words spill from me, an incoherent and desperate chant, ‘Lydia. Lydia. So good. So fucking good.’
I’m focused on the sweet rush of pleasure with every move compounded by Lydia’s inarticulate pleas, begging for more. I grasp her hips, lost to everything but sensation, and I bury myself to the hilt. I stop to savour the moment but then momentum takes over once more and my orgasm bursts, waves of pleasure shuddering through me and I feel her spasm, gripping my cock as it pulses inside her. This woman will be the death of me.
I collapse on top of her in complete surrender as her arms clutch me to her, holding on as if for dear life. The physical connection burns bright and fierce between us and euphoria fills me. Another thought barges in: I could hold on to Lydia for ever. I push it away. It’s just heat of the moment. Desire and lust. I don’t do for ever, it’s too much of a burden. There are too many conditions attached, too much expectation, and I have enough of that in my life already.
We lie there for a while, catching our breath, and despite the tiny reservations creeping in, I’m so spent and sated that I feel as if my body could ooze through the cracks between the floorboards. Lydia’s warm and soft beneath me, her hand stroking my back as if she’s trying to anchor herself back to reality. I know the feeling. Conscious that I’m so much heavier than her and she has all those bruises, I move to one side and pull the duvet up over us. Just for now, I can’t bear to let her go – I’ll give into it and live in the present – and I pull her into my side, hooking an arm over her waist and sliding one leg between hers. I feel uncharacteristically soft. There’s a tenderness inside me, a gratitude that she’s given me so much. I nuzzle her neck, as much to avoid meeting her gaze as needing to stay as close as I can. There’s a strange comfort in the bone-deep feeling of ease and for some reason, I realise I feel safe. Of all the emotions, gratitude and feeling secure are the two that rise to the top. I’m still puzzling over this as sleep starts to pull me into its embrace. ***
It’s dark when I wake up, a half-moon shining through the big window, slicing the room with shadows. I’m snug and toasty, Tom’s body, lovely and warm, is cuddled up next to mine, and I lie there enjoying the feeling of being with someone else for a change, of being part of a pair. I know it’s not real and it’s only temporary, but it feels good and why not relish it while I can? Things like this never last and I’m not going to kid myself they do but for once I give myself a break and enjoy the quiet companionship of another body next to mine.
I close my eyes and catalogue the signs of Tom’s presence, his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, his heartbeat thumping inexorably, strong and steady, and the feel of his warm skin and soft hair against my neck. Normal life is a world away and I savour this out-of-reality moment, doing as I’ve tried to do a dozen times before with my mindfulness app, by being present.
He stirs, his hand stroking my hip with idle movements as he lifts his head.
‘Hi,’ he says with a smile that I can just see in the dimly lit room.
