Meet Me at the Lighthouse

by Mary Jayne Baker

  “You do it.”

  “Yes sir.” I helped him out of his sodden blazer and shirt.

  Bloody hell, when had he got that fit? Without his top he looked like a male model or something, the lanky lad from school all buffed up. And his skin was still glistening with rain. Made him look kind of delicious, like a cold drink on a hot day. Kind of… lickable.

  Oh God… maybe it was the year’s worth of celibacy or maybe it was the gorgeous, topless, teasing, dripping, panting boy gripped between my thighs, but I couldn’t wait any more. I wanted him so much it was pain; needed him, that second.

  Pushing him onto his back, I started peppering frenzied kisses over his chest. I slid my hands down to caress the tempting furrows and contours of his body, over the swell in the front of his jeans, and let out a low moan of longing.

  “Hey,” he gasped, stroking my hair as I scattered kisses over the well-defined muscles of his stomach. “Slow down, Bobbie. We’ve waited a long time for this. Let’s savour it.”

  “Ah… yes…” I tried to stall the feverish beating in my chest. “Sorry. I just want to… feel you, that’s all.”

  “Then feel me.” Suddenly he rolled me over so he was on top and slid down to unbutton my jeans. He yanked them off over my hips then sent my knickers to join them, and I was completely naked, my tummy skin to skin with his chest.

  I made a needy little noise in my throat when he ran the backs of his fingernails lightly along my inner thigh, tracing teasing patterns against the soft flesh.

  “Ross…” I whispered.

  He flashed me a wicked grin. Then, without warning, he slid down to plunge his face between my legs.

  I gasped and arched my hips as I felt him taste me with that hot, talented mouth, lips soft against me, so soft, so… God, was he good at everything? His soaked curls dripping against my tummy, his fingers kneading my skin… and his face, his gorgeous face, nestling into the wet, trembling fever at the top of my thighs, rough stubble firing every nerve, his relentless, eager tongue driving into me.

  Ross bloody Mason, the first boy I ever kissed, making my body scream for him.

  I cried out as the throb of orgasm took me, and I heard him laugh in triumph while that searing heat ripped up my body, shivering, painful, irresistible, until the moment was over and I sank against the blanket I’d writhed into bunches with a moan of satisfaction.

  Ross slid back up and leaned on his elbows, his flushed face gazing down into mine.

  “You look beautiful after that, you know,” he panted, shifting his weight so he could draw a finger along my heated cheek. “Makes you glow.”

  I let out a long sigh. “That was amazing. Thank you.”

  “My genuine pleasure.” He claimed my lips, his delicious musk-laced tongue seeking mine.

  When he drew away he rolled on to his back and guided me so I was astride him.

  “You fancy getting the rest of my kit off then?”

  “Since you ask.” I helped him out of his jeans, but left his underwear on.

  “Not going to take my boxers off?”

  “Not yet.”

  I moved down to kneel between his legs and nuzzled softly against the firm sinews of his inner thigh, planting kisses hot and unhurried. I ran the tip of my tongue just under the leg of his boxers, then slid my hand up his hip, under the black cotton, to very gently trace the bone of his pelvis with my fingertips. Shifting up his body, I pulled the elastic down slightly to plant a row of light kisses under the waistband, where textured dimples guided me across his stomach like a map.

  He was panting now, gasping with each meeting of my mouth and his flesh, his hips rising and falling gently beneath me.

  Finally I guided his boxer shorts off, and swallowed a gasp of my own as his erection sprang free.

  God, he was beautiful naked. I felt another throb of lust, but fought it back. He’d said he wanted to take things slow. I could take things slow.

  I leaned forward again, but I didn’t kiss him. I just blew softly, hot breaths against skin still clammy with sweat and rainwater. My body whispered over his, teasing him with the gentlest brushes of my breasts, and I could feel the tip of his erection grazing my tummy. He groaned, a needy, animal sound, and bucked towards me, but I moved back.

  “Bobbie, please.” His voice was pleading. “Don’t tease. I have to make love to you, I’m going insane here.”

  “Well… go on then. Since you asked nicely.”

  I slid up his body to bring my face level with his. His eyelashes were flickering rapidly, lips parted with quick, rasping pants. It was an irresistible sight. My mouth claimed his and he thrust his hands into my hair, pushing down greedily.

  I broke away with a stab of worry.

  “Did you bring something?”

  “Yes. Wallet, back pocket.”

  “Thank God.” I reached for his discarded jeans and located the foil packet tucked inside his wallet.

  Ross pushed himself up into a sitting position. With trembling fingers I rolled on the condom, feeling him shudder when I touched him.

  “Wait,” he said before I could guide him inside me. He drew one shaking finger along my cheek, brushing a strand of wet hair behind my ear. “I need to say this first. You’re very special to me, Bobbie. You hear me?”

  “Yes, Ross. I feel the same.”

  “Do I get to keep you after tonight?”

  “If you want me.”

  “Oh God…” His eyes blinked closed for a moment, then in one swift movement he pulled me over him and thrust hard into me. “Then I’d better make this good, hadn’t I?”

  “Ah! Had you?” I gasped, letting my body rise and fall against his.

  “You’ll find I take my boyfriending duties very seriously.” I heard him suck in a breath as I ran my tongue around his earlobe. “Bloody hell, lass, you can keep doing that as long as you like.”

  I let out a short, breathless laugh. “Never met anyone like you, Ross. You’re… surprising.”

  He laughed too – God, there was something about the way he did that when he was aroused, half laugh, half pant, his mouth wet and open, that was so unbelievably hot. The buck of his hips under me was getting faster, sending delicious, torturous pulses of pre-climax thumping through me. I drove my fingers into his thick hair and grabbed a fistful, feeling my senses start to slide out of my grip in the sweet unforgiving agony of his body pressing into mine.

  “Ah… sorry, I’m… hurting you,” I panted when I heard him take his breath in sharply. I tried to relax the white knuckles weaved into his hair, but I didn’t seem able to let go.

  “No, you’re not, it’s… oh God, just keep moving like that… Jesus Christ, Bobbie!”

  I threw my head back, screaming out his name as he drove himself into me one last time and climax took us both together; those excruciating vibrations, greedy for every sense, until there was nothing but me, and him, and us – a single being in the long moment it took for our bodies to gorge themselves on each other and fall away.

  ***

  “When you said we should christen the place, I thought you meant with the wine,” I panted as we lay together on the blanket, sweat-gilded and cuddling breathlessly. “That was incredible, Ross.”

  “Pretty earth-moving yourself.” He reached out to grab my hand, in lieu of the kiss we were still too exhausted to manage. “You know, I bet Freud’d have a few theories about people who bonk in lighthouses.”

  “I’m just glad to discover the fact you’re from a long line of lighthouse keepers doesn’t mean you need to overcompensate for anything.” I leaned up on my elbow. “Did a good job testing the acoustics, didn’t we?”

  He grinned. “Well you certainly did. Surprised the place is still standing.”

  I pinched him on the arm. “And whose fault is that, shameless? Weren’t exactly keeping the noise down yourself.”

  “That’s the good thing about lighthouses, you never need to worry about waking the neighbours,” he said, stretching out c
omfortably on the blanket. “Mind you, there’re probably a couple of seagulls who’ll need counselling.”

  “Yeah. Hugging their knees and shaking.” I giggled at the image.

  “Ok, enough seagull pillow talk. Now we’ve got our breath back how about a kiss, bonny lass?”

  He pulled me to him and we locked lips, our hot breaths mingling.

  “You know, after all that time at school worrying about how to ask you out I’ve done this totally wrong, haven’t I?” he said when we came up for air.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Your methods were pretty effective.”

  He knit his brow. “Ok, I’m going in. Brace yourself to be asked out good and proper. I’ve waited 12 years to do this and I’m bloody well doing it right.”

  “All right, how would you like me?”

  “Um…” He rolled on top of me. “Here’s good. Right, off we go. You ready for this?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  “Good.” He cleared his throat. “Miss Hannigan, as your most ardent gentleman admirer, would you kindly permit me the honour of squiring you about the town?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I really fancy you, will you go out with me?”

  “Daft sod,” I said with a giggle. “Go on then. Always enjoy a good squiring.”

  “Yeah, I’d heard that about you.” He nuzzled into the arch of my shoulder.

  “So you’re really my girlfriend now?” he mumbled against the skin he was kissing.

  “Yep.”

  “Brilliant. In that case, fancy sealing the deal by taking another crack at me?”

  I lifted my eyebrows. “What, already?”

  “Well, it’s been a while.” He jerked his head towards his wallet. “Got another if you fancy it.”

  “You certainly came prepared.” I narrowed a suspicious eye at him. “Oi. Did you think you’d get lucky tonight because you wrote me a song?”

  “Just thought I’d better be ready for the day you finally succumbed to my boyish yet manly charm.”

  “Maybe I’m not that easy,” I said, tossing my head.

  “Resist me then.” He moved his lips to my earlobe and nibbled gently.

  “Could if I wanted.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  “Really though?”

  I sighed. “No, not really.”

  “Good lass. Let’s scare a few more seagulls.”

  Chapter 17

  Back at the cottage, I dashed upstairs to change out of my damp, crumpled clothes. Once I’d got my pyjamas on and pushed my steaming hair through a bobble, I went down to the living room. Jess was snuggled against Gareth, watching TV with Monty asleep at their feet.

  “Hiya, Bobs,” Gareth said with a bright smile. “Missed you for film night.”

  “Liar,” I said, returning his smile. “Bet the pair of you have had a great night without me, snogging your faces off.”

  “Heh, busted. So how was the gig?”

  “Not bad,” I said, throwing myself down on the sofa opposite them with a contented sigh.

  “Thought you’d have been back ages ago,” Jess said.

  “Got chatting. Lighthouse stuff.” The corner of my mouth kept twitching into a treacherous smile. I willed it back into submission.

  Jess stared. “Not pissed, are you? Your face looks weird.”

  “No, I didn’t have much.” Just the two glasses of wine at the gig and a post-coital prosecco to celebrate the third orgasm… “In a good mood, that’s all.”

  She examined me suspiciously for a moment, then her eyes went wide.

  “Oh. My. God.”

  “What?” I said, trying to sound casual.

  “Oh my God oh my God oh my God!”

  “Bloody hell, sis, have you found Jesus or something?”

  She turned to her boyfriend. “Gareth, bugger off a sec, can you? Need to talk to our Bobbie. Twin stuff.”

  He frowned. “Er, right. What, like, cute little matching outfits, that sort of thing?”

  “Something like that. Go stick the kettle on.”

  “Sexy cute little matching outfits?”

  “Yeah, if you like. Crotchless PVC catsuits. Look, ten minutes.”

  Once Gareth had gone, I shook my head at her. “Can’t believe you played the sexy twin card. How’s the lad supposed to brew up with that image in his head?”

  She shrugged. “He’ll cope.”

  “Hey, you should meet Ross’s mate Travis. He’s got some tasteful erotica in production that’d benefit from your costume advice.”

  “Never you mind tasteful erotica. You had sex tonight, didn’t you?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Ugh. How do you and Mum always know stuff?”

  “Ha, I knew it! Tell. Where’ve you been, his place?”

  “No. Not his place.”

  “You didn’t do it in the Mini?” Her eyes widened as she caught the look on my face. “Oh my God. You never.”

  My mouth spread into a smirk. “Yeah. Twice.”

  “Dirty mare!” She threw a cushion at me. “Not sure I fancy going to gigs in a lighthouse people’ve been having it off in. Any good?”

  I sighed. “Bloody incredible. He sang me a song as well.”

  She frowned. “He sings while he’s shagging? I mean, I’ve had my share of bizarre bedroom stuff, that lad who had to turn the photo of his parents to face the wall first and the one with the giant creepy teddy, but –”

  “Not during sex, foolish child. Before, at the gig. He wrote it for me.”

  “Ha, is that still working? He used to do that at school to get girls into bed. Connie Hainsworth told me he wrote her one in Year 13.”

  “Yeah, he said. This was different though.” I smiled when I remembered his lyrics, soft and haunting. “It was all about the lighthouse. Something about ivy.”

  “Ivy?”

  “Ivy only grows for the wicked, this thing Annie Mason used to say. There was a whole metaphor. Think I might be the ivy, and then… well, the lighthouse. That’s symbolic too, isn’t it?”

  “Well it’s got a pretty filthy silhouette if you go up at sunset.”

  I tutted. “Not what I mean, smut-for-brains. I mean it’s… the song, it was sort of saying the lighthouse is like me and him. As kids, and who we are now – those feelings. They were there, kind of dormant and half-forgotten, all the time. They just needed some attention, like our lighthouse.”

  “Or your novel.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Are you guys a proper couple now then?”

  “Yeah.” I hugged myself. “Yeah, we are.”

  Jess nodded approvingly. “Good.”

  “You think I was right then, letting him talk me into it?”

  “Not for me to say really. Do you think you were?”

  I hesitated. “I guess. He’s nearly at the end of his separation period, seemed daft waiting just for form’s sake. And he was right: there’s no one to get hurt this time.”

  “Well, good for you, sis. Happy for you.”

  “Thanks. We decided we want to keep it quiet for a bit though, just until his divorce petition’s filed.” I glared at her. “So don’t get pissed and tell everyone, gobby.”

  Jess assumed a look of innocence. “Would I?”

  “Er, yes and yes and yes some more.”

  “Heh, is that what you were saying earlier?”

  “Shut it, you.” I sighed. “I’m serious, Jessie. It might worry people. The community’s invested a lot in the lighthouse thing and they’ve put their confidence in us to pull it off. Maybe save going public until it’s all settled.”

  “Right. So you don’t want Mum finding out then.”

  “See right through me, don’t you?” I said with a grin. “No, can’t face the third degree straight off. You taken Gareth to meet the old lady yet?”

  “I’m working up to it.”

  “Go on, you can’t put it off forever. You know she’ll love him.”

  “It’s not
her I’m worried about. A Mum interrogation isn’t something you just inflict on boyfriends without careful psyching up. He could be running for the hills.”

  “Nah, he loves you.”

  She actually blushed – Jess never blushed. And she was picking at a loose thread on the sofa in a distracted sort of way…

  “Oh my God!” I burst out. “He only bloody does! Did he say it tonight?”

  She grinned. “He did, yeah.”

  “And did you say it back?”

  She coloured a deeper shade of red. “Yes. Meant it too.”

  “Aww, you soppy cow. Give us a hug then.”

  “If I must.” She came over to my sofa, chucked herself down and threw her arms around my neck.

  “Pleased for you,” I said, patting the back of her hair. “He’s a great bloke. You know, for a rugby player.”

  She laughed and nodded to Monty, asleep on the carpet. “He must be, even the dog likes him.”

  “Oi. Can I come back in or what?” Gareth shouted from the kitchen.

  “Yeah, come on,” Jess called back. “We’re done talking about you.”

  Gareth came through with a tray of drinks. He put on a look of mock disappointment as he handed mugs round.

  “Oh. Thought you’d be modelling these catsuits for me by now.”

  I looked at Jess. “Are all men perverts about the twin thing or just the ones we meet?”

  “All of them, I think.” She went back to the other sofa to snuggle up with Gareth. “Hands off this pervert though, our Bobbie, he’s mine.”

  “You say the sweetest things, Doc.” Gareth twisted her face round for a kiss.

  “Not the snogging again,” I said, lifting my eyes to the ceiling. “Shame the dog likes you, Gareth, or you’d get a nip on the ankle for that. I think Mum had him specially trained.”

  “Worth it though,” he said when he’d unplugged himself from Jess’s face. “Speaking of, Jessie, you going to introduce me to your mum any time soon? You’ve met the drunken reprobates who pass for my family.”

  “Trust me, if you’d met my mother you wouldn’t be asking that.”

  He looked puzzled. “Well no. Because I’d already have met her, wouldn’t I?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Go on, what’s the worst that could happen? I’ll turn on the charm, be Mr Perfect Boyfriend. And if she still hates me, I’ve got some cracking mother-in-law jokes I can whip out after rugby practice to entertain the lads. Win-win.”