Not Just My Heart

by Em Taylor

  “His childhood has nothing to do with it. It makes him a damned good teacher. I’ve been to his school. The kids love and respect him.”

  “That might be fine in a professional capacity, but not in a personal one,” my dad said.

  I looked to Jonas who shrugged. “I like the guy, and it’s your life.”

  “What do you know, Jonas?” snapped Mum. “Simon’s the first person you’ve brought home.”

  “True. Maybe I knew I had to be certain given how hurt you were at Lacey and Rory’s break up.”

  “And are you sure, son?” Dad asked.

  “Sure enough to get married.”

  “You’re engaged?” I squealed.

  Jonas gazed at Simon, and a big smile broke over his features. “We are.”

  I edged out from my seat, being careful of the coffee, and threw my arms around my wee brother. “Congratulations. Can’t believe you’re tying the knot before me.”

  “The big clod got himself lost for a while, but I think Rory is getting his shit together. Don’t let others tell you who you should be with,” he said into my ear, but it was loud enough for my parents to hear.

  I squeezed my brother a bit harder, then turned to Simon. He was a tall guy with platinum blond hair and pale blue eyes. He was handsome and had a bit of Viking about him. I could understand what Jonas saw in him.

  “Do you mind a hug from your soon-to-be sister-in-law?” I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, since he’d met me half an hour ago and been immersed into family drama immediately.

  He stood and enveloped me in a hug. “I agree with Jonas about Rory, by the way.”

  “Thank you. And congratulations. We’ll have the ‘don’t hurt my brother or I’ll castrate you’ talk later.”

  He chuckled, and somehow, I knew this guy and Jonas were going to be a great match.

  Mum and Dad both got up and congratulated my brother and his fiancé, asking them about wedding plans, of which there were none yet. But they soon sat down and turned their attention back to comparing how nice Simon was and bitching off Rory.

  I gritted my teeth when my dad once again started on his unsuitable home life. “He told me he stole when he was younger.”

  “To eat, Dad. He was a kid, and he had no food in his junkie parents’ house. He wasn’t out stealing computer games for shits and giggles. Does that not show you resilience? Yes, he fucked up and to an extent—he hurt us all when he walked out of our lives—but he’s sorry, and he’s not a silly young man anymore. He’s responsible. He never stopped loving me.”

  “So he says. How many women has he slept with in the interim?” My mother raised an eyebrow.

  Ouch. That hurt.

  “I don’t know. It’s none of my business. He was single and free to sleep with whomever he wanted. As was I.”

  “But you haven’t, have you?”

  I rolled my eyes. I really didn’t want to have this conversation with my parents in front of my wee brother. “I’ve not been celibate. Once you’ve tasted the food of the fairy-folk, it’s hard to come out from under the mountain.”

  “What does that mean?” my mother asked, her gaze darting towards my father before coming back to rest on me.

  I glanced at Jonas who was grimacing and shrugged. “Once you’ve had sex, it’s kind of hard to go back to being celibate.”

  “I could be celibate easily,” said Mum, looking out the window and blushing.

  I turned to my dad. “Clearly you’re not doing it right.”

  “Lacey,” Jonas’s warning tone pulled me from what I was saying.

  This wasn’t me. I was never rude to my parents. “Sorry. That was uncalled for, but so is asking about my personal life and baiting me about Rory’s while we were apart. It’s none of my business and certainly none of yours. I thought you wanted me to be happy.”

  “We do sweetheart,” said Dad, his brow scrunching in unhappiness. “But he won’t make you happy. I know his background isn’t his fault, but he’s always had instability so he will always be unstable. A nice girl like you needs someone who’s grown up with two parents.”

  Simon coughed. “Umm, my parents divorced when I was two. I see my dad every couple of years.”

  My parents looked at each other, then Mum turned to Simon. “Was your mother a junkie?”

  “Uh, no. She was a carer for old people. Still is.”

  “There you go then. There’s a big difference. Your mum gave you a stable home life despite her circumstances. Lacey needs someone from a good home.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment and gathered my thoughts so I would speak in a way that didn’t disrespect my parents but let them know I wasn’t giving up my boyfriend.

  I liked that word. Boyfriend. I liked that once again Rory Thompson was my boyfriend.

  I glanced at my brother who was typing away furiously on his phone. Who was he talking to in my moment of misery?

  Turning back to my mum and dad, I said, “I need him. I need Rory. If you can’t accept him and be civil to him at the very least, then I can’t visit you. And you know how much staying away from you both will break my heart. I love you.”

  Tears welled in Mum’s eyes, and she turned to my father. She must have known her argument was as weak as piss. “He hurt you so much, baby girl.”

  “I didn’t exactly fight for him. He barely had the words out of his mouth, and I chucked him out the car without even asking why. I drove off up here, blocking him on social media and cutting him out of my life for six years. For someone who had a stable upbringing, it wasn’t very mature. Maybe it was a cry for help and I ignored it. Why would I not find out where his sudden need to break it off with me had come from? God, he could have been having a breakdown or anything, and I ignored it. That makes me a terrible person. I’m lucky he was okay.”

  “You can’t blame yourself, baby girl,” Dad said, but I could tell he was noodling on that.

  “Right. I’m going to go. It’s been lovely meeting you, Simon.” I stood. “I don’t need you to see me to the wigwam, Jonas. It’s just down the road.”

  “I’m coming,” Jonas insisted, getting to his feet and glancing at Simon. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Once outside, I turned to Jonas. “Who were you texting when we were talking?”

  “Just a friend. I was giving him some sage advice about relationships and how to land his girl for good.”

  “What do you know about landing girls?”

  He slung his arm around me. “Listen, Big, all relationships are the same. Doesn’t matter what your genitals look like. You have to know what the other person really desires and give them it.”

  “What does Rory really desire?”

  He shrugged. “What he never got as a child. Unconditional love. Unfortunately, he had it and lost it. If you ask me, which I know you didn’t but I’m going to tell you my opinion anyway, Mum and Dad will come round. However, it will always be conditional on him not hurting you, and Rory knows it.”

  “So he’ll never get it?”

  “Not from them, but you never stopped loving him. He’s already got what he wants. You’re the one who loves him unconditionally. He broke your heart. He abandoned you. And yet, here you are, fighting his corner because you love the big eejit. Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to make sure he knows it.”

  I nodded. “Thanks. You’re incredibly wise for a wee brother.”

  “Well, I was always the clever one in the family.” He winked, and I punched him on the shoulder.

  “See you tomorrow, you little shit.”

  “See you then.” He watched as I walked the short distance to the wooden hut structure known as a wigwam and unlocked it. I grimaced at the sight that welcomed me.

  Chapter 23

  Lacey

  RORY LAY ON THE BED, shirtless, a bottle of Jack Daniel’s in one hand and his phone in the other. His jeans were open, and the tip of his hard cock peeked out of his boxers to lay over his belly.

 
He raised the bottle in a salute. “Welcome to my party, darlin’.”

  “A party for one, I see. Sex and booze, but no girl.”

  “The girl has just arrived—an incredibly beautiful one, I might add. Sadly, her parents fuckin’ hate me, so there’s that.” He looked back at his phone.

  “Why are you getting drunk on straight Jack? You don’t even like whiskey.”

  “Jack and I are old friends. I like pissing off your dad by drinking American whiskey—whiskey with an E. It always upsets Scottish whisky snobs like your Dad who can’t see past their single malts.”

  I ran my hand through my hair and crawled onto the bed as I shucked off my jacket. There wasn’t a lot of room in the wigwam once the bed was set up. It was a wooden structure with a seating area at one end which folded into a large bed. At the opposite end was a bench on one side and a counter with a microwave and kettle on the other.

  I sighed. “Babe, it can hardly piss him off if he’s not aware you’re doing it.”

  Rory snorted. “Doesn’t matter. He’d be looking down his nose at me if he knew. It’s unbecoming to get rat-arsed, especially drinking out the bottle. Don’t you think I’m showing my common upbringing? Should have asked for a paper bag.” He sat up. “Damn, I should have got a bottle of cheap cider or a bottle of Mad Dog. Then I could really have looked like the kid of a pair of junkies. I think there’s a blue pen in my bag. We could draw blue track marks up my veins. What do you think?”

  I smiled gently as one would to a hurt dog “We’re not that posh, Rory. You know that. Yes, we’re probably slightly middle class, but my dad had to work his whole life, and we’re far from rich. This isn’t about your upbringing. They’re terrified of you hurting us all again.”

  I took the bottle from him and swigged down a mouthful. It burned going down, but apart from a slight cough, I held my own.

  Handing him the bottle back, I pulled off my top and unhooked my bra. Rory needed comfort, and the best way to comfort him was with his dick inside me. It might have been shallow, but it was the one way Rory knew how to express his deepest emotions.

  He raised an eyebrow, and his gaze flitted from my moistened lips to my bare breasts and back.

  “What the fuck are you trying to do to me, kneeling on my bed drinking whiskey out of a bottle with your tits bare? Are you wanting to be fucked when I’m so pissed off?”

  “Ro, you’ve never hurt me, and you never would.”

  “I’m smashed and I’m fucked off,” he growled.

  I raised the bottle. “Babe, there’s barely anything missing from this bottle. You make a shit alcoholic. You’re a little drunk, horny as fuck, and you have every reason to be pissed off at my unreasonable parents.”

  He took another sip of Jack and handed me back the bottle.

  “You hurt them, but I have to take some of the blame. When you announced you wanted to break it off, I didn’t ask why. I just let you go because I was afraid of the answer—that you didn’t love me anymore or that the sex had become boring. I was ill at the thought you might have lied and you had found another girl.”

  Tears leaked from my eyes, and Rory reached for me. I batted his hand away and took another swig of liquid courage before handing him back the bottle and stripping off the rest of my clothes. He took a swig and put the bottle top back on as I struggled out of my boots, jeans, and knickers.

  “I’m sorry for not fighting for us,” I said. “But you didn’t fight for us either. There was radio silence on both ends. I can try to make my parents see things differently, but you’ll have to prove yourself to them this time.”

  He nodded sullenly as I straddled him.

  “Do you understand what I’m saying, Rory?”

  He curled his fingers around my hips and pressed me against his hard cock. “Naw, babe. Ye dinnae get to dae that. Ye dinnae get to take the blame. I was the one that screwed up. I left. I broke both our hearts. I made yer parents hate me. And you think that rubbing your sweet, wet pussy against my cock makes it all better? Is that what you think?”

  I shook my head, biting my lip. “No. But we can—"

  He lifted my breast to his mouth and ran his tongue around the areola before biting it. I hissed in pain and he let go and focused his gaze on me again.

  “We can what, Lace? Fuck each other until it doesn’t matter that your dad wants to slash my car tyres?”

  Now that was not a bad idea. Sex was always the best way to bring Rory out of a mood.

  “If that’s what it takes.”

  “Lace, you can’t just—”

  “Your big cock and my bare pussy,” I whispered in his ear as I pressed my body as close to his as possible, grinding down on him.

  “F-u-u-u-uck. I love you bare.”

  “I know you do. I need you.”

  He swept his fingers slowly up my sides, making me shiver, and my muscles relaxed.

  “Ye dinnae need me. Ye need a fancy vet or a doctor. No’ the kid of a pair of junkies.”

  I kissed his neck, hoping to show in actions what he didn’t seem to believe from my words.

  I reached down between us, trying to move his clothing out of my way.

  “I’m just yer bit of rough till something better comes along,” he insisted.

  He flipped us over, knocking the wind out of me. As he tugged his jeans down, he grinned like a predator.

  “You’re not a bit of rough though, Rory,” I said.

  “Your parents think I am.”

  “Fuck my parents,” I whined.

  He laughed mirthlessly. “Maureen’s not my type and Fraser definitely isn’t.”

  I rolled my eyes and kicked my heel into the back of his calf, but Rory laughed off my useless attempt to hurt him. He pushed his fingers between my legs and ran them through the folds of my pussy.

  “You’re such a dick,” I remonstrated without any heat to my words.

  “And yet you’re fucking soaking for me.” He leaned down to close his warm and wet lips around my nipple, sucking it into his mouth and running his tongue over the tip.

  I groaned and lifted my hand to curl my fingers in his hair.

  The second I made contact, he let go of my nipple with a pop and climbed off me. “Get yourself off. I want to watch.”

  “I thought you wanted to fuck me.” I frowned. I wasn’t in the mood for him watching me diddle myself. It was too intimate, and neither of us were in that headspace tonight.

  He pulled off the clothing on his lower half, then reached for the bottle of Jack Daniel’s again. Taking a big mouthful, he swallowed it, glowering at me.

  “Well are you going to fuck me?” I asked.

  He studied me for a moment, his head tilted to one side. “How many guys did you fuck in the years we were apart?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “None that compared to you.”

  “How many, Lacey?”

  “I have no idea. How many women did you fuck?”

  “None that compare to you, sweetheart.” The corners of his lips curled into a mocking smile, and I stuck my tongue out at him. He chuckled darkly. “Promises, promises.”

  “It’s you with the inactive tongue tonight, buddy.”

  He dropped his gaze to my pussy. “Start showing me how much you need me, and I’ll help you out.”

  “Was my wet cunt not enough of a show? That’s all you, Rory.” I hauled the bottle out of his hand, taking another swig of Jack’s truth serum.

  Tugging at his shoulders I urged him atop me and curled my fingers around his cock. I opened my legs and ran the tip of his cock through the folds of my wet pussy, forcing myself not to moan at the contact. Even the touch of his hard tip on my flesh sent threads of need to my core and caused me to clench my muscles.

  He leaned back so he could lay the bottle of spirits on a small table, then he wrapped his arms around me. Flipping us over, he positioned me on top of him. “Since you’re not going to give me the show I want, you’re doing all the work for the first round.”
/>   Reaching up, he pinched my nipples between his fingers, tugging on them hard. Spikes of pain shot through me, and I gasped. My pussy clenched around him, and I started to move up and down on his cock.

  Rory bucked underneath me, letting go of my nipples and moving one hand onto my sensitive clit to massage it.

  I was soaked. Arguing had turned me on, and rubbing myself against his cock had worked me up. His cold demeanour was doing strange things to me, which it shouldn’t.

  Running his hands over my thighs and up to my hips, he curled his fingers around my waist and lifted me up and down, controlling my speed, and I rested my hands on his chest and matched his rhythm.

  I leaned forward, allowing my hair to fall around my face and brush his chest. “Mmm, that’s good.”

  “Well, make the most of it, babe, because I’m going back to Glasgow tomorrow. You can get the bus home.”

  “Rory!”

  “Come on, princess. It won’t kill you to ride with the plebs.”

  “It’s not that.” I frowned. “You were going to stay and sort this out with my parents.”

  “They’re not for sorting it out, so give me a nice goodbye fuck instead.”

  I swallowed hard. Just like before, I wouldn’t let the bastard see me cry.

  Chapter 24

  Rory

  I FUCKING HATED TREATING her like this, yet I had no choice. Although I had a plan, I had no idea if it was going to work, and I couldn’t come between her and her family if it failed. I knew what it was like to lose her family—it had nearly killed me. I wouldn’t be the cause of her experiencing that pain, even though I loved her with every fibre of my being.

  Treating her like shit to make it easier for her while we were apart didn’t come easily. Being drunk made it a little more bearable.

  I pushed farther up into her and toyed with her nipples.

  Fuck, I love her breasts.

  I tugged her down to suck on one of her tits as I thrust my hips, working my cock in and out of her. She was trying not to react, but she couldn’t avoid biology, and I knew her body too well. She was getting near.