by Lily Morton
I’ve never been kissed so carnally in my life, like he’s fucking my mouth, like he needs my mouth more than he needs to breathe, and then he pulls back slightly before forcing his way back inside. We both pant out choked sighs. “Okay a ghrá?” he asks huskily.
I nod frantically as words are beyond me and then I actually see his control snap as he rears back and starts to hammer into me. I arch back tilting my pelvis and just moan as he shuttles back and forth, his cock swimming in my wetness and moving smoothly in me hitting my clit spot on, and it isn’t long before I feel the tension build and fizzle inside my pussy.
“Fuck Bram,” I moan and he nods, his teeth set and his eyes fixed on me.
“Do it babe, come,” he mutters. I need to come so badly and then it’s on me and I arch into him letting out a choked scream as the pleasure goes on and on. I’m dimly aware of him shouting out as he hammers against me and then a low groan as warmth fills me. For a second I slump against him, content and replete and dark.
We lean on each other for a while feeling his cock twitch inside me, enjoying the bliss and maybe trying to avoid focusing on what we’ve just done, but then he stirs. “Jesus Christ,” he exclaims. “I didn’t fucking use anything.”
I jerk. “Oh my God Bram.”
He presses against me insistently. “I’m clean. I fucking swear to you that I’m clean. I never go without a condom and I’m tested regularly. My last test was a week ago.”
“I’m clean too,” I venture and he laughs gently.
“Baby I know. You’re the cleanest person that I’ve ever met.” I wonder what he means but then caress his face which still bears the slackness of orgasm.
“I’m on birth control as well Bram and I’m religious about taking it.”
He nods and as if synchronised we both look down to where his cock is still inside me. He’s still half hard and as we watch, some of his semen seeps out, spreading over the root of his wet cock and making jewel like droplets in the dark nest of his pubic curls. He groans and almost as if unaware of what he’s doing he pulls out and thrusts back in, watching the way that my bare, pussy lips grasp at him. “Jesus,” he mutters. “That’s fucking sexy.” He looks at me, lust riding him again. “I want you again a ghrá.”
I nod, unable to stop my pelvis curling into him or my hands from roaming greedily over his shoulders and down to his arse, where I grab the tight globes and pull him into me.
He moans and then pulls back. “Not here though,” he says hoarsely. “I want you in my bed, your hair spread out over my pillows and me between your open legs. I want that for my memory.”
I’m troubled for a second because he says that so resignedly, like he knows that this might be our only time, but I’m determined to thrust that melancholy thought away. I won’t regret this I promise myself through the rising tide of passion.
Then another thought strikes me. “Oh my God the others will know what we’re doing Bram. They’ll have heard us and how are we going to get out of here?”
He stills. “There’s no sound out there and I heard the door slam after I told someone to fuck off. They’re gone. They wouldn’t hang around after hearing us.” He stares at me and my flushed cheeks. “I don’t care,” he says deliberately. “I don’t fucking care what anyone thinks. This night is ours and I’m going to make every second last. It might be my only chance.”
He kisses me deeply and wetly, and wrapping my legs around him he carries me out of the bathroom and up the stairs to his bed.
***
I wake slowly in a pool of sunlight, the covers tangled around me and a wonderful soreness in my body. For a second I bask in the feeling and then send my hand out seeking his skin. When I feel only the coldness of the sheets I force my eyes open and then still as I see him standing naked at the floor to ceiling window. One arm is raised and resting against the glass and he’s lowered his forehead to it looking deep in thought. The early morning sun limns his body in its golden light, catching on the lean outline of his body and glistening on the dips and swells of hair roughened muscles.
I look at him for a long minute. It’s so rare to be able to look at him without him sensing it. He’s a born performer and can sense attention anywhere, and he’s rarely still. He’s so beautiful and I think it’s then in that quiet, sun drenched moment that I fully accept that I’ve fallen in love with him and that I have to let him go.
I knew last night that it was a mistake and yet I regret nothing. I’d relished every sweat filled, moaning minute and I’ll remember it forever, but I know to the last vowel the conversation that we’re going to be having in a minute, and the soft side of me recoils like a hedgehog from the thought of being the recipient of his usual ‘only a fuck’ speech that I’ve heard him give to so many women. I can’t have him saying those words to me and as much as I know now that I love him in a deep and passionate way, I’m pragmatic enough to know that it’s hopeless.
Bram doesn’t want commitment and I couldn’t be with him feeling as I do and have some sort of casual fucking arrangement. It would gut me and I have too much pride to beg for scraps at his table. So I must make sure that he knows that I’m on the same page as him. Maybe friends will be enough I think despairingly.
I take one more second to gaze at him unknowing, fixing the picture of his naked beauty in my head in this moment before everything is lost and we go back to normal. Then mind made up I shift position wincing slightly when I realise that I left my hearing aid in. His head shoots up straightaway, all his attention fixed on me and an enigmatic expression on his normally open face.
For a second we just stare at each other and his eyes seem to drink in my face, my body, my hair spread on his pillow and I almost think that I see wonder there, and then a shadow crosses his face and his expression closes, and I sigh because despite my brave words to myself, a little bit of me was still clinging to the hope that he wouldn’t regret it and would want to keep me. No one ever has before I think slightly bitterly so don’t fucking beg. You never have so don’t start now.
Mind made up I make myself smile in that carefree, cold manner that I learnt years ago. A smile that admits nothing and asks for less. “You alright babe?” I ask and pride myself on the fact that my voice is clear.
He stares at me for a second. “I’m alright,” he finally says in his early morning husky voice which often makes him sound like he’s consumed two packets of cigarettes before sleep. His accent is thicker than normal and I wonder what he’s concealing under that locked down mask. His eyes sharpen on my face like a laser. “Are you?”
I stall for time and reach for a hair band on the table by the bed. The sheet slips as I reach over and I think I hear a sharp intake of breath, but when I settle back into the bed tugging the sheet around me and pulling my hair up his face is once more as inscrutable as a marble statue. “I’m fine,” I finally say. “It’s all good isn’t it?”
He stares again, crossing his arms over his chest looking like a moody model photo brought to life, and I wish passionately that he’d put some clothes on but my wish isn’t granted.
Finally he nods as if listening to some inner voice and then he moves forward and seats himself by me, so close that I can feel the intense heat of his body and smell his sweet, spicy scent, darker now and under laid with the smell of sex that lingers in the bed sheets. His nostrils flare as if he smells it too, and then almost as if he can’t help himself he raises a hand to push back a stray strand of hair lying on my shoulder. I don’t mean to flinch but I can’t help it and his hand stalls in mid-air while something fierce and unknowable passes over his face, and then his hand falls gracefully back onto the bed lying palm up and somehow vulnerable.
I stare at it for a second, so tempted to grab it and pull it to me but before I can do it he bounds up, moving jerkily to his clothes lying on the floor. He pulls his jeans up his legs and I stare because he’s moving clumsily unlike his normal grace.
When he turns to face me his expression is onc
e more the humorous and good natured one that he normally wears, but something in it makes it more of a mask now. He shrugs and smiles at me. “I think I can guess what you’re going to say,” he says, leaning against the chest of drawers with his arms crossed.
Something in his posture looks defensive as if he’s protecting himself against pain and I frown wondering whether I’ve misread the situation, but his next words dispel the impression. “I’ve had this conversation so many times but I never thought that I’d be having it with you Al.”
“There’s no need,” I rush into speech. “It was a mistake Bram, but can’t we just go back to the way that we were?”
A flinch passes over his face so quickly that it’s like a sudden ripple in still water, but then it’s gone and he smiles almost wearily. “Can we do that Al? Can you forget what we were like last night?”
I nod vigorously ignoring my inner voice which is shouting loudly that no I can’t. “Of course I can. We’re mates Bram. You’re my best friend. I don’t want to lose that ever.” I try to lighten the moment. “And I know you’ll be able to do that. You’ve had enough practice. You’ve got the sexual memory of a goldfish after all - one turn of the bowl and you can’t remember anything.”
Something that looks very much like rage passes over his face before it goes back to that watchfulness, but he looks paler than before. “So you’re okay to go back to normal then?” I nod my head vigorously but he remorselessly continues. “You’re okay with me bringing back women and sleeping with them at the flat? That is after all just me being my normal slutty self.”
I’m so proud of myself at that moment because I don’t flinch although the thought of that is like a fatal wound inside me. “I’m fine with that,” I say, my voice as steady as normal. “We’re just friends, last night was a one off.” I smile. “At least I can say that I’ve had the Bram O’Connell experience.”
His face whitens and I know that I’ve gone too far but I don’t know why. “Well you’re not alone in that are you Alys? I mean that’s not a special dispensation at all. Thousands of women have had it and it means fuck all,” he says almost viciously.
I can’t help the flinch this time and his arms uncross as if he’s going to come to me, but I recover myself quickly pulling my shield around me. I look him full in the face at the weary, restless beauty of him. “Do you want me to leave Bram? I will if this is uncomfortable for you.”
He jerks upright looking as if he’s been punched. “No I don’t want you to go,” he says loudly and fiercely. “Why would you go?”
“Well if things are too uncomfortable. I mean you’re not exactly used to your bed mates sticking around.”
“Things won’t be uncomfortable. It’s fine and you’re not my usual style of bed mate anyway.” I shiver inside but he seems to shake off whatever mood he’s in and comes to the bed, standing at the foot as if drawn nearer. “I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay here with me. If this is what it takes for you to stay, us being friends again, then don’t worry because we’ll never not be friends.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t think that you realise how much you mean to me Alys. I’ll do anything for you not to leave, so we’ll go back to normal okay?”
I open my mouth to say I don’t know what, but he grabs my head gently and bends forward pressing his lips to my hair. I think he inhales deeply as if smelling the strands but then he pulls away and his face has gone back to his normal mischievousness, although when he speaks it sounds like he has a mouthful of glass.
“Because you were so good in bed I’ll make coffee this morning but obviously it was a one off so don’t get used to it.” He pauses. “It’s fine now babe, but maybe don’t roll around the floor fighting another girl. I think we’ve discovered that might be one of my triggers.”
I make myself smile and laugh. “I won’t go in for WWF any time soon then.”
He shakes his head laughing and giving me a hug he lopes out of the room, but as I sit there in the sunlight I just feel cold, and I can’t help but remember Sid’s warning at the rehab clinic and feel that maybe without realising or meaning to, I just let go of him.
Part Two
After
I never thought I’d miss you
Half as much as I do
And I never thought I’d feel this way
The way I feel
About you
As soon as I wake up
Every night, every day
I know that it’s you I need
To take the blues away
Madness “It Must be Love”
Chapter Twelve
One Year Later
Present day
Alys
I stare at the incredibly beautiful, stick thin model who is currently eating my expensive muesli, and feel a wave of violence rise in me. She’s perched on one of Bram’s leather bar stools, long wet blonde hair flowing over her shoulders, and her bare, tanned legs and arms displayed to their best advantage. She’s wearing an old Prodigy tour shirt of Bram’s and it’s fairly obvious that she’s not wearing anything else i.e. underwear. Eugh! I make a mental note to disinfect the seat when she’s gone.
I hover for a second feeling sick as I see her kiss swollen lips and satisfied smile, and then I make myself relax and paste a welcoming smile onto my face. Looking up she sees me in the doorway and immediately stiffens, a bitchy expression sliding into her perfect features. I inwardly sigh and let the initial false smile fall away. This is the most common reaction to me amongst Bram’s women when they find out that I live in his flat. It’s either this or trying too hard to be my friend, but it’s the first reaction that’s the most common.
“Can I help you?” she asks sharply which is highly ironic as she’s the guest making herself comfortable while I’m the one that actually lives here. But she still makes me feel like an interloper and I hate her suddenly for that because that’s just how I feel all the time now. After all she’s the invited one, the one that he chose to bring back to his bed and fill the flat with the sound of their moans and groans. I’m just the person that he barely tolerates anymore, that he’s obviously counting down the days until I leave.
I sigh and stiffen my spine. Making myself smile I wander into the kitchen. “Good morning,” I murmur. “Did you find everything that you need?”
“Sweetheart I did that last night,” she smiles, uncurling herself into a deliberate feline stretch and eyeing me smugly all the time.
Cow I think but I keep smiling like I always do. “That’s good. Let me know if you need anything.”
“You?” she echoes. “Who are you exactly? Are you the maid?”
I look down at my ripped, skinny jeans and slouchy navy jumper and smile wryly. “No I’m staying here at the moment,” I say quietly as I busy myself making a cup of tea and sliding a bagel into the toaster.
Silence falls for a second and I occupy myself by admiring my electric blue pedicure, but I can feel her looking at me like a laser beam on the side of my face and then she stirs and I look up. “Oh you’re the disabled relation from Ireland that he was telling me about last night,” she says dismissively, elongating her words in an exaggerated way which is so insulting. I’m deaf, I’m not an idiot. I feel anger rise too quickly in me to be denied. How dare she speak to me in this fashion as if I’m defective, as if she and Bram had a good chat about how good he is to take the poor little deaf girl into his home.
Putting down the butter knife I turn to face her, pasting a sympathetic look on my face. She looks momentarily worried and so she should. “You know I do think that you’re brave,” I say conversationally.
“What?”
“Yes, it’s so brave of you to be with Bram despite the problem.”
She flicks her eyes from side to side and for a second I can clearly read how much she doesn’t want to admit ignorance. Finally she caves. “What problem?” she whispers.
“Well you know, the Bertha problem.” I mouth the word Bertha and she stares at me fas
cinated and hanging on my words.
“Who is Bertha?”
I feign surprise. “What? He didn’t tell you? Oh perhaps I shouldn’t say anything.”
She glares at me. “Oh no he’s told me some stuff but tell me more. I’m sure he won’t mind.”
I grin inside. Of course he won’t. “Well she’s his ex but don’t worry because the court order stops her getting too close.”
“What?” she whisper shrieks.
“Yes she’s a bit …” I whistle and make a twirling motion near my head. I don’t think that she’ll mind the political incorrectness seeing as she has just treated me like a village idiot for being deaf.
She sits up sharply and looks around quickly, almost as if Bram’s fictional ex is going to come at her any minute and I supress a grin. “Is she dangerous?”
“Well …” I seesaw my hand, fully enjoying myself now. “She can be I’ve got to be honest, but not often and security usually gets to her before she can hurt anyone.”
“Usually?” Her voice rises in a shriek and I consider turning my hearing aid down for a second.
“Well sometimes she can be a bit quick and the hammer has got quite a long handle so it’s got a long reach.” She jumps up like a shot. “Oh no where are you going? Seriously we have to pity her you know,” I say sanctimoniously. “This love for Bram, it’s a sickness but hey I’m sure it’ll be worth it.” She glares at me. “No really, what’s a hammer against plentiful orgasms?”
In a few quick strides she’s out of the kitchen and I run quietly to the door just in time to see Bram in the hallway and hear his Irish voice deep and familiar. “Hey pretty girl. Now that you’ve cleaned up how about I mess you up again.” There’s the sudden loud sound of a slap and he curses. “What the fuck?”
