Into the Light

by Megan Hetherington

  He’s not wearing any underwear and his cock bounces out as I wrench his jeans down.

  Sweet motherfucking Jesus and Mary.

  It’s massive.

  Like thick and long and perfectly straight.

  And totally pointing upwards.

  I think I might have even said that out loud as I give in to the overwhelming urge to lean across and lick the underside of his shaft.

  “Stop,” he barks.

  I pull back in shock.

  “Stop, unless you want this to end right now.”

  Well I most certainly don’t want that.

  I pull off my top and he unzips my jeans. I’m relieved I wore a matching bra and panty set.

  He rests one knee on the sofa next to me and rubs his hands firmly across the lace of my bra, sparking shockwaves through my nipples before roughly pulling the cups down. My breasts bolstered up to him.

  Bending at the waist, he takes one nipple between his teeth, sucking it up into his hot wet mouth.

  He stands again to pull off my jeans and then moves his knee across my outer thigh to the other, pushing them open and then lowering into the space between. I can feel his cock pressing on my entrance through my panties.

  I’m soaked. Absolutely soaked and I am begging him to push harder but his swollen head is bouncing off against the lace and cotton.

  Then he quickly bites down on my other nipple, shooting a pleasurable pain into the back of my throat. I arch my neck and push my head back.

  Then he’s gone.

  His hands have gone from my breasts.

  His cock has gone from my sex.

  He’s gone.

  I panic and straighten my neck to look down but barely make it before the first lick forces me to arch again. He’s moved my panties to one side with his fingers and his mouth is pressed up against my pussy.

  I stop breathing.

  I stop moving.

  And start trembling.

  And fizzing.

  And moaning.

  Trembling with every kiss, every lick, every suck, every bite.

  And then I explode. All over his face.

  An intense white light flashes behind my eyelids and stars burst in succession, one after the other.

  I’m vaguely aware of him crawling up my body and the new taste on his lips as he presses his mouth against mine.

  When he pulls away, I open my eyes and through the aftershock of stars and tingles, I see his lips ask me if I’m okay with this. My ears catch up seconds later and my mouth responds to him seconds after that.

  His eyes searing through me all the time while he patiently waits.

  “Yes Kane, I want you. I want you now.”

  My neck arches again as he pushes in. The memory of my orgasm resurfaces and every inch brings it back with overwhelming but satisfyingly slow intensity.

  “Oh. My. God.”

  He fills me and then some. I can hear every single nerve ending singing at me, none of which have had a voice before.

  “Oh. My. God.” I repeat, when he withdraws.

  “Oh my God. Oh my God.” As he picks up the pace and pummels me up to the end of the sofa.

  A final slam and then it happens again.

  White light. Stars. Tingling.

  And it appears that it’s happening to him too.

  We lay still for a while.

  Catching our breath. Collecting our thoughts.

  A giggle fizzes up from my still curled toes, erupting in my belly and out through my mouth.

  “What?” Kane looks confused. Hurt.

  “I… I don’t… I don’t know.”

  A tear trickles from the corner of my eye and down my temple.

  Kane wipes it away with his thumb. “Are you okay Rosa?”

  “Okay. I’m more than okay. That was fantastic and wonderful and fantastic and… Jesus…Kane.”

  I strain my neck to meet his mouth and show him how I feel with a kiss because the words and the tears and the giggle just aren’t doing it.

  He is still between my legs and inside me and I squeeze when he tries to leave.

  “Don’t worry I’ll be back again soon.” He smiles. “I just need to go clean up.”

  He pads off to remove the condom, which I didn’t even see him put on, and comes back minutes later with a wet towel. He cleans me too, which I think is awfully sweet. It’s never been a consideration before.

  “Are you staying tonight Kane?”

  He pushes back a lock of hair from my face.

  “Of course I’m staying. I’m not a love ‘em and leave ‘em type of guy, especially where you’re concerned.”

  My heart melts.

  “Shall we go upstairs then?”

  I lead him out of the living room and he pauses to lock the front door.

  I can’t believe I’m doing this, leading a guy that I’ve only known for a few weeks, completely naked, up my stairs and into my bed.

  “Oh, my bed.” I stop in the doorway and frown at the huge pile of clothes on it. “No worries, we’ll stay in the guest room.”

  I go to the bathroom leaving him to get into bed. When I return he’s standing at the window, elbows resting on the frame and his head poking outside. His form, silhouetted in the moonlight, is just beautiful. Triangular back and firm rounded backside. I slide up behind him, wrap my arms around his front and push my softness into him. My head rests on his shoulder and we both look out onto the garden.

  “Can you smell that?” he asks.

  “Not sure, what do you mean?”

  “The scent of the jasmine.”

  I inhale deep and close my eyes to concentrate my senses. The first thing I smell is Kane and I have to close that out to catch anything beyond him. It’s faint but I think I can detect it on the breeze as it wafts in.

  There seems there is nothing straightforward about this guy; he’s still an enigma to me.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Rosa

  I can smell coffee and hear the birds in the garden. The sound at the back of the house is so different to the front. No cars, or panting joggers, just birds and lawnmowers and the smell of freshly mown grass and coffee.

  Coffee.

  I open my eyes and sit up onto my elbows just as Kane walks through the bedroom door with two cups of coffee. What a magnificent sight to wake up to. I close my eyes tight and open them again to make sure I’m not dreaming. The cups are now down on the bedside table and the sight is still definitely really there.

  How on earth have I ended up with such a gorgeous man?

  “Morning beautiful.”

  He sits on the bed and pushes my hair back from my face, pausing to hold my cheek in his palm and look deep into my eyes before kissing me. Slow and hard.

  It feels like an elixir, a shot of espresso after the most wonderful night’s sleep I’ve had in months. I remember falling asleep in the crook of his arm, my hand on his chest and one leg across his thighs. It was such a natural way to fall asleep and I wanted it to be my bedtime routine. I would usually wear a nightie or a tee to bed but last night skin on skin proved it was definitely the way to go.

  The kiss has a direct line to my sex, which is feeling used but most definitely open to another assault. I’m worried though. Worried that last night was a one off; to dare hope that today or ever again would be as good was foolhardy and undeserved.

  But I go with the flow, letting the kiss deepen. Fingers trailing. Nails scratching. Tongues teasing. Hair tugging. Soft and hard. Hot and searing. Slapping. Moaning. Groaning. Screaming.

  Holy shit.

  I have a new drug.

  I tried it once and liked it.

  Went back for more and now I’m hooked.

  I’m giggling and crying again.

  He laughs this time.

  “Do you want a fresh cup? These are cold.”

  “If it comes with exactly the same delivery service. Then hell yeah.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t. I need to go home and get changed.
I promised I’d help with the gardening today. Remember, yours is on the list?”

  “What about if I swap my gardening for some more of us?”

  “That’d work.” He laughs.

  “I’ll make coffee.” Retrieving a robe from my bedroom.

  I make the second round while he dresses and then joins me outside and we sit sipping our coffees in the cool but sunny spot just beyond the herb garden.

  “I’m sorry about last night Kane. You shouldn’t have had to get involved.”

  “Do you mean with your ex?”

  I nod.

  “I was glad I was there. Did he used to push you around?”

  “No. Not at all. He has always been a bully, to other people that is, work colleagues and stuff, but he’s never raised a hand to me.” I briefly remember the sculpture throwing incident and how he did raise a hand, but didn’t follow through. No need to worry Kane about that. “I think I angered him yesterday morning, dumping some of his stuff outside his apartment block.”

  “That’s no excuse. Is that his girlfriend that was with him?”

  I nod and take another sip of my coffee. “Yep, about eight months knocked up and he’s not even been gone six.”

  He just raises his eyebrows.

  “Do you think he will come around here?”

  “Not sure. I don’t’ think so.”

  He’s silent.

  “Don’t worry Kane. I’ll be fine.”

  “I hope I haven’t worsened it for you. I’ll go see him and make sure he gets the message.”

  “No. It’s fine.”

  He’s silent, which is worrying.

  “I think Charles got the message last night, Kane.”

  He presses his lips together and ticks his jaw.

  “Right.” He puts his mug down. “I need to get off but I’ll be back about four. Oh, and I need to give you my number, so you can call me. Anytime.”

  I get my phone from the living room, blushing at the sight of my clothes and underwear strewn across the carpet, and tap his number into my contact list. Tagging it in ‘Favourites’.

  I don’t want him to go and when he pulls me into his arms, I cling like I need to merge myself into his being and go with him anywhere he does.

  “Promise you’ll ring if he turns up, or gets in touch, or for whatever reason just ring. I’ll always pick up if you call.”

  I nod.

  His serious face gives over to a smile. “I really want to see you again Rosa.”

  “Me too.” I grin back. My stomach flipping continuously at his words.

  “Later.” He presses a kiss to the end of my nose.

  “Later.”

  I open the door for him, and stand watching as he pulls out of the drive.

  As the gate slides back into position my breath hitches and a searingly cold sensation rivets down each vertebra.

  Charles.

  I am sure I just saw Charles’ car parked up across the road.

  I run up the stairs to my bedroom to check over the gate, hovering in the doorway, afraid to get too close to the window.

  He’s not there. But I’m sure he was.

  I go back downstairs and lock the front and back door before taking a shower.

  I wasn’t concerned before about Charles, far from it, but the hatred in his eyes last night was intense. Am now I am. I couldn’t understand it though. He was the one that had cheated. Left me. Caused the damage. Why was he angry at me?

  I finish my cleansing routine and dress.

  It’s Sunday and I’m going to see Dad. I’ll take him some flowers from the garden and I might even have time to bake him some of his favourite cookies, as well as the rhubarb fool I’d planned to make.

  I busy myself, choosing the healthiest looking stems of rhubarb and dolloping out the cookie mixture onto wax paper. All to the sound of some serious soul classics.

  My phone beeps and with floured hands I pick it up.

  Gardener! Is that the best you can do?

  Hah.

  What a Cxxx.

  If only he knew.

  I sing “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor at the top of my voice, using the phone as a pseudo-microphone.

  Feeling exalted, I drop the phone and shove the cookies in the oven. It’s nearly eleven o’clock and I need to leave soon if I want to reach Dad before his lunch and afternoon nap.

  I finish getting ready and put all the treats in a jute bag, minus one cookie that I couldn’t resist testing out.

  Poppy won’t be up yet for me to vent at and there’s no way I’m telling Kane about that text.

  I wonder how he knows Kane is a gardener? And I’m still chewing that over on the drive up to the care home.

  Dad is his usual self. Still healthy looking with a surprisingly good amount of hair, but otherwise vacant. Glimpses of interest when I speak about Poppy and Lily and my new job, but otherwise it feels like he is in a waiting room. Patiently biding my mithering while he waits to be called up.

  I explain to him about the car and there is no look of concern, nothing to make me feel regretful about my decision. He just reaches out for another cookie.

  I don’t talk about Charles and I’ve not told him we’ve split, but I do mention that I went to dinner Mr Crane’s nephew, and his smile widens. I take this as a sign of his approval.

  My drive home takes me close to Mr Ford’s and I decide to drop in some more cash. I should have done it before now but he’s still not produced an invoice.

  Against my will, I’m ushered in by his wife. They’re like chalk and cheese. Whereas he’s diminutive, she’s formidable and where he speaks calmly her words are loaded with vigour.

  Mr Ford is washing the pots at the kitchen sink and, by the look of the amount stacked up, I would say they’d just finished their Sunday lunch.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  “No not at all. I’ve just put the kettle on if you’d like a cup of tea?”

  I wouldn’t really. I prefer coffee over tea, but it’s the Yorkshire way and as traditional as it is to drink tea, it is of equal tradition to accept one when offered.

  Mrs Ford makes a proper brew, thick enough to stand your teaspoon up in. I brace myself for the first sip and am not wrong. I feel it coating the roof of my mouth and have to add another sugar.

  “Has the lock been alright?” Mr Ford asks over his shoulder.

  “Yes thank you. Just perfect.”

  “Pity you had to have them changed like that.” Mrs Ford comments, passing over some biscuits studded with what look like dead flies but are no doubt currants.

  “Mmm,” I agree and wonder if I’m here because subconsciously I’m worried about Charles breaking in.

  “Hear he’s shacked up with some new lass now.”

  “Mmm.” I’m now wishing I’d never stopped and just pushed some money through the door like last time.

  “Pregnant too by all accounts.”

  “Mmm.”

  How gossip travels quickly. I’m sure this woman knows nothing about me and Charles, or Charles and Crimson to be more precise, but even so she is going to give her opinion. I can feel it coming.

  “She’s already got one babe. Wasn’t fit to look after that, so the father’s raising it.”

  Interesting.

  “He’ll do well to keep his eyes on his wallet too. She left the last one holding the baby and all the bills she’d racked up.”

  Very interesting.

  Nothing like a bit of gossip.

  I feel I’ve drank the polite amount of tea and leave it on the table along with three twenty-pound notes.

  I video call Poppy as soon as I get in. She looks tired.

  “You okay?” I ask, hoping she says she is so I can get on with the huge number of updates that I’ve got for her.

  “Yeah. Lily was at mother-in-law’s last night so we went out on a date and had lots and lots of fantastic sex when we got in.”

  “Me too,” I deadpan.


  “So, I’m feeling a little worse for … What did you just say?” She pushes her face into the camera.

  I nod, aware from the little square in the corner that I’m grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

  “Noooooo,” she rasps. “Who with? No don’t tell me let me guess… the gardener!” She claps her hands.

  Drat. I wanted to tell her.

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “Did you have the big ‘O’?”

  “I certainly did. The works.”

  She lifts off the chair and does a little running man jig, furiously pumping her arms.

  “Get in. I told you.”

  “I know you did and he’s so nice. Oh, and you’ll never guess what… he nearly had a fight with Charles.”

  “Whaaat?”

  I lean back from the laptop to protect my eardrums from her scream.

  “What do you mean? This is like teenage shit all over again.”

  “I know, but Kane - did I tell you he’s called Kane.”

  “Yes, he told me. Remember? We had tea at his uncle’s house?”

  “Oh, yeah, well Kane handled it so brilliantly. Charles looked like such a dick and Crimson ran off.”

  “Crimson?”

  I take a deep breath. I need to start at the beginning, not the end. I proceed to tell her about Charles and his pregnant girlfriend, who now has a name and a ring on her finger, and the apartment that they must be renting because he wants the house back, and the estate agent and Crimson’s first baby and her bills and her old firm and my half night out with her old work colleagues and Kane’s life in Oxford, and Dad, and oh the car.

  She makes me pause halfway through to go for a wee and a top up on her coffee.

  “Jeez Louise.” She flops backwards on the sofa when I finally stop. “I need to go back to bed, I’m exhausted after all that.”

  “I know, and…” I look at my watch, “Kane’s coming around in fifteen minutes. I need to go and freshen up.”

  “He’s coming around again? My, he must be keen.”

  “Hmm.”

  “When you go freshen up, don’t forget to put a bit of Vaseline down there”, she points downwards, “or Sudocrem. You don’t want to get sore patches.”

  I titter.

  Oh, but I do.