Stripped Bare: A Novella

by Stewart, Lynsey M.

  And then I felt it.

  The connection.

  Cock to pussy. Hard to soft. Cold to warm. Wet all over and tiny flickers of excitement starting to build until they were no longer flickers, they were thuds, crashing through. Stirring. Causing an uproar, a heady commotion until the emancipation.

  Boom.

  ‘Do you still use contraception?’ he asked.

  I nodded in response. ‘I’m covered.’

  ‘I’m clean. I promise I’m clean.’ I nodded again. ‘I want to feel you, is that OK?’ Pushing my pussy towards him gave him all the permission he needed. He hissed at the first contact, closing his eyes at the pressure as he worked himself inside me, inch by pleasing inch. ‘I’ve missed this,’ he whispered. ‘Being inside you.’ His voice was hoarse and straining as he held it together. I knew him well enough to understand he was restraining himself, the fight to go quick and dirty becoming too much, but wanting to take his time after so long suddenly becoming important to him. This felt good. Almost too good. Almost. This was a passionate response. Magnetic susceptibility. Drawn back to each other. No hope to fight it.

  But there was also an acute awareness that was stripping away everything I thought I knew. Making me question thoughts and feelings, things I had convinced myself of but now only left me second guessing.

  Leaving me bare.

  Stripped bare.

  Where had he been? Why did we lose this when it was so good?

  I looked into his eyes and knew he was feeling the same way, questioning the same thing.

  ‘Tell me what you’re thinking,’ I asked as his hips started to move, slowly, drawing his cock out to the tip and pushing back in again to the root. ‘Ah.’ My head fell. My eyes rolled. His hand was pure heat splayed against my back, holding my body steady as he started to increase the pace, all while staring at my reactions, pulling my face back to meet his, full eye contact. Delicious.

  ‘I’m thinking, who was I to question the sparks? Or question if it could be better with anyone else? The answer is no,’ he replied as he pulled out and pushed himself into me again. ‘Not in a million years.’ He stilled. He stroked my face. He loved me. He fucking shuddered as I gripped myself around his cock. Flexing the tight walls, pulsing them hard and strong against him, my pussy embracing him, the pressure full to bursting. ‘Fuck. Fucking fuck.’

  The pace changed as doubt fell away. He was driven on pure instinct now, letting the demons flow out and evaporate like the last few years didn’t matter anymore. We knew this was our chance to start again and we were going to grasp it, never letting it go. He drove hard and fast, the dressing table slamming so hard against the wall, I imagined us going through. I stayed close to him, wrapping my arms around his neck, clinging on, clutching my thighs tightly against his hips ready to take everything he was willing to give.

  He picked me up, my legs still wrapped around his waist. The change of position made it more intense to the point that I wasn’t sure my limbs were connected to me anymore – they certainly weren’t working as they should. Ethan pushed my face towards the mirror now at the side of us, encouraging me to watch as he thrust himself manically, animalistic desire taking over and I was there. I was so there. The word orgasm didn’t cover it. This was a bomb detonating, a wave crashing, a tree falling. This was ecstasy and enchantment colliding together. I’d barely collected my breath as Ethan followed me. A loud, guttural moan escaping him, like he was launching away the pain of the last three years as he came. We connected together, my head fitting perfectly into the arch of his shoulder.

  I listened as his breathing calmed, felt his smile against my face and there he held me, just held me, unable or unwilling to put me down until finally, he spoke.

  ‘I’m never letting you go.’

  In the moment, his words meant everything yet didn’t matter at all. Because I could feel what was changing between us and that was all I needed to confirm I wanted him in my life more than letting him go because of something that happened a lifetime ago. Back before we had truly grown up or experienced anything of the world. We were still young with so much more to learn and discover about life and about each other.

  But I wanted to see where we were going, not obsess about where we had been.

  There was a saying I heard constantly after our relationship ended. Often by well-meaning family or worried friends who thought it was the right thing to say without truly understanding the meaning or scale of what it actually involved after hurt changed your composition. Forgive and forget. I didn’t agree then, and I still didn’t, even as I was holding Ethan, unwilling to lose him after feeling like we were threaded together again. Forgive and forget was not the right description of what we were finally doing. What we were doing was letting go. Releasing a weight that had held us back for so long, tied us down, made us miserable.

  And in this moment, we were setting each other free.

  Epilogue

  3 months later

  That promise he made as I started to regain consciousness after an orgasm that nearly shattered me? ‘I’m never letting you go.’ He stayed true to it. He hadn’t let me go since.

  ‘It’s tuna today. That OK?’ Mum passed me a tinfoil packet she had fashioned into what looked like a swan. I wafted a fly away, laughing as she ducked. English summertime had started to morph into autumn. I hadn’t noticed a difference yet. The weather was always unpredictable and today was no exception. Beautiful blue skies, a slight chill in the air. Perfection really.

  ‘Tuna would be sublime,’ I replied, trying hard but failing not to break the swan’s neck as I pulled it apart.

  ‘Nice view,’ mum said as she took a bite from her sandwich. I shook my head and broke into laughter at her deadpan delivery.

  She met me for lunch every Tuesday without fail. Weather permitting, the bench was still our little sanctuary for the hour before I had to get back to the phones and yes, she was right, the view had improved considerably.

  ‘Can you make it less obvious that you are ogling my boyfriend’s abs?’

  ‘How dare you! At this very moment I’m ogling his bum.’

  I followed her eyes to see Ethan squatting with a large kettle bell between his legs (no pun intended, honestly…) and the bum my mother was so happily viewing through her long-distance glasses was looking very fine indeed.

  ‘Can’t say I blame you,’ I replied.

  ‘How is he doing?’

  ‘Really well.’

  Ethan had just started his level-three personal training diploma. He had passed his fitness instructor certificate with flying colours and had never seemed more…alive. Mum said it was because of me, but I knew it was also because he was finally feeling fulfilled in his choice of career. Don’t get me wrong, he enjoyed stripping, but I discovered it was more of a means to an end for him. He was setting aside money with every job so that he could afford to take the qualifications and make his dream of becoming a personal trainer a reality.

  He carried on stripping after we made our relationship official. Obviously, it was a good source of income and something he was good at. I chose not to accompany him again to any jobs. I was still on the right side of acceptance and didn’t want to wobble the tightrope.

  We were taking things as slowly as you could when you had been soulmates for your whole life. Although, sometimes it felt like a rush and we took the sensible decision to pull on the reins and calm down the sprint. Ethan still had his flat back in Leicester and I stayed in mine, deciding that it made sense and gave us space when we needed it, which wasn’t often.

  Julia moved out after meeting a guy online and deciding to see where things could go between them. She understood that Ethan and I were more than just two people trying to rekindle a relationship. We were two people destined to be together, despite not always walking the same steps.

  Sadly, I haven’t heard from her since.

  When Ethan started studying for his qualification, he became friends with a guy who was running a
local gym and he offered Ethan some work experience under the guidance of another personal trainer. It was an offer too good to miss, although it cut his time for stripping. Not something I was upset about.

  Part of the offer of work experience included Ethan helping to co-lead a ‘bootcamp’ style training session every Tuesday lunchtime in the park (now you see the connection between Tuesdays and mum insisting she bring me lunch). The gym wanted to pilot something new, encourage new members to join, and to see if an outdoors lunchtime fitness session would take off. It had. Startlingly so. Although most of the participants appeared to be female…

  ‘You don’t fancy joining him for a workout? Work on your fitness levels?’ Mum asked. I didn’t like to tell her that watching him stretch was a workout in itself and that most nights, physical exertion was our preferred way of spending time together, preferably against the wall or in the shower and then on the kitchen table to round it all off.

  ‘My fitness levels are good, thanks.’

  Ethan walked over as I started gathering my things together, ready to go back to the office. He rubbed his tongue along his lower lip as he approached me, and memories of what that tongue had done to me that morning as we woke up from a haze of late-night sex and embarked on early-morning oral started to flood my senses.

  Oh, lord he creates a delicious sex tingle.

  ‘I’ve made up some sandwiches for you. Tuna salad. Low fat. Easy on the carbs,’ Mum said as she balanced her glasses on the top of her head. She liked looking after him almost as much as looking after me. ‘Carbs are the devil. I read it in one of your fitness books. I’ll lose the bread next week and just bring the contents in a Tupperware dish.’

  ‘Much appreciated, Lesley,’ he replied, kissing her on the cheek. I felt his hand skim my fingers softly as he stood behind me. ‘Can I walk you back?’ He always asked, despite the answer always being the same.

  Yes, and stay for the afternoon so I can sit on your lap like a swivel chair.

  ‘I’ll let your mum know you’re looking well. Not too thin. Very…muscly. Firm,’ Mum said, unintentionally grabbing her chest. He looked horrified and stuck up his thumb before pulling me away.

  ‘You have an admirer,’ I said, laughing.

  ‘It’s disturbing. Lesley was like a second mum growing up.’

  ‘Now she wants to sample your stripper moves.’ I stopped and dramatically clapped my hands together. ‘I could hire you for her birthday!’

  ‘Two words,’ he said, filling his hands with my bum cheeks. Squeezing. Heaven. ‘Withholding orgasms.’

  ‘Play fair,’ I replied.

  ‘I always do.’ The smirk played across his mouth, inviting the dimples to appear, and I was lost until he found me again. ‘Leave work early and come home with me.’

  ‘I can’t do that,’ I replied, breathy and languishing as I felt his lips against my neck. I could have sworn there was a button concealed behind my ear that he pressed with the tip of his tongue to release my arousal in surging quantities. ‘I have to work.’

  ‘Work is for conformists and you only conform for me.’ He found the line of my underwear through my trousers and pushed his finger against it. ‘I’ll ask you again. Come home with me?’

  I smiled against his mouth, kissed him harshly and pulled back. ‘You’re too tempting.’

  ‘Made a career out of it.’

  His finger traced further down, dangerously close to places that if he touched would make me forget the everyday things, like the necessity of working, and make me plough one of my breasts into his mouth. Ethan smiled, he had a habit of being able to read my thoughts. I wondered if it was because we had known each other for so long but always came back to the theory that in reality, he just got me. I squealed as he lifted me off the ground and whispered against my ear, ‘You’re my only pleasure. I want to strip for you. Release this fucking ache in my cock.’

  And oops went my sensibility.

  ‘Take me home. I’ll ring in sick. Just this once.’

  Ethan wrapped my legs around him, holding me in place with his hands, his thick cock straining for satisfaction. ‘Good girl. There’s nothing like a woman you love conforming.’

  ‘Bloody fuck. Take me home,’ I replied, rolling my eyes but knowing that when we did arrive there, I’d be on my knees and smiling before he even had time to lock the door.

  The end.

  Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this novella and would like to check out my other books you can do so here

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  Acknowledgments

  To JoAnn at Twin Tweaks Editing. Thank you for all your hard work on this book and your words of encouragement about my writing.

  To Ann Walker. Your passion and enthusiasm for my books amazes me. Thank you for your comments during the beta stages. Once again, you helped shine the story.

  To Dylan Allen. not only are you an amazing author but you can also make a great cover! You’re a woman of many talents. Thank you!

  To the readers. I couldn’t do this without you. Thanks for all your support.

  Special note for Holly Manning. I told you I’d use, ‘Root with a side of ball.’ Thanks for gracing the Cockateers with the best phrase ever.

  About the Author

  Lynsey M. Stewart enjoys writing stories about characters that experience a few bumps in the road before finding their happily ever after (also known as contemporary romance with plenty of heat…). She lives with her husband, her soulmate and muse, along with their gorgeous, precious, ridiculously independent little girl. Lynsey began writing after being inspired by great books, amazing writers and wonderful stories that she couldn’t stop thinking about long after reading the last word. If she’s not writing, you can usually find her with her head in a book or singing along to music. She’s hopeless, but she enjoys pretending to be Adele every once in a while.

  Find Lynsey on:

  www.lynseymstewart.com

  Email: authorlynseymstewart@outlook.com

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  Other books by the author

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  In her mission to find Mr Right, Elle inevitably stumbles across Mr Wrong. Following a chance encounter with a colleague, she decides to take the first steps…

  Luke Simms is funny, sexy and cocksure with as much baggage as the lost luggage department at Heathrow airport. He doesn’t do commitment, but he does offer Elle the experience she craves.

  Ben Newman is romantic, witty and drop-dead gorgeous. He is also chasing the fairy tale. But after a string of dating disasters, he’s ready to give up on the dream and end the search.

  Find out if Elle saves Luke Simms from his mission of self-destruct, or if she ends Ben Newman’s search for his fairy tale…

  myBook.to/Letmebeyourfirst

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  Let Me Be Your Hope: The Music and Letters Series: Book 2

  Abi Sinclair is a determined social worker and committed party girl. She’s independent, ballsy and living the single girls’ dream. But underneath the bravado and empty one-night stands, she’s hiding a broken heart…

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eel alive. When he left Nottingham two years ago to take care of his terminally ill mother, they agreed to communicate only by letter, both believing their love was meant to be.

  One regrettable lie forced them down very different paths.

  One rash decision forced them apart.

  But Jamie is back. And he’s Abi’s new manager. Only he’s a different man—too different.

  Desperate for answers, Abi won’t stop until she uncovers the truth behind Jamie’s two-year absence…

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  Let Me Be Your Truth: The Music and Letters Series: Book 3

  From the outside, Kate Roper has life all figured out—a career as a social worker, friends who love her, and a perfectly sensible relationship with a loyal but boring man. She has her life sorted neatly into boxes…until she meets Danny, a tortured artist with a troubled past. They say opposites attract, and Danny’s sexual confidence intrigues Kate. His tattoos enthrall her. He is everything she doesn’t think she needs, yet she craves what he has to offer.

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