It was a false sanctuary, though, it couldn't keep me safe from facing Fletch forever. Besides, I told myself firmly, it was the girl I'd first seen in the mirror that belonged in this room, the girl with the frightened eyes and the daddy issues, and I was not her.
As usual, it was the thought of what I didn't want to be that forced me to take action, and I slid back the bolt from the door and re-emerged out into Fletch and Daz's flat. Through the windows that faced the steps leading down to their front door, I could see the sky lightening slightly; dawn was approaching. It was a reassuring sight and gave me the boost I needed to make my way back to Fletch's room.
I'd hoped he would've stayed asleep and my disappearance would've gone unnoticed, but it was too much to expect. Fletch'd switched on the lamp on his bedside table sometime during my absence and, by its warm glow, I saw that he was wide awake, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. He turned his head slowly as I came in, however, and then hitched himself upright in an instant, staring at me like I was some sort of ghost.
"I thought you'd gone," he said hoarsely and, for a moment, I stared back at him in bewilderment, no idea what he was talking about.
Another moment passed and I found myself blindsided again as I realised his assumption was entirely reasonable. It was my car he'd driven here after all, the keys probably wouldn't have been too difficult to hunt out, but despite my reluctance to leave the bathroom and return to face Fletch, I hadn't given leaving even a split second of thought. Considering how rabid I'd been about escaping my mum's house not that long ago, it was strange to realise how thoroughly my urge to flee had disappeared.
"Right," I nodded slowly to show I understood and then added, fairly redundantly, "no."
He didn't seem to have heard me, his eyes were busy raking over my face and I forced myself to stand still and let him examine me. I owed him that at least, and it wasn't as if I was anywhere near as exposed now as I'd been at that bloody intersection. He wouldn't have seen me without make-up before, though, and I couldn't help but assume that he would find me lacking now; pale and unpainted.
A few seconds passed, then, making no comment about my wan face, he asked quietly, "You doing alright?"
I crossed my arms awkwardly over my chest and shrugged. "I haven't decided yet."
"Fair enough." There was no censure in his voice, no pressure to provide a more definitive answer, and my arms dropped immediately back down to my side as a wave of appreciation hit me so hard I swayed on my feet.
"Tell you what," I said thickly, reaching down and pulling the soft t-shirt up and over my head, "I reckon you could help me settle it one way or another."
I saw his eyebrows rise slightly, but didn't allow him time to comment, as clad only in my underwear, I crossed the room and climbed up onto the mattress with him. Placing my hands on his broad shoulders, I used them as support as I straddled him, lowering myself down until I felt his blessed heat pulsing against every centimetre of me, even through his clothes.
Wondering how on earth I'd thought a dirty, cold bathroom provided more sanctuary than Fletch, I bent my head to kiss him, only for him to put a repressive hand on my shoulder, holding me back.
"Babe, you don't want-" he started to protest, but I cut him off.
"Yes, I do," I breathed quickly. "I really do." When he still hesitated, I traced a finger down the side of his tense jaw and whispered, "Please, Fletch."
He still didn't look exactly convinced, but when I leant forward again to press my mouth to his, he didn't stop me. I could still feel his reluctance, though, even as something in my core screamed right, so I took my time kissing him; pulling and sucking and coaxing a reaction from him, daring him to deny me.
It took longer than I would've liked, but eventually, I felt the tension leave his body and then his knees rose up slightly behind me, his thighs rocking me forward so our hips slotted naturally together. I let out a little hum of approval at this repositioning and Fletch's fingers tightened against my waist in response.
The tingle of heat I'd felt as the water in the shower had damn near burnt my skin raw was nothing but a mild tickle compared to how I felt then. Exultant at my success, I began to quickly work at the buttons on the grey shirt Fletch'd worn to the memorial, wanting to rid him of his clothing, and the both of us of any reminder of what had gone down the day before. When the last button was undone, I pushed aside the fabric and spread my palms against his abdomen. As I gently sank my teeth into his lower lip and tugged on it, I could feel his muscles contract beneath my hands and smirked to myself. As far as action and reaction went, this sure as hell beat a damn pedestrian light.
Fletch clearly felt the same because I could feel his erection pushing up beneath me, precisely following the line of me, and I slowly rubbed against it. It felt good, but I knew it could feel better so I reached down to pull at the buckle of the belt fitted snugly around the top of his jeans. I'd barely touched the clasp, however, when Fletch reached for my hands, linking his fingers through mine and pulling them back up near his shoulders. As I went to protest, he began trailing hot kisses across my jaw and down my neck.
Comprehensively silenced, I arched my head back, offering him greater access to the sensitive skin at my throat. He took full advantage of this permission, grazing his teeth lightly across my neck in a way that made me shiver and tug at the hands still tightly clasped in his. I wanted to feel him naked beneath me, I wanted him inside me, but his fingers closed even tighter around mine, stopping me from reaching for his belt again.
As his mouth moved to the juncture of my neck and shoulders and he bit down on the sweet spot he found there, however, I started to realise that we were going somewhere I'd always been so careful to avoid in the past. With each slide of his tongue and each gentle upward thrust of his hips he seduced me, pushing away the concept of sex and introducing the impression of making lo-
I wrenched my hands out of his grip with one swift yank, and lifted myself slightly off his lap so I could grab at his belt buckle again.
"Get a condom," I instructed him firmly, but far from leaping to obey, he relaxed back down into his pillows instead, watching me carefully.
"Did you hear me?" I asked, avoiding his gaze as I finally released the buckle and moved to undo the fly on his jeans.
"I heard you," he replied calmly.
"And?" I stopped fumbling at his waistband and looked up at him, a rookie mistake I wished immediately I could take back. He was giving me that look again, the one that said he knew me, inside and out, and that my bluster was fooling absolutely no-one.
"And I think you need to slow down."
"I don't need to slow down," I disagreed in an attempt at haughty, "you need to speed up. You're the one behind here." I gestured pointedly down at my near-nakedness compared to his. Unfortunately he took my words as a different invitation to the one I'd intended and lowered his eyes to drag them across every last centimetre of the exposed skin I'd presented to him.
I felt goosebumps rise in a ripple following the trail of his gaze, every last nerve ending tightening in response to his slow perusal. It was if he was trying to memorise my pattern, to store away every curve and swell of me. I wasn't used to this sort of scrutiny; it wasn't cold or lascivious so I wasn't sure what I should do with it.
"Come on," I muttered as my heart started to beat faster with anxiety, "get on with it."
His eyes narrowed and then, with a suddenness that made me release a breathy gasp of surprise, he wrapped an arm around my waist and rolled us over so that my back was against the mattress, with him propped above me.
I'd barely adjusted to this position reversal when he ran a finger along my collarbone and asked seriously, "You got somewhere to be, babe?"
"No, it's just-" I started to say, stopping abruptly as he murmured,
"So let me..." and lowered his head to press his mouth, hot and open, against one of my sheer bra cups.
I jerked at the sensation and then almost jack-knifed as his
hand rose to cup my other breast, his thumb flicking across the nipple protruding stiffly up against the fabric encasing it. It was a foreign stimulation, the sort of foreplay I'd never allowed before, and my body didn't seem to know how to handle it. My fingers clutched at his hair, caught between wanting to press him closer and pull him back, and ending up doing neither.
I made a little noise at the back of my throat that rose rapidly in pitch as he swiftly tugged my bra aside and bit down gently on the bundle of nerve endings topping my right breast whilst simultaneously rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger. Although his body effectively pinned me to the bed, my hips undulated up against his, and my calves wound around his legs, sliding back and forth in the same rhythm as his suckling. Even pressed against the whole length of Fletch, I couldn't get enough of the feel of him; the boy really was a lesson in the beauty of anatomy.
It wasn't his anatomy that seemed to be the main focus at that point, however, as Fletch started to kiss his way down my stomach, stopping briefly to dip his tongue into my belly button, and then continuing down. Hooking his fingers into the burgundy lace of my knickers, he slowly pulled them down my legs, settling back onto his haunches as he guided them over first one foot, then the other, pressing a kiss to each instep as he went.
It didn't take a genius to figure out what he was planning next, but it didn't click for me until his breath was hot against my inner thigh and his elbows pressed into my knees, opening me to him. He was going to-
"Don't," I blurted out reflexively and he immediately withdrew, sitting back and looking up at me in concern.
"Talk to me, Lara," he said softly after a moment, obviously reading the panic written all over my face. "What's the problem?"
"No problem," I said uncomfortably, hitching myself up onto my elbows and brushing my fringe out of my eyes. "I just...I haven't..." And there it was, the inexperience that had driven me into Brock Baines' arms all those years ago laid bare in front of Fletch anyway. The slut too bashful to let a guy go down on her.
I could see he understood what I meant, but he didn't pull away like I expected him to. Instead, he ran a hand soothingly up and down my calf as he murmured, "I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to, you trust me on that?"
I nodded.
"OK, so we'll take it slow." Fletch blew out a long breath and then leant up and kissed me again, long and deep until the heat that had been dampened by my sudden recoil was stoked hot once more.
After a few minutes had passed, he ran a hand back down the length of my body as his mouth rocked over mine, until I felt him stroking the top of my thigh, requesting entrance into the area previously denied him.
"Is this OK?" He asked against my lips, and I couldn't find even the slightest hint of condescension or mocking in his tone at my obvious lack of expertise.
As I considered his question, he continued to gently explore my skin, as if he would have been quite content to continue these tender caresses with no expectation of more, if that's what I wanted. It wasn't what I wanted, though, I realised with a sudden blinding clarity. In fact, as far as leaps of faith went, this one seemed well worth taking. So, as his fingers skimmed lower once more, I widened my legs for him, a tacit permission to explore further. He took it without hesitation, dipping down into my folds in a way that made me bow upwards.
At first he swallowed my breathy little pants into his mouth as his finger traced my soft whorls, but then I found myself staring at the ceiling as he drew his lips from mine and started kissing his way back down my body. Thus it was my own lip I had to bite down on when he sucked a nipple once again into his mouth, a sensation that, combined with his gentle exploration further down, made my fists clench into his bedclothes.
"You alright with this?" I heard him ask as he raised his head to look at me, his index finger pressed lightly against my opening.
There was no thought of hesitation this time. "Yes," I hissed, and he pushed forward, past the ring of muscle and beyond. My toes curled and I lifted myself slightly off the mattress, my whole body alive with sensation.
His mouth left my breast, the areola puckering into tight ridges as the cool air brushed my damp skin, and started a downward journey again. His kisses traced my ribcage, sank into the dip of my waist and then spread over the flare of my hip; a journey of worship that left my cheeks feeling hot in a way that I doubted even the kinkiest of moves would’ve been able to elicit.
"And this?" A second finger stroked at my entrance and my response in the affirmative was higher-pitched than the first, but just as fervent.
"How about-?" I felt his breath hot against me again and knew he was back where I'd freaked out previously. Before he'd had time to even fully ask the question, I panted,
"Yes!"
The second his mouth touched against the sweet spot between my thighs, I came, bucking under him and gaping soundlessly in surprise.
I was hardly an innocent when it came to such things, but even I couldn't fathom the speed and intensity of the climax, especially since neither Fletch nor I seemed to be finished. No, far from moving away, Fletch was continuing to move his fingers slowly in and out of me and pressing kisses along the insides of my thighs, and I could already feel a second wave building low in my pelvis.
All it took was for him to crook his fingers up into the g-spot I hadn't even known I'd had and I went off again, shutting my eyes tight and seeing fireworks going off beneath my lids. How he'd known my first orgasm had just been a prelude to the second when even I hadn't known it was a mystery, but I wasn't exactly in the frame of mind to give it much thought. I just rode through it; the fluttering, clenching sensation more prolonged than the first, heightened rather than reduced by the orgasm I'd already experienced a few moments before.
As the last flicker faded away, leaving me bathed in a muted glow of satisfaction, Fletch pressed one last kiss to the inside of my knee and then rejoined me at the head of the bed. We lay in easy silence for a few seconds as I slowly brought my breathing back under control and Fletch presumably congratulated himself on a job well done. When I finally felt a bit more like I was back on Earth rather than spinning off somewhere near Jupiter, I rolled to face him.
"You've got too many clothes on," I advised him; an observation made not because I felt self-conscious about my nakedness compared to his, but because I wanted to see all of him.
I watched with a sort of dreamy approval as he obligingly slipped his arms out of his shirt and then finished the job I'd started on his jeans. I knew he was watching me watching him, but my admiration as he was fully revealed wasn't feigned for his ego. He truly was magnificent.
It was my turn to do some body-mapping of my own and I relished in it. The story of his life was presented in his nakedness; in every tan line, scar, dip and furrow that contrasted his male form from my own, and I read it thoroughly.
Eventually, however, there was no denying the star of the show, its turgid length straining against his stomach. I reached for it, closing my fist around the base and giving him a couple of slow, firm strokes before asking, "So, you getting that condom or what?"
Fletch seemed to have trouble understanding what I'd said for a moment, my ministrations apparently addling his brains as much as his clever fingers had with me. Eventually catching on, however, he wrapped his hand around mine, holding me still for a moment as he looked at me in surprise. "You think you've got another go in you?" He asked, and I shrugged.
"I'm game to find out if you are."
It was a lie, I could no more reach another climax than I could run a marathon at that stage, but that wasn't the point. Fletch hadn't had his release and I still craved the feel of him inside me. So, when he finally procured a square foil packet out of a drawer by his bed, I rolled it down for him and then lay back in invitation.
He willingly took what I offered him, gently lifting my legs up around his hips and then pushing forward, filling me completely. My lids drooped and I gazed up at him in a daze, watchin
g as his hips rocked against mine in a slow, precise rhythm. There was no rush, no tension, just a delicious feeling of fullness.
Several languid minutes passed, our movements synchronised, our gazes locked, and then, through the legs wrapped around him, I felt the muscles in his back tense. He was close. To help him along I tilted my hips to take him in that little bit deeper and reached up to drag my fingernails across the shoulders that I loved so much. The response was immediate, he dropped his head down to press a fierce kiss to my mouth and then I felt him pulse between my thighs.
I held him to me for another minute or so, not quite ready to release him, but eventually, I saw his arms start to shake from holding himself still above me, and I reluctantly lessened my grip on him. He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead, and then rolled down on the mattress beside me, looking completely spent. I knew the feeling.
Fully satiated, and confident that Fletch was too, I barely had time to register his arm wrapping securely around my waist before I blacked out into a deep, dreamless sleep.
----------
"Mate, serious question, did you get up in the middle of the night and clean the-?"
Fletch was jerked awake what felt like only seconds after falling asleep by his flatmate barging into his room, his voice loud as a foghorn. Fletch lifted his head and shot him a blearily furious look and Daz froze in the doorway. It wasn't his mate's glare that looked to have silenced him, however, as his gaze was now locked on Lara lying tucked up under Fletch's arm and it was clearly her presence that had rendered him momentarily speechless.
His eyes narrowed contemptuously, but he did at least lower the volume as he added curtly, "Jai's here, you coming surfing or what?"
Fletch gestured down at Lara's curled form in a 'what do you think?' sort of way and Daz let out a dismissive grunt and stormed back out.
Fletch lay still for a few seconds, straining to detect any indication from his bedfellow that she'd been woken by his idiot mate. There wasn't any change in her deep breathing and motionless form, however, and he suspected that, after the full on nature of the previous day, her body had effectively gone into shut down mode. He counted on this being the case as he slowly withdrew his grip on her soft warmth and slid off the edge of the mattress.
The Do-Gooder Page 23
