“You like Catwoman giving you a blow job, baby?”
“Fuck yes!” he rasped as I felt him fall back against the door for support, his fingers sliding into my hair, until my curls were wrapped securely in his grip. “Suck Sully’s dick, Catwoman.”
I grinned at him, his voice incoherent with pleasure and booze, and although he couldn’t see me, he felt it around his cock. “You kinky bastard.”
He laughed but thrust his hips, sinking his cock further into my throat as his fingers tightened and his moans intensified. “Shut up and do what you do best.”
“Now is not the time to bake muffins Mason,” I scolded as I shook my head.
“Eh?” he murmured then tutted. “Not baking you daft sod, sucking.”
“Oh right,” I mumbled and giggled. “Sorry.”
He started to chuckle, then laugh and before long we were both hysterical, our stomachs hurting and our sides cramping. “Fuck, Ava. I fucking love you,” he boomed loudly.
“Shush,” I slapped at his leg and giggled with him. “It’s not my fault. It’s that damn coffee liqueur of Marcy’s. The bloody stuff is toxic to brain cells.”
“Uh-huh,” he scoffed. “Blame the liqueur, Ava.” His hands slid under my arms and he lifted me up. “Pull down those leggings, Catwoman. Sully needs into the pussy.”
I grinned to myself as I fiddled with my clothes, grumbling at how tight the damn trousers were to this costume, it was like trying to free a grape from its skin. Mason helped me when he realised I was struggling, his fingers curling into the waistband as he started to yank at them. “Oooh, someone’s eager” I laughed.
“Well, I would like to fuck you before Monsters Inc. 6 comes to the cinema.”
I laughed loudly, “Well Batman 12 is out in July and they need me, hurry up.”
He chuckled with me as he managed to roll them down to my hips then twirled me round so I was facing the door. “That’ll do,” he muttered as he grabbed my hands in the darkness and placed them on the door. “Now prepare to be invaded, Catwoman.”
I snorted loudly but sucked in a breath as his delicious cock slid inside me effortlessly. “Christ, you were horny. You’re bloody drenched.”
I nodded, unable to form words as pleasure curled around me, ending the need and bringing on the want. My fingers clawed at the door, the paint scraping under my fingernails and I cringed, Marcy would kill me.
I turned my head and peered into the darkness over my shoulder, “Fuck me Sully, bring out your inner monster.”
“I’m gonna make you purr, Catwoman.”
I frowned then smirked as I tried to hold in the giggle. “Purr? Fucking purr?”
“Well what the fuck else am I supposed to say? You’re a bloody cat, so yeah, purr.”
“Why the hell not,” I shrugged. “Okay, make me purr.”
And he did. I fucking purred like a kitten, his strokes in me hard and fucking glorious, and each one driving pleasure into every fibre of me. His furry costume tickled my back as his hands cupped my breasts beneath the silk of my top until he tugged at the strapless black Basque and yanked it below my boobs so he could caress the actual flesh, his fingers teasing my nipples as he continued to pound me into oblivion. My head was bouncing off the door with his merciless fucking, his growls as monstrous as his suit. His hands gripped my shoulders to pull me back onto him as he exploded inside me, his fingers digging into my neck deeply to bring on my own climax.
We both puffed and panted, trying to calm the rage flowing through our veins. “Fuck me,” Mason wheezed. “I’m bloody roasting.”
“Have you still got the hood on?” I asked in amazement.
“Well. Yeah, you wanted to fuck Sully didn’t you?”
I closed my eyes and sighed, “Bloody hell, Mason. I’m surprised you haven’t passed out!”
“Well, I do feel a bit light headed.”
I laughed at him as I fumbled around and pulled my leggings back up, sucking in my stomach to get them back into their original position. “You daft sod!”
We were still laughing as we sauntered down the stairs. I frowned as Mason said something and silence greeted us. Where was the music? The laughter and peoples chit chat?
I froze as everyone stood smirking at us, each pair of eyes in the room trained on me and Mason. “Umm.”
“What’s going on?” Mason asked me under his breath.
“I have no idea,” I whispered back.
Marcy walked towards us with a huge grin, her eyes laughing. My knees buckled when she lifted up a baby monitor, her tongue in her cheek as she waggled it at me. My eyes widened on her as Mason stiffened beside me. “Good job the kids are at my mothers, although I forgot to turn off the monitors.” She sucked on her lips then chuckled, “Now is not the time to bake muffins, Mason.” She mimicked.
My gaze shot around the room as murmurs of snorts and giggles echoed around us. “By the way,” Courtney shouted to me from the back of the room. “Batman 12 is out in June and I already secured us tickets.”
I groaned at the memory, Mason chuckling loudly beside me. “So funny,” he smirked as he tapped my nose.
“So embarrassing,” I rectified but chuckled with him.
“And for the record, green would now look good on you.”
I shook my head and put a hand on my blonde fluff, “Nope, ‘fraid not.”
He scowled at me when he sensed my embarrassment over my hair. “Hey,” he whispered when I gulped. “I like it. It’s soft and perfect.” His gaze was sad on me, his heart aching with mine as he felt my hatred at my looks. “And it’s growing really quickly, before you know it, it will be down to your chin.”
“But what if . . .”
He placed a finger over my lips, ceasing my worry. “We’ll deal with the what ifs after your results tomorrow.”
I nodded as the anxiety bubbled in my stomach. “It’s okay, Ava. Have faith.”
“Mmm,” I murmured, wishing I had as much confidence as my husband.
Mason
“Are you hungry yet?” I asked as I flicked through the TV channels, bored out of my tiny mind.
Ava quirked a brow at me and scowled, “Mason, go to work. I’m fine.”
“Uh-uh,” I muttered as I found a channel showing an old Top Gear and settled back against the headboard, pulling up a pillow to support the back of my head.
I frowned when I felt Ava looking at me. “What?” I asked as she stared at me.
“Top Gear?”
“What’s wrong with Top Gear?” I gawped at her in shock.
“I’m ill, Mason.”
“Eh? You said you were fine.”
She huffed at me, “Well, I’m too ill to watch Top Gear.”
I rolled my eyes and switched off the TV and turned to her. “Well, what would you like to do, my dear?”
She narrowed her eyes on me, “Are you being derisive?”
“Nope.”
She scrutinised me sceptically then sighed, “I dunno. Talk to me.”
“Talk?” I tapped my fingers on my knee as my gaze roamed the room looking for something to talk about. “What do you want to talk about, Ava?”
“I dunno,” she barked.
I jerked at her tone and stared at her, “Well you wanted to talk.”
“Yes, I know but . . . but I don’t know what about. Think of something yourself.”
Okay, was she for real? She wanted to talk but it was up to me to find a subject. “Umm. . . .”
We both chewed on our lips, sighed, pouted, tipped our heads and clicked our tongues as we tried to think of something to talk about. “Oooh I know,” she cried out excitedly. “What’s been the best day of your life?”
“Oooh well, you know that week when my horse came in second and I won. . . .” I paused as she stared at me. “No?”
She shook her head slowly, causing me to nod as slowly in reply. “Umm, ooh, ooh it was when you made that rhubarb strudel and Greg got ill.” I started laughing loudly, picturing how gre
en he had gone as his hands gripped at his stomach. “Christ, that was funny shit, I’ve never seen anyone . . .” I rolled my lips and smiled at her, “The twins?”
She grinned at me, slapping my arm when she realised I was messing with her. “Yeah,” she whispered. “The day the twins were born.”
Tolerance
She’d been under for so long it was getting difficult to breathe. I glanced at my watch again, three hours, three damn hours. The coffee in the place had started to curdle in my stomach, the acid eating at it furiously and burning up whatever I had left in there.
I squeezed my eyes closed when the vision of all the blood flowed into my mind again. Bloody hell, I had never seen so much. And her scream!
I traipsed the corridors again, for what seemed like the fiftieth time, trying to draw my attention away from just waiting. I studied each replica painting that adorned the scuffed walls, I pressed the footplate on each bin I passed just staring as the lid popped up and down. I even mended a broken drinking fountain when I found it didn’t work.
I was slowly going crazy.
My feet came to a stop outside a small door. My eyes narrowed on the ‘chapel’ sign. I hadn’t been to church since my mother dragged me to midnight mass one year on Christmas Eve.
I placed my palm on the door, hesitating and checking to see if anyone was around but gave in and pushed, the scent of lemon polish and wood hitting me as soon as I stepped in.
Each pine pew led the way towards a long table decorated with candles and a small cross to which a figure of Jesus was attached. My eyes roamed the empty room as my feet led me through the centre of the rows. There was one single window, a colourful image of a saint I didn’t recognise spreading rainbows across the small room, each painted ray being soaked up by the wooden seats. Colourful red drapes hung from the walls as various crosses of different shapes and sizes littered the walls.
I stopped when I realised I had reached the table, Jesus now staring at me. I frowned at the garland of thorns wrapped around his head. “That must hurt, huh?” He didn’t answer me, but I guessed I’d have passed out with that offering. “Hi,” I smiled, feeling myself blush at him. “How are you?”
I know! I know! But what were you supposed to say to Jesus? It’s quite a difficult task actually.
I nodded when he didn’t answer and let my eyes rove the room again. “Quite a nice place you have here, quite . . . homely.”
I strolled over to the front bench and settled myself down, crossing one leg over my knee and brushing off a piece of fluff that had attached to the crappy material of my trousers. I’d never buy that brand again, cheap shit.
“So,” I sighed and smiled back at Jesus. “I suppose you know who I am . . . do you know who I am?” I rolled my eyes and tutted, “Of course you do. You know everyone.”
I placed my palms on the seat either side of me and rocked forward and backwards slightly. “My . . . girlfriend—sorry were not married . . . YET! Yet.” I nodded to him, my eyes looking at the ceiling hoping I wouldn’t suddenly be smited for ‘fornicating’ before marriage. “Well she’s . . . they’re operating on her. She’s . . . well, she’s not doing so well.” I smiled at him and shrugged. “She’s having my babies.” I nodded excitedly, it was good to share my delight instead of sat holding in my despair. “Twins, we’re having twins.”
The smile slipped from my face and I looked at him for a while. “I umm, I’d be kind of . . . umm, well I wondered if you could . . . you know . . . make sure they’re okay and all that . . . if that’s okay, if you don’t mind, and umm . . . well I . . .”
I blew out a breath to settle myself. “Women, eh? Always causing trouble, bloody . . . oh shit, sorry, I shouldn’t swear . . . Ava’s always causing trouble.” I rolled my eyes exaggeratedly but smiled. “But she’s . . . she’s kind of really lovely. I think you’d like her. She’s fun and pretty, yeah really pretty. She makes me laugh, she makes me feel good about myself too . . . and with me, well that takes a lot . . . As you’d know.”
I stood up when the wood started to ache my backside and strolled around the room, nosing at all the different candles that were piled high in each corner. “What is it with you and candles?” I asked him as I picked one up and lit it from another, placing it back on the little plate as I thought of Ava. “I mean, I never quite understood why all the candle stuff. I’m sure you wouldn’t want anyone setting your cross on fire, that shit wouldn’t be good for you.”
I spun round towards him and held up my hand, “No offence like, I . . . oh Christ . . . umm, that wasn’t taking your name in vain by the way, just a slip, I’m sorry . . .” I sighed and slumped back onto the bench. “I’m sorry I’m not really doing a good job of this am I? What I’m trying to say is, well if you could . . . you know, help get Ava through this. She will be the most amazing mum cos’ she’s the most amazing person I know. She’s caring and funny, thoughtful and beautiful and she’s . . . she puts up with my shit, and believe me, there’s lots of it.” I snorted, “Of course you know. Well,” I stood up and nodded to him, “I better get back. You never know, this time there might be some news.”
I pushed open the door then turned back to him, “Wish me luck, I’m about to become a dad to two babies, me and Ava never do things by half.” I rolled my eyes and left, smiling at the possibility of a new friend. And let’s face it, with Jesus on your side, you can’t go far wrong.
* * *
I stared at them. Both of them. Two amazing little bundles. One pink. One blue. I was scared to even look at them through the plastic bubble thing they were both laid in, each of them attached to numerous bloody pipes and wires.
My daughter had the most vivid mop of orange curls ever, causing my breath to still in my lungs. She was already as beautiful as her mother, heart-stoppingly so. And the blue one, well what could I say but the lucky little bugger had got all my genes, he was utterly the most handsome little thing in the world.
But they were both so tiny, so fragile and little. I was terrified of them.
“They’re both doing well,” a nurse said as she smiled widely at me. “Both are good and strong. They’ll be home before you know it.”
I nodded to her, “I hope so.”
She fiddled with some buttons and scribbled something down on the clipboard before she lifted her face to me again. “Life’s scary right now, huh?”
I pulled in a breath and nodded, “Yes. Very.”
She nodded and patted my shoulder, “Give it another eighteen years, love. It gets even bloody scarier.”
I quirked an eyebrow at her. Daft woman. How could life get any scarier than what it was then, with two premature babies using tubes to breathe?
Fuck me! How right she had been!
Ava
“I’m bored.”
Mason nodded but then turned to look at me. My eyes widened on him when a wicked smile rose on his lips. “We could always find something to do, baby.”
He rolled over towards me, propping himself up on an elbow as a hand slid across the front of my throat and then round the back of my neck so he could cup the nape and pull me towards him. I sighed dreamily when his lips brushed across mine delicately, his warm breath teasing but comforting. “I missed you,” he whispered as his kisses travelled across my jaw and then started dampening a trail down my neck.
“Mmm, and you,” I breathed, my body lighting up instantly as he slid his hand around to hold the side of my head.
He was gentle as he slid the strap of my nightdress over my bad shoulder. His mouth followed it, his tongue sneaking out to taste me as his lips grazed my skin. “You’ve always had beautiful soft skin, Ava.”
His caresses were now whispering over the dressing covering my wound as he made his way towards my chest. “Mason . . .” I murmured as panic started to coil my stomach.
“Sshhh,” he whispered, blowing heat across the goose bumps that had risen on my skin, nerves filling me with fear as each hair on my body raised in preparation to ap
proaching horror.
I started to wiggle underneath him as my body started to tremble. “Mason, please.”
“Ava, shush . . .”
“No.” I slid away from him, pulling up the strap to swiftly cover myself.
He stared at me and sighed, “Baby . . .”
I shook my head and slipped my legs out of bed, grimacing at the pain that shot through my shoulder when I moved too quickly. “I’m hungry. Are you hungry,” I rambled as I stood and slipped my slipper boots onto my feet. “Sandwich?” I asked as I spun round to him.
His eyes slid over me, from my boots and up until he met my eyes, and then back down again. The corner of his lips twitched in humour before he chuckled. “Fuck, baby. You are so damn sexy.”
I frowned and looked down. I giggled at the state of me. I was in my comfiest but sexiest negligee, the black and white lace was delicate and chic, the split up to my thigh very daring but modest and the straps elegant ribbons of dainty black silk. And then came the thick bright blue fur boots and the great big whacking bandage covering my shoulder.
He slid off the bed and cocked his head at me. “Do you even realise how beautiful you are?”
I knew where he was heading. I just shrugged and smiled faintly, “Yeah. Now, do you want chicken or beef?”
“Ava . . .” he grumbled as I walked off, holding my arm in place with a hand on my elbow as I made my way towards the kitchen.
I flicked the kettle on and started rummaging through the fridge, pulling out lots of different foods. “We have salad, or just pickles. Or there’s cheese if you don’t want meat.”
“Ava . . .”
“There’s scones if you don’t want a sandwich. Or maybe something sweet . . .”
“God damn it, Ava.” He cried, “Look at me.”
I bit into my lip as I furrowed even further into the back of the fridge, extracting jams and chutneys that were well out of date. “This fridge needs a damn good clean . . .”
“AVA!” he roared. The jar I was holding slipped from my hand and smashed at my feet, masses of plum chutney covering my feet and spreading in a circle on the floor around me. “Bloody hell,” he cursed as he rushed and crouched in front of me, picking up the bulk of broken glass.
The NSC Boxset: Heart of Stone Page 228
