An icy cold fear floods my veins in response to her words and I visibly shiver. Could he be playing me? For all his soft loving words, could I just be another notch on his bedpost? Have I just made a terrible mistake? She has no idea how much I too hope Chris’s intentions are pure.
“But he’s told me that he’s sincere, so I have to believe him - and you.” She turns and eyeballs me. “I hope that your intentions are also sincere, Victoria. I consider you family, but he’s my blood. You get that, don’t you?” I sense she’s giving me a warning. If I ever cause him pain, I know whose side she’ll be on. “You both seemed to have jumped in with both feet without thinking.”
I link my arm through hers as we continue to walk in step. “I understand, Mel, honestly I do. And I can’t deny that this hasn’t been some long drawn out courtship before we’ve ended up in bed together. But honestly Mel, I think your brother is fab. He’s swept me off my feet and it feels amazing. I’m so happy… please be happy for me.”
“What other choice do I have?” She pats my hand, reassuring me. “You’re my friend and I love you. He’s my cheeky younger brother and I love him too. Personally, I would never have put you two together, but they say opposites attract, so who am I to judge?” She turns to me and smiles. It’s the closest I’m going to get to an endorsement and I’m content. “Speak of the devil,” she says as Chris comes to link arms with her on her other side.
“Hey, sis. What are you two girls yakking about?”
“Oh, this and that,” she says nonchalantly. “I know your ego would love me to say that we were talking about you, but there are so many more important things to talk about than boys, you know.”
“Yeah, right. That’s all you girls ever talk about,” he laughs cheekily.
“Yeah, when we were ten years old, maybe.”
He’s clearly not buying his sister’s explanation, but also isn’t bothered. His easy demeanour remains unflappable. “Come on let’s catch everyone else up.” He quickens the pace, forcing the three of us to break into a slow jog to catch up with Michelle, David and Lynne who are all laden with picnic gear.
Once on Tooting Common, we pick a spot, spread out our picnic rugs, strip down to our togs, lie back and enjoy the sunshine. Clearly Michelle and David are deeply in love. He’s a very quiet guy who doesn’t say a lot. Highly intelligent, he’s more comfortable talking to Michelle than openly with the whole group, so as they chatter away together, the rest of us talk easily amongst ourselves.
Being openly affectionate with Chris feels completely different than when Jeremy wanted to hold my hand or kiss me in public. I would do anything to avoid a PDA with Jeremy, whereas the more affection Chris shows me, the more comfortable and relaxed I feel. He makes sure I’m never more than an arm’s length away and we lie snuggled together on one of the rugs, both on our backs, faces looking up to the sun, my head lying on his chest as we play with each other’s fingers whilst chatting away to his Mum and Mel.
As the temperature continues to rise, Chris and I head over to the pool to cool off, leaving the others to finish off the food. It’s no surprise to discover he’s a strong swimmer and he knocks out a few confident lengths of front crawl as I attempt a graceful swan-like breaststroke behind him. We meet again in the shallow end, holding hands under the water as he turns towards me and beams.
“I’m so happy, Vicky. Are you? Although I can’t quite believe how much has changed in the past 48 hours.”
“Yes, I am,” I gently touch his face with the back of my fingers, exactly how I wanted to the very first night when I watched him sleeping peacefully on our sofa. “Although, like you, my brain is still adjusting. A lot of shit has gone down this weekend. Three days ago you were still in Greece. I was with Jeremy, and you were just Michelle and Mel’s little brother visiting to ‘do Europe’ over the summer. Now look at us. I suppose on one level you’ve succeeded in doing Europe,” I snigger.
I don’t want to break the spell, but my mind wants to ask all the unanswered questions. How is this going to work when we get back to Wootton Bassett? Does Mel and I’s little cosy twosome automatically become some weird cohabiting threesome? How difficult would that be for her? One day her brother is sleeping on the sofa, the next he’s sharing her house-mate’s bed. Does he want to carry on travelling in the time he has left before returning to his homeland, which I assume he will and how do I feel about that? Surely if my time with him is limited I want him to spend as much of it with me or does he want to charge ahead full steam into a full-on relationship and effectively set up home together? Which seems like a heck of a commitment after only one weekend of shared passion. I’ve also got a full-time job to consider, so how can I expect him to sit around all day like a good little househusband waiting for me to come in from work. I sense that would drive him crazy, like a caged animal who would eventually go mad.
“I am worried though, Chris. You have to admit that both the speed at which we’ve got together and the circumstances that surround us are anything but perfect. What chance do we have of making this work? Perhaps we would be better to nip things in the bud before we get in any deeper?”
“But, that’s where you’re wrong, Vicky, when has anything worthwhile ever been easy?” He floats around in the water so that he’s in front of me now. My back against the side of the pool as he straddles the space in front of my body, arms locked onto the lip of the pool on either side of me caging me in. “I’m a man who goes after what he wants, and I don’t care about how complicated or difficult this is going to be, I know what I want and it’s you… even if I wanted to I’m already in too deep to ever consider backing out now,” and as if to prove his point, he leans forward and kisses me passionately.
The multitude of questions in my head are still unanswered, but I consciously block them out as I lose myself in the moment. I’ve never felt so desired in all my life and just as I did last night and the night before I surrender to his touch, to his desire, to his masculine power and vow to stay present in the moment, worrying about how all the other stuff will work itself out later. We only stop when a lifeguard blows his whistle and reminds us of their low tolerance to public displays of affection, making us remember where we are.
***
We’re standing naked, facing each other as the moonlight streams through the window highlighting Chris’s chiselled cheekbones and strong powerful shoulders. It’s a couple of days since we hung out at the lido. As he suggested, that evening he came back with us, and Mel and I returned to work the next day while he hung out at home and we haven’t talked about plans much further ahead than this coming weekend. We’re definitely still living in the moment, and so far, the three of us have casually hung out each evening which has been much easier than I’d expected. I think Melanie is enjoying having her brother around, even if I’m the main reason he’s staying in Wootton Bassett. So far, she appears to be cool with it.
Being nude is not something I’ve ever really been comfortable with. Not that I think there is anything particularly wrong with my body, but it’s just not something I’ve ever been happy with, even now as a young woman. From as early as I can remember, I’ve never wandered round, even in the privacy of my own bedroom, butt naked. As soon as I would have dried off from the shower or bath I would put my knickers on, followed immediately by my bra, or as a child, a vest. It just never felt right to be without underwear. I suppose unconsciously it was another way of attempting to protect myself.
So standing here in front of him in the luminescent moonlight, totally exposed, feels embarrassing and uncomfortably vulnerable. My urge is to grab the towel once again to cover my body, or at least cover myself as best I can with my hands, but somehow his gaze and the soft movement of his fingers stroking the outsides of my arms, holds me still and I allow myself to trust him in this moment.
I’ve just stepped out of the shower and rather than dive under the covers as I would do normally, Chris already naked, walked purposefully towards me until he was st
ood directly in front of me. Very slowly and in revered silence he peeled the towel from my body, allowing it to drop to the floor behind me. He grips my shoulders holding me at arm’s length as he looks directly into my eyes saying softly, “God, Vicky, you are so beautiful.”
“Really?” I reply, shrugging his comment away and dropping my eyes to the floor. “I don’t think I am.”
Tall and lanky as a teenager, I never developed a decent ‘rack’ which didn’t help my already low body confidence. In addition to my inept social development around boys as a teenager, this only added to my continued falling self-confidence. My lack of a bust is something that has bothered me all my life. No amount of ‘but you’re fine as you are’ or ‘trust me big boobs are just a hassle’ from friends or family actually did anything to change the feelings of inadequacy that I have about my own body.
I was a classic late developer, emotionally as well as physically. When all the other girls in class were wearing bras, getting their period and talking about boyfriends, I was still wearing vests. I was well into my late teens before I had my first menstruation or had developed enough up top to warrant the support of even a training bra. I did however develop curves in the lower part of my body, so now I’m the shape of a classic English Pear. Small rounded breasts, a small waist that flairs out to a full bottom and heavy thighs. I feel anything but beautiful.
His body however is gorgeous. He’s obviously grown up living an active and outdoor lifestyle. A few inches taller than I, strong muscular shoulders lead down to a smooth and tanned chest. He doesn’t have a harsh overly developed six-pack like someone who spends half their life in the gym chained to a machine, rather a toned ironing-board flat stomach with just the right amount of definition, which is clearly reflective of the outdoor sports he’s obviously participated in all his life. A slim line of soft dark hair leads tantalisingly down from his navel over his flat stomach to slim hips, strong muscular legs and a fabulously squeezable pert behind. I try not to look at his magnificent cock which gives away his obvious desire.
From his deep tan, topped up by his recent trip to Greece, it’s clear Chris has spent most of his life living in shorts. He has a deeply tanned chest, arms, shoulders, legs and a contrasting lilywhite bottom. This is the first time I’ve properly seen his body in all its glory even though I’ve felt parts of it under the covers over the past few days and in shorts and t-shirt at the lido, but this is the first time I’ve studied him fully naked and I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a handsome specimen of a man. My initial thoughts of liking him to a Greek God at our first meeting are justifiably confirmed. I’m in awe of his strong and beautiful masculine body, which only heightens the feelings of deficiency for my own female form as I stand in front of him fully naked and completely exposed.
Very slowly he turns me around to face away from him. Moving my still damp hair away from my neck with his right hand, he kisses me lightly on my left shoulder. Using the tip of his tongue he gently traces the curve of my shoulder up into the nape of my neck. I breathe in the contrasting sensations, the hotness of his breath and the wetness of his tongue on my skin as he kisses me again just below my left ear.
“Oh, yes you are,” he whispers.
I feel myself begin to soften ever so slightly, the tension I was unconsciously holding in my shoulders draining away as they drop slightly. Gradually and calmly I sense Chris kneel quietly on the floor behind me, his hands moving slowly down the front of my body, lightly tracing my curves with his fingers, softly cupping my breasts and momentarily stroking my nipples, causing me to inhale sharply, filling my lungs with air. His touch sends a fire bolt of desire down my body to between my legs. His fingers continue to float down over my flat belly before coming to rest on the outsides of my curvaceous thighs.
He gently kisses, first my ample right bum cheek, then my left, before slowly turning me around so once again we are facing each other. He reaches his hands up behind me, tracing the outline of my shoulder blades, down my spine before they rest once again on my hips. It’s as if he’s making a map of my body wanting to feel every curve, every indentation. Our eyes lock and we stay there, seemingly frozen in time looking at each other. The purity of the moment wrapping around us like a truthful cloak. As he kneels in front of me and we hold each other’s gaze, my mind flashes back to the image of the female heroine atop the red table during the ballet at Hampton Court, being revered by her male ensemble.
I’ve never experienced anything like this before. Chris’s gentle touch and slow hand is showing me a new appreciation for my own body, for my own sexuality. His obvious appreciation for my womanliness, not as a tool for his own sexual gratification or simply as an object for men to lust after, as I’ve always previously believed it to be, is making me feel both desired and respected, almost worshipped, all at the same time. It’s as if he wants to show me that my body is something to be cherished, to be celebrated, to be touched and to be enjoyed. Is this the feeling I’ve been waiting for? Is Chris about to find the key to unlock that deepest part of me? I’m terrified of letting him lead me in this way, and at the same time nervously excited.
He leans forward. His hands firmly grasping my bum as he slides the tip of his tongue between my legs, exploring my most sensual place. His tongue licking and teasing me, I inhale sharply, the breath catching in my throat as I feel my legs give way from underneath me. In one swift movement he stands up and catches me securely as I lose my balance. Falling backwards he holds me in his arms before lifting me up and carrying me over to the bed. He lays me gently down on top of the covers, before coming to lie next to me.
“Oh, yes you are, Vicky,” he says again.
Lying beside me on the bed, he gently traces the side of my face with his fingers, round the curve of my shoulders, the curve of my breast, down the side of my body, over my hip and down my leg, before retracing his route back up my leg to the special place between my thighs. As his fingers slide easily inside me, my back arches involuntarily as my arms fall above my head in an act of complete submission, my desire increasing as his fingers continue to penetrate and stimulate the deepest part of me.
“Oh God, I want you in me,” I say, my voice barely a whisper, aching for him to fill the void deep within.
“All in good time, Vicky, all in good time,” he replies leaning in to kiss me passionately, his fingers still exploring every part of me. I feel my guard lowering. Once again, I’ve opened myself physically and I know I’m putting my trust into a man. Despite Chris’s touch, his slow hand and gentle movements, he does not appear to want to use me for his own physical gratification. This feels different. I sense his only intention is to give me pleasure, to do what I need and because of that, I continue to trust him, to allow him to lead me.
For hours he explores my body, until there is not one crevice he has not touched, caressed or turned on. I have completely surrendered to his touch, suspended in time, fully present in the moment. My skin feels electric, every nerve tingling as the wanton longing deep within me is almost unbearable, but Chris holds back still, taking me higher and higher, to places I’ve never been. When he eventually slides into me, it’s impossible to feel where I end and he begins. Our energies seemingly truly intertwined, blurred around the edges and merged as one.
As we continue to move in unison, I feel a rising swirl building up through my torso, the white heat between my legs, climbing higher and higher, before it explodes into a massive orgasm. Waves tumbling down, my body rising and falling as the pleasure rolls on and on. At the same time Chris’s body tenses as he too reaches his climax.
Lying now in each other’s arms, it takes a few long moments for me to catch my breath and for my legs to stop quivering. I turn to look at Chris’s face, his head resting on his hand as he lies on his side looking at me, a smile beaming from ear to ear. He reaches forward to kiss my forehead as he waits for me to speak.
“Oh-my-God… thank you,” is all I can say. “I have never experienced anything like
that Christ-o-pher,” annunciating his name in full. “Where on earth did you learn to make love like that?”
“It has nothing to do with learning anything, Vicky. It’s all you. It’s what you do to me. You truly are beautiful. Inside and out.” He strokes my cheek tenderly before continuing, “You just don’t see what I see. You have absolutely no idea, do you?”
The scepticism that is still deeply ingrained from my past experiences is still clouding my judgement. I can’t work out if he’s being truly sincere, or if this is just an amazing line he’s throwing me. Mel’s comment about him ‘playing me’ and ‘being such a flirt’ quietly ringing in my ears. Surely, he can’t be this good, or this can’t be this good. I don’t deserve this, I know I’m not good enough.
My mind is racing, unable to process or analyse what he’s saying, or how I’m feeling, my thoughts attempting to catch up with reality. It seems impossible for me to comprehend that I could be so desirable, or that someone can be this sincere.
He drapes his arm lightly over my waist as he kisses me again. “Now, Miss Victoria, I think you need to get some sleep. One of us has to get up early for work tomorrow, and that…” alluding to the passion we’ve just shared as his fingers continue to trace the outline of my face and cheekbones, “…is just the beginning. There’s lots more where that came from.”
Completely spent from all our lovemaking, we climb under the covers and I turn onto my side as Chris spoons into me, his soft warm breath on my neck, his arm draped loosely over my body as he nuzzles his face into my hair. For once, I don’t reach for my PJs; instead I feel comfortable in my nakedness, falling asleep next to him, skin to skin.
We wake at sunrise as the first shafts of the sun’s rays throw early morning light up against the far bedroom wall. I stir first, turning to gaze at Chris as he lies peacefully, still asleep. I run my hand through his hair and down his smooth chest feeling the definition in his pecs and the hard tone of his flat stomach.
Belonging: Two hearts, two continents, one all-consuming passion. (Victoria in Love Book 1) Page 18
