He puts down the phone but doesn’t say anything to me. I’m stood in the doorway of his living room and we’re both just staring at each other. I should tell him I’m leaving. But I can’t. He’s right. I’ll regret it. Gabriel’s right. I’m scared. I take a step towards him before hesitating again, “you really meant what you said last night?”
“You know I did Clara.” He doesn’t move.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” he frowns, unsure what to make of everything. I can see the question in his eyes; what does that mean? I walk across the room, push his laptop closed and take it off his lap. He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. I take my time, placing the laptop on the coffee table before turning back towards him. I take a seat on the edge of the sofa next to his legs. His hand is resting on his abdomen and I see it twitch. He wants to reach for me but he doesn’t.
“Andrew, there are rules if you are in my life. You might not like it.”
“Tell me,” he sighs and I’m not sure if he thinks I’m looking for more excuses.
“My family have a very public image. I can’t let my private life embarrass them. It has before.”
“Liverpool?” he asks, “I’m not going to hurt you, Clara.”
“You don’t know that,” I tell him, “you probably will and I’ll probably hurt you too and that’s okay. It just can’t be public.”
“What our relationship?” he asks; his back straightening.
“No; our issues...”
“Clara,” Andrew frowns at me, “it’s no one else’s business. If I have a problem with our relationship; you’re the only person I’ll want to talk to. Just you. But you have to trust me. You have to give me a chance.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Okay. So... can I kiss you now?” his smirk is back.
“No.”
“No?” he’s pouting and I think I like it. I bite my lip before leaning in and kissing him gently on the lips. His hand moves to my hair and he pulls me closer until I’m lying on top of him on the sofa. What started off as a gentle peck, quickly escalates into something more when he takes control; his tongue licking at my lips demanding entrance. I sigh, giving in and opening up to him. The kiss intensifies, lips melded together and our tongues fighting for dominance. I pull away to breathe and pull his t-shirt off revealing the perfect abs that I’d always believed were there. His pants are hanging low on his hips and the sight of him is almost too much. “Like what you see, do you Delos?” he’s smirking teasingly at me. Some things don’t change.
“Shut up, Contius.” I reply before covering his lips with my own once more.
He’s still smirking. I can feel it against my lips. His hands are on my arse. He slaps it gently, “I always liked this arse.”
“I told you to shut up,” I sound breathless like I’ve run a marathon. He flips me over so that he’s hovering above me on the couch. My hand is against his hard chest and I can feel his heart beat. He’s looking down at me with an expression I’ve never seen on his face before. I run my other hand through his damp hair and pull him even closer. He smells clean; like soap and shampoo and I’m pretty sure he’s had an apple for breakfast. The thought makes me giggle. His eyebrow rises questioningly but I just shake my head, “kiss me,” I whisper in his ear.
“Whatever you say Miss Delos,” he’s smirking again. This kiss is no less passionate than the last. His body is against mine. His hand is on my neck, tickling my skin. I want more but I don’t want to rush it. He pulls away leaving me wanting and if the sight of the tent in his trousers is anything to go by he’s suffering too. “Spend the day with me, Clara.”
I’m not sure it’s an invitation. It has the ring of a demand. “Okay.”
He’s surprised by the lack of argument but I think he’s pleased. “If I’d realised you would agree that easily I’d have asked for the whole weekend.”
I laugh, “I’d probably have given it to you.” He’s really smiling now.
“First, we can’t have you wearing the same outfit you wore last night.”
“I can go home and change,” I say looking down at my dress.
“No,” his answer is quick. He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the room and down the corridor and into his bedroom, “I don’t plan to go out today; you can wear my clothes.”
“Okay.” He’s rummaging in his wardrobe looking for something for me to wear. I take the opportunity to look around his bedroom. Just like in his living room there are no photographs on the walls. In fact the only thing you could describe as personal in the whole room is the small pile of books on his bedside table. I glance at the titles; A tale of two cities and War and Peace are amongst the titles. “You like to read?” I ask.
He looks over at me, “every day.” He hands me a small pile of clothes, “I’ll leave you to change.”
I nod, “thank you.”
He kisses me on the top of my head, “see you in a second princess.”
My breath catches at his words and tears come to my eyes. He must notice because he’s looking at me thoughtfully but after a moment he shakes his head and pulls away leaving me alone in his room. I look down at the clothes he’s given me. There is a blue shirt; I’ve seen him wear it to work before and a pair of boxers. I pull the clothes on quickly; happy with the fresh clean feeling they give me. I make a pile of my own clothes; the dress and my underwear. I take one last look around the room before glancing down at his bed. He’d never know, I think to myself. I listen for a second to check that he’s not about to come back before leaning down and picking up his pillow. I breathe in the smell of him before putting it back down and leaving the room. I leave the pile of clothes by my handbag in the hallway and walk into the living room. He’s waiting for me. He looks serious. He’s sat on the sofa. He’s got his t-shirt back on. He smiles at me, “come here.”
I don’t speak but do as he asks. I go and sit next to him on the sofa. He turns so that he’s looking at me, “Clara, why does the nickname princess upset you so much?”
“It doesn’t,” I try to deny it. Truth is, it always has.
“Don’t lie princess. I can tell. You just winced for fucks sake.” He runs an agitated hand through his hair.
“Do you really want to know?” I ask him.
“Is it my fault?” he asks. Even when we were kids he’d always called me princess.
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“Then why?” he asks. He isn’t going to drop this.
“My mother.”
“But you don’t know your mother.” His words sound harsh but I know he’s just trying to clarify the situation. He isn’t trying to be unkind.
“No, I don’t. I never have.”
“Never?” he’s surprised.
“She left when I was a baby.”
He exhales sharply. I pull my legs up to my chest as I begin to explain, “I’ve never even spoken to her. I don’t know her name. I used to...”
I gasp as he pulls me into his lap so that I’m in his arms. I try to avoid looking at him but he pulls on my chin gently until our eyes meet. “Tell me.”
“Why?” I ask, silently begging him to let it go.
“Because I need to know if I’m hurting you.”
“You’re not.”
“You winced.”
“I’ve winced at a lot of things that you’ve said to me.”
“Not today,” and I hear what he’s saying loud and clear; that today is our fresh start.
“When I was a little girl, before you knew me, I used to pretend that she was a queen or a princess of some distant Disneyesk land. I used to tell Anna that one day she would come and rescue me because I’m a princess.”
“You are a princess,” he pulls me tighter into his arms. “You’re my princess.”
“I’m not,” I sigh, “I’m just Clara an
d that’s okay.”
“I’m never going to stop calling you princess, you know that right?”
I frown because I don’t really understand why he won’t just leave it. “Clara, if your mother doesn’t realise your value then she’s an idiot but it doesn’t make you any less valuable. You might not be her princess but you’re certainly mine.”
I’m crying so I lean my face into the crook of his neck so he won’t see. “Don’t hide from me, Delos.” He chastises me softly. “When my mum tried to kill herself, I blamed myself.”
“Why? It wasn’t your fault.”
“Of course on a purely intellectual level I know that but emotionally... I just thought I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough to keep her sane... to keep her alive.”
“That’s what I worry about...” I say it so quietly I’m not sure he will actually hear me. “That if I agree to meet her, I’ll realise that I’m right because I can’t understand why I wasn’t enough to keep her... or why she didn’t take me with her.”
“I’m sorry Princess,” his words are soft, “please don’t be sad. Do you want to watch a film? I got popcorn.”
I smile at that, “flavour?”
“Toffee of course,” he’s smiling sweetly, “you never did like sweet or salted popcorn.”
“What are we going to watch?”
“Anything you want, Clara.”
“Whatever you can find will do,” I tell him honestly.
He selects a movie. It’s a classic Hitchcock’s so I know it’s going to be good but I’m barely paying attention to it. Right from the moment he presses play, my focus is on him. He’s lying on the sofa next to me. I’m curled around him, with my head on his chest. I can hear his heart beat. It’s softer than it was earlier. His hand is running up and down my spine and it’s very distracting. I sigh with frustration and I hear him chuckle, “alright princess?”
“Fuck you,” I grumble.
“That’s not very nice,” he’s such a smug bastard sometimes. “Not enjoying the film?”
“It’s a great film.” I refuse to give in.
“But you aren’t enjoying it,” he’s chuckles again before turning off the television, “tell me what you want to do.”
I don’t want to rush but my body is on fire and he’s still touching me. “You bastard.”
“I’m a bastard now am I?” trust him to find this entertaining. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”
Perhaps if I can get his hands off me, I can cool down. “I’m hungry.”
He grins at me wolfishly, “hungry?”
I ignore the double meaning in his tone, “yes hungry... I think you should make me some lunch.”
“Lunch?” his grin doesn’t falter, “What would you like?”
“Anything,” I reply, “whatever you can make.”
“Well I don’t know,” he’s smirking now, “I’d be happy to just eat you.” He bites down on my shoulder gently making me gasp. His fingers are still making a trail along my spine. “But if it’s food you want...” he sighs and gets to his feet, leaving me alone on the sofa. I very nearly call him back and beg him to take me right here on the sofa.
CHAPTER eight: Andrew
I take my time making Clara a sandwich. I really do love teasing her. I can feel her gaze on me and I can hear her foot tapping impatiently. I want to fuck her. I know I should take her on a date first. Dinner or something. Problem is I want her right now. I’ve been hard for hours and it’s beginning to take its toll. I make my way back to her with her sandwich, “are you not hungry?” she asks.
“No. I had an apple a little while ago,” I tell her and I notice her smirking at me. I almost ask her about it but decide against it when she offers me half her sandwich.
“I can share,” she says.
“Thank you,” I’m not hungry but I’d never refuse anything she offered me.
We eat quietly and when we’re finished I place her plate in the sink. I need to get her out of this apartment, if we’re not going to have sex today. I should have thought this through better. “Andrew,” she sounds uncertain as I turn to face her.
“Yeah Clara?”
She’s smiling shyly, “I’m trying really hard not to ask you to fuck me because you haven’t even taken me out on a date or anything...” her words are blunt and forward and they go straight to my dick.
“Princess what do you want?” I ask her; “do you want us to go out somewhere public? Ease the temptation? Or do you want me to fuck you?”
“Can I say both?”
I chuckle, “yeah you can... you deserve flowers... you deserve a date... dates... I should woo you. It’s what you deserve but right now I want to scoop you up and carry your perfect arse into my bedroom and fuck you until we’ve both had our fill, even if that means not stopping until we go to work Monday morning.”
She’s laughing again. I take a breath, “so which do you choose? Do you want flowers and dates and wooing or do you want me to fuck you?”
“Tomorrow, you promise you’ll woo me?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.
“I’ll woo you every day of my life if you’ll let me.”
“Okay,” she says.
“Okay?”
“Okay,” she’s smirking, “pick up my perfect arse and fuck me into next week.”
I laugh because that’s exactly what I plan to do. I pull her up and drag her down the corridor and into my bedroom. I close the door behind her and just take in the sight of her stood there in front of me. She’s wearing my shirt and my boxers and if I wasn’t already hard the sight of her hear in my clothes would be enough. I consider jumping her but I want this to last. I need it to last. This is the moment I’ve been imagining every time I’ve brought myself off since I was a teenage boy. Her fingers are on the shirt she is wearing. She undoes the top button before hesitating. Her eyes are on me, watching my reaction. I’m barely breathing. I pull my t-shirt over my head as quickly as I can. I don’t want to miss a thing and even a second of blindness as my shirt covers my eyes is too much.
She’s onto the second button, then the third. She pushes her hand under the fabric and rolls her breast in her palm and I almost groan in agony. She’s killing me but I’m so focused on the sight of her that I can’t move and I definitely can’t interrupt. “I want you,” she tells me and that’s all the encouragement I need to pounce. I stride across the space between us and my mouth is on hers within seconds. She moans into my mouth. She’s working the buttons of the shirt until it’s completely open. I smirk at her, “you’re beautiful.”
She smiles back at me before I lean my head down and suck on her left nipple. I bite it gently causing her to moan. Her hands are on my sweatpants. She’s pushing them down until they are around my knees. She surprises me when she uses her foot to dislodge them further pushing them down to the floor. I step out of them and pick her up. She wraps her legs around my waist and wraps her arms around my shoulders so that she’s enclosed my head inside them. She kisses me then and I lie her down on the bed, hovering over her.
She’s a sight to behold, lying there in my open shirt and a pair of my boxers. Her hand is underneath their band, rubbing her sex gently as she waits for me. I lean across to my bedside cabinet, pulling out a condom. I pull myself onto my knees between her open legs and pull down my boxers and roll the condom onto my throbbing cock. “You’re sure you don’t want me to woo you first?” I ask her with a teasing wink.
“I think I’ll live without the flowers,” she grins, “so long as I get tulips tomorrow.”
“Tulips huh?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she nods as her eyes take in every detail of my body, “my favourites.”
“I’ll remember that,” I mutter into her ear, “I’ll buy you them every day.”
I pull down the boxers she’s wearing and pull her hand away from her sex. I look at her face and I love the fact she’s completely unembarrassed. I bring her hand to my mouth and suck on the fingers that moments ago were
inside her wet sex. “Fuck you taste good.”
I lock our fingers together before licking her clit, “I was just going to fuck you... and save this for later. I didn’t think I would be able to wait but one taste just won’t be enough.”
I bring her to orgasm with my mouth, delving my tongue deep inside her as I rub her clit with my thumb. When I feel her walls begin to spasm around my tongue I pull away but replace my tongue with my hard, throbbing dick. I enter her quickly and she takes me straight to the hilt with a moan of ecstasy. The orgasm has her writhing and convulsing on the bed sheets beneath me. I begin to move inside her before she comes down from her high. Even though I want this to last, I can’t take it slow. It would be torture. The sound of the bed banging against the walls keeps me focused as I try to make this last as long as I can. She’s grasping at me, tearing up my back, digging in her nails. “Fuck,” she moans.
“Clara,” I groan out her name. My thighs are working overtime as I pull out and push into her over and over again, relishing the feel of her sex against my dick. The feel of her tits against my hard chest. “Your bloody perfect princess.”
She’s close again. Her back arches off the bed and she meets me thrust for thrust. I lean down and kiss along her jaw, her neck, collar before biting down on her breast. She’s going to have love bites and I should feel bad but I don’t. This is what I’ve always wanted. I’ve always wanted to call her mine; to claim her in the most primitive ways that a man can claim a woman, “you’re mine,” I tell her and for once I don’t worry that she’ll argue back.
“I’m yours,” she moans, “Andrew... Andrew, I’m all yours.”
This might be the best day of my bloody life. The feel of her skin next to mine is enough to keep my dick in a half hard state. Her leg is wrapped across my waist and her hand is drawing patterns on my chest. Her head resting on my shoulder and she’s breathing so softly, I’m certain she’s asleep. I’ve fucked more women than I can count but none of them could compare to Clara. I’m just lying here looking up at the ceiling wondering how I got so lucky. My phone buzzes from where it is in the pocket of my joggers. It’s probably Landon. I should get up so that I can respond to the text message but I don’t want to disturb her. “You can get it you know,” she whispers gently.
Repeating History (History #1) Page 10
