I can’t help but laugh. “Fucking bitch must have, even when I was just born.”
He chews his lip. “Etta suits you better.”
“Still not as bad as Floor.”
“Eh?” He looks confused.
“Woman I’m volunteering with, she’s called Floor. It’s Dutch.”
“Wow.”
“I know, right?”
We catch each other’s eyes and the next thing, we’re kissing again, that mad, passionate type of kissing, the endless kissing of desire, need, want.
Reaching for the hem of his shirt I yank it up and he helps me get it off.
“Oh Jesus,” I moan, running my fingers over his body. He’s ripped, savagely so. My chest heaving, I can’t control myself as I start kissing his pecs, the soft line of hair between them, and his hard nipples. I’m invaded by sweat and some expensive cologne he only saw fit to spray once or twice on himself. This guy is such a man, such a guy, and I love his masculinity. It’s a massive turn-on how unruly he is, in every sense.
I’m yanked off my feet and he starts carrying me upstairs. I’m not a fantasist, I know how much I weigh, but he’s strong and doesn’t care. I tighten my hands on his glorious shoulders and lose my mind when he pulls my pelvis tight against his erection.
In the bedroom I’m placed back on my feet and he pushes my shirt up and off, tossing it to the floor. I’m open-mouthed with shock as he tilts my head back and relentlessly bestows kisses up and down my throat.
He flicks my bra open and I’m thrown down on the bed, his mouth on me, sucking my breast. Heat pools in my stomach, making me delirious, making me blind – and past the point of any sort of return. He takes my bum in his hands and growls when he lifts me to him, rubbing himself against me.
This is the hottest moment of my entire life.
I push my hand through his hair and yank out the band he uses to tie it back, allowing myself the fantasy of clutching his thick Samson locks between my fingers. I moan as he strokes his hands down my body, fumbling for my zip to take off the skirt. I help his trembling fingers to get it off even though I can hardly stand this tension. I want him so much.
He tosses the skirt to the floor and rolls on top of me, my body now only covered by tights and a small pair of black knickers.
He kisses me wildly, lost to his passion. I love his broad shoulders, love them so much I bite them in between his kisses. He rocks against my groin as he unrelentingly kisses my mouth, face, throat and breasts.
“Joe,” I gasp, as he presses his hand against my groin.
“Do I need to wear anything? I’ve always used… I’ve always been careful… but I’d love to slide straight into you. God you’re so beautiful.”
My groin clenches. I can’t stand it. I push his hand into my knickers and he grunts to feel me, so ready for him. I rock against his fingers and come. My eyes shut, I’m clinging to his shoulders and arching, coming so freely. I can’t stop trembling.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” I moan, shivering, and unable to stop myself. I throw my hands over my eyes because I can’t believe what I just did but it doesn’t stop him.
He leaves the bed, gets himself out of his jeans and socks, and before I can stop him he’s yanking my tights down my legs, the panties quickly following.
I’m still clenching as he lies on top of me, his body so strong and hot, sweat running down his back.
“I’m gonna make love to you now, Etta.”
Through the mist of my desire for him, I blink and catch his face, his eyes searching for approval from me. I reach down to touch him, finding him hot and so very hard in my hand.
“Joe, push inside me. Please.”
I look at him as he’s about to push into me. I can hardly believe how beautiful he is. I’m roaring with an inferno between my legs. I need to fasten my legs around him and scratch my nails down his back, things I never even needed to be taught. This man warrants such actions. I help him align himself and our eyes lock as he pushes the plush head of his sex into me and halts, waiting, wondering if everything’s okay. It’s very bloody okay. He’s fits perfectly inside me.
I lock my ankles around his back, my hands on his shoulders, my smiles all for him. “You’re very beautiful yourself, Mr Jones.”
My hands move to the nape of his neck, so thick and strong, and I caress the smooth skin there and gasp when he begins thrusting and pushes deeper.
“Ohhh god,” I groan, tossing back my head.
I lift my hips with his thrusts, feeling all of him, my desire growing again. He kisses me rampantly, as if he’ll never get enough, as if he’s been starved. His beard grazes my mouth, my breasts, his stubble more than appealing to me. I’ve always loved dark, hairy men.
His hand’s in my hair, he’s roasting hot on top of me, and I’m ready to climax once more.
“Joe, I’m gonna come again, oh no, I’m gonna come again, I’m gonna…”
“I’m close,” he whispers, moving his arms beneath me to hold me close. He’s everywhere; if his hands are not on my thighs, they’re on my bottom or my back or in my hair.
I claw his arms, trying to hold on but the urge to let go is so powerful.
“Look at me, Etta. I need to see you.”
I open my eyes and look at him. He’s shaking violently, trying to make this last. There’s sweat on his forehead, his eyes are as black as night, and I know I’ve never been with anyone I care about before – but this guy I really care about.
I watch his face as he rocks with me, making love to me, carefully holding his own weight.
He’s looking at me as if he can’t believe how beautiful I am, or how close to his naked body I am, or how with him I am. Holding his hand against my cheek he places a soft, tender kiss on my lips, his thumb caressing where he just touched. Then his lust turns into biting and nibbling so that I can’t even remember my own name through the madness of his desire for me.
He thrusts faster and pushes me harder into the bed. When I can’t take it anymore I bite into his arm and cry out, my eyes shutting from the pressure, my mouth falling open.
“Ah I’m gonna come inside you baby, tell me if you don’t want me–”
“Please, please!”
He throws his hips into me two times, both times hard and knocking the wind out of me. When I feel him come inside me, it’s indescribable. Waves of pleasure start to roll over me and I milk the last of him, pulling him against me, my body devouring his. I’m shuddering uncontrollably, my arms clinging to him, my head thrown forward into his shoulder. I sigh and it’s all blank, and dark, and I’m nothing but sated.
It can’t be over. No…
I want to cry, because it is.
He’ll be done with me now.
He collapses on top of me, breathing heavily in my ear. I reach for the bedside lamp and switch it on. It’s best he gets going right away.
“I’ve gotta be up tomorrow.” I start to protest.
He slips out of me and it’s devastating. It hurts physically but more so, emotionally. I don’t want him to leave but I guess he has to. This is for the best.
He rolls to my side a smidgen but rather than let me go, he pulls me closer.
“Joe…”
I’m looking up at the ceiling just so I don’t have to look at him.
“Come here, Het.” His voice is soft and tender, gentle and coaxing.
I huff, impatient. Why must he try to make this something it isn’t?
Yes, I just had the best – and most rampant – sex of my life, but we doesn’t have a leg to stand on, right?
“You should get yourself home, Joe.”
“Come here, to me. Look at me.”
Reluctantly, I turn to look up at him. He looks happy that I’ve done as he asked. So happy I want to swipe that grin off his face.
I stare blankly.
He pulls me tight against him and bestows the most gentle, intoxicating kiss of my life on the corner of my mouth. I want him so, so much. I want him like I
’ve never wanted anything before. How did I not see this beauty, sitting pretty, right under my nose?
His hands slide over my body, continuing to explore my planes. I worry he’s too young to know these feelings but right now this all feels very real, especially as he has his hand on my thigh, possessively pulling it over his hip. It makes me feel uncomfortable when he nuzzles into my neck, bestowing genuine affection on me. He already got what he wanted, right?
“Joe, you don’t have to–”
He kisses my ear, muttering, “Unless you have a good reason to toss me away, I’m never leaving you. I would’ve asked you out sooner if you weren’t working for my dad.”
“Joe, stop…”
He kisses my mouth even gentler, so tenderly, I have to close my eyes. His fingertips are on my brow, his arms are tight around me.
“Give me a good reason to stop, Het.”
My heart’s clapping in my chest. I’m on fire and so terrified, I feel sick. I know what I’ll see in his eyes when I open mine. When he nips my bottom lip between his teeth, my eyes fly open to find a stunning, dark, passionate young man staring down on me with so much hope in his eyes. I wish I could show him the world through my view, but that wouldn’t be kind – or fair. The world through my eyes is one he doesn’t need to see.
“I’m not what you need, Joe.”
He doesn’t frown, just searches my eyes, judging my words to be woolly – or maybe that’s me knowing they are.
He smoothes his hand over my breast. “Fuck what I need. You’re everything I want. I’ve wanted you since the moment I clapped eyes on you. I’ve wanted you so badly, for so long. You’re even more amazing in reality.”
He pulls me closer, trying to seal us together again, even tighter this time.
“No… Joe…”
“You’re special, I know it,” he whispers against my mouth, and his gentle, easy kisses lull me back under his spell. His hands feel far too good on my body, constantly seeking the silken skin of my back.
While I’m wrapping my arms around his neck, he asks softly, “Is that still a no, Het?”
“Joe…” I arch towards him, feeling him growing harder by the second.
“I’m going to take my time for this one, baby. Then after that, we’ll have proper monkey sex. Preferably you’ll get me that food you promised me, at some point…” Another kiss. And two more. And another. All different but equally as distracting. “I doubt we’ll sleep tonight… I’ve imagined this so many times…”
“Joe…”
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, before he’s pouring his soul into me again through his multilingual kisses.
I dig my hands into his hair and lose myself, completely.
“Joe…”
My pointless protests become my chants.
* * *
THE alarm sounds and we both groan awake. I fumble for the alarm clock and it ends up ricocheting to the carpeted floor.
Joe pins me in his arms. “What time did we get to bed?”
“Don’t know,” I mumble.
He chuckles and it all comes back to me. Sex on the stairs. The kitchen floor. Eating tortilla chips with melted cheese, jalapenos and sour cream at two in the morning… between dancing around to music on his phone, him in his boxers and me in the Nirvana shirt.
He’s snuggling up behind me, his legs trapping mine, his hands round my tits, his chin resting on my shoulder. “Do you have to go?”
“Meet and greet and a bit of training for the culture gig.”
“Aren’t you going to reapply for the police? Does this pay?”
“I have money.”
“That’s good.”
I turn my head to laugh in his face. “Don’t tell me you only want me for my money.”
He smiles but it quickly falls into something much more sincere, more contemplative.
“You’re even lovelier in the morning… natural,” he murmurs, seeing past all my bullshit. I love and loathe this about Joe Jones – he ignores my neurotic tendencies and all my fripperies and cuts straight to the point.
He leans in and I kiss him quick. My kiss distracts him and I manage to get free of the bed.
“We’ll end up glued together if we stay here all day.”
“Fine by me.” He watches me leave the bed, arms above his head, very pleased with himself.
After my shower I return to the room wearing a towel and carrying a glass of water. He’s found himself one of my bedside books.
“Liza,” I say, and he looks up.
“Doesn’t seem like your sort of read,” he says, showing me the chicklit cover.
“I don’t read them, but they look pretty on the side there.”
I grab my pills out of the bedside and pop one. I wonder if I shouldn’t pop two today but that would be silly of me…
“Will they work properly? I mean, I lost count… we went at it pretty hard last night.”
Basically he’s saying I’m full of him.
“Don’t know, Joe,” I smirk, “never let a man do that to me before. Here’s hoping though, eh? Going by my forebears, I don’t think I could be trusted to name a child properly.”
He guffaws and tosses the book onto the bedside. “Bring that gorgeous body here for a moment.”
Tightening the towel I stop what I’m doing, i.e. collecting clothes to wear today, and slide onto the bed next to him. Rubbing my hand through his scruff, he grins, his hands sliding down my back.
“Can I come tonight?”
“You can come any night lover, just use your hand.”
He shakes his head. “I mean here, can I come here?”
“Ohhhhh… I see.” I raise one eyebrow.
“Pretty please.”
I fear this will get out of hand. So I try to be gentle. “Tomorrow night. I need to catch up on my beauty sleep tonight.”
He pouts. “I could come and not sleep with you.”
I shake my head. “You know that’s not going to work.”
“Tomorrow then, for sure?”
“For sure.”
“Let me cook?”
I’m surprised. “Okay.”
“Great. I’ll go shopping.” He reaches for my lips, kissing me, slipping in a bit of tongue.
A pang of heat wallops me, right between the legs. “Stop or I’ll never leave for work.”
“I’ll stop then,” he mumbles, still with his lips to mine.
I slide on top of him and our kiss becomes reckless but beautiful. I’m humming on the crest of this wave of whatever wonderful drug this is. I could stay in bed with him all day, there’s nothing really stopping me except myself and my sense of duty to follow through on something I committed to. Maybe it’s also that I’m afraid that if I do stay with Joe today, I’ll start to get too comfy and I can’t let that happen. He will eventually discover my ugliness and leave me. It’s what they all do.
Even feeling his bicep flex as I hold him down, I know if I don’t get off him right now, I never will. He makes me feel safe and wanted and he feels amazing beneath me, so strong and warm. But I cannot lose sight of reality. I can’t let myself become too entranced.
For him, this is just a crush, right?
He doesn’t see that for me, love is the one thing I crave, yet the one thing always evading me – because I’m not meant to be loved. I’m the jagged little pill no man – especially this gorgeous human being – deserves to swallow.
I lift away from him, only to catch sight of the happiness in his eyes. For a moment, I believe this could work. Then I remember myself…
Maybe this could be fun and frivolous – but that’s all. Just a fling. Something light. Something easy. And then we’ll part ways.
“You can’t be a waster your whole life, Jones,” I remind him, encouraging him to go back to his normal life.
“First year, remember? Doesn’t count. Besides I’m an A-star student.”
“I remember, stud.”
Lurching away from him, he gives
me no fight.
I tie my damp hair back in a bun and quickly pull clothes on, pretty plain ones. I smear on a bit of foundation at my white dressing table by the bay window, followed by a touch of powder, some mascara and a little tinted lip gloss.
“Breakfast, lover?” I ask with a dirty grin.
He’s still tenting the duvet.
Clearly his throat, he replies, “Cold shower first.”
AFTER feeding him scrambled eggs on toast, we kiss passionately behind the front door before vacating the premises.
“Friday,” I groan, his lips bruising mine even more.
“Friday.”
“I have to go.”
“Don’t go…”
“Have to…”
I kiss him one last time before swinging open the door, pushing him out and locking up with the speed of light.
I give him a warning look and remind him, “Don’t tell them a thing. We’ll keep our naughties just between me and thee.”
He nods but doesn’t look impressed.
“Friday,” I remind him, then blow him a kiss.
I start running to catch the bus before I’m late for training.
* * *
THE buses were running late tonight, some crash on Beverley Road. I’m shattered now I’m finally walking back through the front door. Last night… and then today’s full day of training and pretending that I do small talk – I’m pooped.
I don’t even think I have the energy to cook or watch crappy TV. The council laid on a buffet for us at lunchtime today and I ate like a pig so I could easily go without this evening. Plus I’m absolutely shattered. Joe’s got the stamina of an athlete and he was relentless.
As I prop myself up against the kitchen counter, a glass of water in one hand, I have to stop myself from touching parts of my body which still remember his touch.
My phone buzzes and I look down. There are a few texts. Some I answered on the bus, some have arrived between me leaving the bus and walking the few metres here to my house. Of course they’re from Joe:
Are you home yet?
I’m home. And so exhausted. Think I’m gonna crash right away. I’m helping in the charity shop again in the morning.
Hetty: An Angel Avenue Spin-Off Page 5
