by Sam Hall
“I don’t give a shit about morning breath,” he said and leaned over to touch his lips lightly to mine. When I responded, the kiss grew deeper, slower, the rough of his stubble scraping over my skin as he nipped and sucked at my bottom lip, his tongue lightly running along the seam of my mouth until I gave up and parted them for him. I expected it to be like last time, fierce, plundering greedy kisses, but instead, it was . . . lazy, like he had all the time in the world. He pulled back and cupped my chin with his hand.
“So, where does it hurt the most?”
Which is how I came to be lying on my front, his hard hands mercilessly working on the knots in my thighs and back. “This helping?” he asked in a low rumble.
“Mm . . . you can do that forever,” I said.
I had definitely been too tired for sex last night, but not now. His strong hands worked higher and higher up my thigh and I felt my body slicken in response because now, I was well-rested. As if he knew, his hands trailed away, moving up to my buttocks and starting to dig in there. Just go with it, I told myself, this feels awesome. My body felt like jelly under his hands, the long, sure strokes pushing out all of the pain. After he’d worked his way up my back and down again, he started back on my legs. God, just a little bit higher, I prayed as his hands worked. They dug deep into my tender inner thighs, forcing my cunt to open slightly which almost had me starting to grind on the bed. Finally, his fingers brushed over my most sensitive spot.
“You want this?” he asked with a rasp.
I flipped over in response, too far gone with desire to care about him seeing me in all my morning glory. He knelt there, naked, powerful thighs bent, his cock a rigid column between them. I raised a knee, pointed my toe and very gently, very carefully, ran it up the length of his twitching erection. “Oh yeah.” He instantly moved to cover his body with mine, but I stopped him with my foot on his chest. “Your turn this time,” I said.
“No, look, I need–”
“I know exactly what you need. Shut up and stay where you are.”
“Ash, love, I love where your mind is going, but . . . uhhh!” A choked groan slipped from his lips the moment mine went around his dick. “Ash . . .,” he hissed, almost reverently. His hand buried itself in my hair but did not seek to move or direct me. Rather it was a light, almost disbelieving presence. “Oh, God, Ash!” This was not something I could do easily due to his size, but I felt it long overdue after yesterday. I ran my tongue up the thick ridge that led from the base to the head, heard his breath catch as I laved my tongue over his head, pursing my lips and sucking him in–just the tip–then swirling my tongue around him before opening my mouth wider. I descended slowly, as much because I was afraid my teeth would scrape down his length as anything. I felt the tension in my jaw as I forced him in deeper. “Ash! Ash!” he gasped as I wrapped my hand around the base, where I couldn’t go any further and then set up a steady rhythm.
He couldn’t just sit there and take it, his thighs began to flex, his groin thrusting slightly forward to meet the downward stroke of my mouth. He was getting close, his cock becoming that super engorged hardness that indicated it wouldn’t be long. I upped my speed, saliva drooling down his length. “Uh, uh, oh!” His hands clamped down hard on the sides of my head as he jerked forward, forcing his dick in a little bit further. It throbbed and swelled as he shot his load, his breath a ragged gasp that ended with a shudder.
I was pulled away after that, pushed back onto the bed, my legs parted. He looked down, his eyes raking over my body and then up through slitted eyes, an easy smile on his face. “My turn now.”
He slid up behind me as I was cooking eggs and bacon in the kitchen, circling my waist with a strong arm, resting his head in the point between my neck and shoulders, bestowing light, prickly kisses along the skin. “Smells good, baby. I bet it tastes almost as good as you.”
“Reckon you’re getting some?” I asked, smacking his hand away with the spatula as he tried to spear a small piece on the end of a fork.
“Love, a man’s gotta keep his strength up if he’s gonna do what I’m planning–”
“Yeah, about that. I’m due at my parents for a late lunch. I figure we have some breakfast, have a shower, probably time for a quick round two and then we can catch up afterwards if you’re still keen.” He moved to lean against the kitchen counter. I pulled out plates and started dishing out the food when I noted the crossed arms and the twisted smile. “What? I cook the bacon too long for you?”
“You don’t want me to come?”
“What? Before I leave? Sure I do. I’m pretty keen to as well. This morning was lovely, but for some reason, it makes me just want more.”
“Is that what this is, Ash?” he said, picking up his plate and taking a seat at the bench. “You scratch my itch, I’ll scratch yours.”
“Well, yeah. Isn’t it? What are you saying? That you want to meet my parents?” I chuckled at this. Guys, in my experience, would jump off three-story balconies to get away from the dreaded parent meet and greet. It wasn’t something I especially enjoyed, either, it was bloody awkward. Hi, Mr and Mrs So and So, I’m fucking your son, nice to meet you. He just watched me cut up my bacon and chew, his eyes flat. What the hell was his problem? Blow jobs and bacon were every red-blooded guy’s favourite way to spend a weekend. He should have a big ol' smile on his dial. “Oh, my God, you do,” I said, the realisation hitting me.
What. The. Fuck? Seriously, what the fucking fuck? I imagined my Dad meeting the burly Gabe, right after he pitched a fit that his daughter was doing a guy with a motorbike. And Mum, oh, my God, I found her difficult at times, she was always so prissy about everything, but bringing home biker porn guy would just about induce an aneurysm. “Gabe, I don’t even know your middle name.”
“It’s Daniel,” he said, picking up his knife and fork and starting to eat.
The meal went by very quickly. There was just the constant clinking and scraping of silverware on ceramic and then we were done. He picked up his plate and mine without saying a word and put them in the sink, giving them a rinse before disappearing off into the bathroom. My phone was in my hand the moment I heard the shower run, dialling my sister’s number in the next.
“Hey,” she said in a sleepy mumble.
“Gabe wants to come to lunch at Mum and Dad’s.”
“Ah, so he turned up after all, huh? I thought he might.”
“Are you listening to me? Mum, Dad and biker porn guy. Can you imagine? I thought it was all part of the international bro code; thou shalt not meet the in-laws until engaged or she’s knocked up,” I hissed.
“I’ve met my boyfriend’s parents and I wasn’t knocked up.”
“Yes, but you’re a girl and he . . . is not a girl. What do I do? Mum will shit bricks! And why the hell is he doing this? I think he’s pissed that I didn’t invite him!” I hissed.
“Oh . . . oh!”
“What? What does that mean?”
“Ash, maybe this is what Nan’s curse was about! Finding someone to love! And he’s so perfect for you. Strong without being too pushy.”
“Tess.”
“And you always did have a thing for blonds.”
“Tess! You’ve read the damn book, what am I to expect here?”
“Um . . . well, is he being kinda . . . squishy?”
“Squishy? I guess. He was all ’this is so good, and you want to turn your back on it’ yesterday, but it was hardly protestations of love.”
“Yeah, I think those are coming.”
“What? What have you fucking done?”
“Look, I know it’s fast–”
“We fucked a couple of times, that’s it. I don’t know where he works, how old he is, whether he thinks pineapple is an aberration on pizzas? And he knows nothing about me!”
“I know, but it’s a bit of a thing . . .”
“What is a thing?” I snarled.
“A lot of romance novels like what’s called insta-love. People have chemistry,
fuck like bunnies, bada bing, you’re in love.”
“That’s not love, that’s insanity.”
“I know that, but it’s all terribly romantic. And good sex is code for soul mate/father of your unborn children in these books. Apparently, all relationships without earth-moving sex aren’t true love.”
“I hate you.”
“Look, just let him down easy. It’ll be fine.”
“Hate you so, so much.”
“Or maybe . . .”
“Oh, please, please tell me your brilliant idea, please? It’s not like your last one got me in this situation!”
“Maybe you could just go with it.”
“What? Let him love me? He’s not a stray dog, he’s a person, or–”
“C’mon Ash, he floats your boat. I realised that when I picked up the book. You kept getting sent the kinds of guys I would have liked to burst into my life, so I went and found a book with the kind of guy you’d like.”
“Really? That really tall elf guy with the purple eyes and tinsel hair? That’s what you’re into?”
“He was supposed to be thousands of years old. That’s plenty of time for him to . . . hone his skills and anyway, I thought he was beautiful.”
“He looked like an old piece of driftwood with Christmas decorations draped over it, like some kind of terrible kiddie art project.”
“He was an embodiment of the element of wind.”
“Wind? Oh, yeah, I can see it now, he did look like he wanted to fart but couldn’t. Please tell me you pulled his finger at least once, please.”
“Anyway, he didn’t even notice me because of the bloody curse, but back to you and your predicament. Why don’t you just bring him?”
“Because end of the world and civilisation as we know it. You know Mum, I’ll be in my 90s and she’ll be haunting me as a ghost for bringing ‘that man’ into the house.”
“Oh, she’s not that bad. You’ve seen the pics of Dad when he was young. He was kinda groovy.”
I leant back in my chair and scrubbed at my hair, eyes darting to the shower. The water had just been turned off. “How do I get out of this?” I whispered. “How do girls break up with these guys?”
“Break up? They don’t. This is their true love.”
“Oh fuck, so you’ve saddled me with some kind of outlaw stalker with a giant wang.”
“So didn’t need to hear that.”
“This is not my true love. I don’t even know what a true love is. If you love someone, doesn’t that make it true? What’s a false love?”
“Do you really want to philosophise about this because I’m tired and want to go back to sleep?”
“Why, up with Merlin the Magnificent all night? Tell me, does he live up to his name?”
“Do you really want to know?”
Whoa, I had expected her to act all coy and shy, but instead, I got up front and daring? Where had my timid little sister gone? And what was going on with her and the millennia-old magician of myth and legend? Why was it all old guys with her, anyway? Apparently, my pause to think was taken as a no. “Look, Ash, bring, don’t bring. It’s up to you. You usually do what you want to do, anyway and Mum deals. Remember when you shaved your head? She can’t freak out more than that. I’ll see you there.”
Gabe came out of the shower, rubbing his long locks with a towel. “Look, I gotta go. There’s a few bikes I should have finished by now, been a bit distracted with setting up and the shop and everything,” he said.
“Gabe–”
“Hey, I misread the situation. I won’t waste any more of your time.”
“This hasn’t been a waste of time. You only had to listen to me to know I was into this as much as you were.”
He nodded, then smiled slightly, “Yeah, you were squealing like a bunny.” I preferred sensual, full-grown woman but potatoe, pahtato. “Look, babe, you got places to be. I’m going to take a ride, let off some steam and get some work done. Have fun at your parents’.” He deposited a brief kiss on top of my head and laid the towel across my dining room chair before picking up his bag and walking out the door. It closed with barely a sound, leaving me standing in my flat, wondering what the hell had just happened.
19
“So, did he pledge his troth under your ficus or what?” Tess asked, climbing in the passenger seat. I’d picked her up outside the front of her place,
“No.”
“At the breakfast table? No? God, it wasn’t midway through sex, was it? ‘Uh, uh, I love you!’” Tess cackled.
“You really want me to tell you what he said to me during sex?”
“Yeah, good point. So, how are you coping? It wasn’t what I intended, but I have to admit, I am amused to see prickly Ash being wooed by a biker babe.”
“Yeah, I think my ability to amuse you has come to an end. He walked out. How the hell did I manage to hurt someone who was brainwashed into being a fictional character?”
“Ah, Ash,” Tess sighed, leaning back into the car seat as we pulled out onto the highway. “You can’t bloody help yourself, can you?”
“What? I’m some horrible beast because I didn’t want to bring my one night, sorry, two-night stand to Mum and Dad’s?”
“It’s not that. Sometimes I think you’re the reason why the curse is this way.”
“What the hell?”
“You’ve always been . . . closed off. You don’t let people in easily. Remember Jimmy Flanagan?”
“Yeah, he was my boyfriend for two years, so I was hardly closed off to him.”
“He was totally in love with you, but you . . . It was like it hurt you physically to tell him that you cared for him.”
“Yeah, well, he found someone who didn’t find it too hard pretty quickly after we broke up.”
“He was a big, gorgeous Irishman, he was never going to have to wait long. But what about Steve?”
“High school Steve? You’re using the fact I wasn’t ready to settle down with my high school boyfriend as evidence against me?”
“No, I get he had some weird ideas about getting married after graduation, but it’s like, it’s like you’re content to let them love you, but won’t let them get under your skin, like you’re afraid to.”
I swallowed. She was my sister; we were always close, but her words hit me hard. I felt it, that familiar cold, dense ball that always formed in my chest when this kind of stuff came up, particularly when it came from one of my boyfriends. They always seemed to want so much, no matter what I gave them, no matter how hard it was to give them what they wanted. I’d been to see psychologists, even they had been a bit bemused. My parents were happy together, and so were my Nan and Pa. My whole life I’d been surrounded by people who had healthy long-term relationships, yet when it came to me. . . .
“Why, Ash?” Jimmy had asked one evening. We’d been sitting on my bed, the dying light turning the sheets to a pale grey. Both of us had swollen eyes, faces reddened from crying. We were in mourning, our relationship was dying. We’d known it for a while. When I was the only one pulling away, it had been OK, as long as he was prepared to do the chasing. When he pulled away, when it was my turn to chase, I’d been notably absent. He kept it up, coming around less and less, though when he was here, it’d spark a strange kind of passion. We couldn’t seem to keep our hands off each other, fucking all day and night, only have him to walk out the door and not come back for days.
Because I forget you exist when you’re not here, I wanted to say to him. Because my skin comes alive when you touch me, but nothing else does. Because I have built intricate battlements around my heart, to keep everyone out, but I’m disappointed that you couldn’t work out a way through them. Because it’s over and there’s nothing we can do about it.
Instead, I just shrugged as the tears dropped onto the quilt covering my legs. He’d moved closer, enfolding me in his arms, swallowing me for a moment in that big muscular embrace, the warmth of his skin fighting to thaw me, but not able to. He let me go someti
me later and then let me go entirely. He left the flat and never came back.
I’d seen the psychologist a couple of months later. I’d seen Jimmy on the street with a gorgeous girl with long brown hair and bright-red lipstick, looking the picture of joy. He’d flinched at the sight of me. She noticed, she seemed so attuned to him and his reactions and came over to introduce herself. She wasn’t being bitchy or trying to lord anything over me. She didn’t know who I was until he introduced us, her eyes widening and I saw the moment of regret at approaching me flicker over her face. They told me of their engagement in the kind of hushed tones people use at the death of a loved one. I plastered a bright smile on my face, gave each of them a big hug and kiss as congratulations, then beat a hasty retreat. They didn’t try to stop me, but she watched me go for a moment, over his arm slung around her shoulders. She looked almost sorry for me.
“Ash, you’re going to have to decide this is something you want,” the psychologist had said.
What? I thought, therapy? A relationship? A cup of coffee, what?
“I can talk it through with you, give you some strategies for dealing with the anxieties you have about intimacy. . . .”
I have anxieties around intimacy? I thought, seems to me I have the opposite, I just don’t care enough.
“Ash?”
I looked into the older woman’s face. She expected something, her lifted brows, her gaze indicated it, but I had no idea what she wanted. Story of my life, I thought, dropping my eyes down to the expensive Turkish carpet. What am I doing? Why am I even here?
“Ash, is intimacy something you want?”
“I don’t know,” I croaked out.
I’d stopped going not long after that. Tess had been disappointed, but Mum and Dad were just glad I was getting out of bed and going to work again. No one had talked about Jimmy since then, though I knew Mum and Dad got an invite to the wedding. I’d seen the cream gilt invitation in the recycling bin when around one day.
