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“I was thanking her!” The lie flows easily while my heart hammers in my chest.
“I’ve told you to stay away from Julie.”
And I want to, but I don’t like being caught out like this, so I growl back, “She’s old enough to look after herself.”
“She’s young enough to be easily swayed.”
Trevor steps closer, his wide chest brushing mine. But that’s not all that is touching. Heat fills my cheeks as I’m sure he can feel my swelling cock.
Anger drains from his face, and in its wake, a knowing smirk appears. I’ve never been so mortified. I want to run away, but he’s blocking me. Caging me in with his wide shoulders and a push of his hips against mine. An embarrassed moan finds its way up my throat and no matter how much I fight it, my hips rock back.
“We shouldn’t…” I bring my hands up to push him away, but his hard chest doesn’t budge. Instead, he grips my wrists and brings my arms up against the wall.
“Shouldn’t what?” he whispers mockingly and grinds against me. The friction sends waves of heat through my groin and I gasp as I notice that he has hardened too.
I’ve never been with a man, never experimented or tested boundaries. This scares me, threatens what I know and what I find safe, yet I don’t fight back. Instead I welcome his thrusts that rub my aching cock against his. The jerk of my hips is instinctive, a wanton, unfamiliar need, clouding my mind.
Our puffed breaths are loud in the quiet room, lips so close but not touching. I step up on my toes, bring my groin higher to meet his thrusts better, my abs tight as I push my hips out. I swear quietly and my jaw goes slack as the new position puts more pressure on my cock, the tension building rapidly with every move.
The smirk is gone from Trevor’s face while his cheeks have turned rosy. A dark curl has escaped his ponytail and fallen over his forehead. I want to touch it, but my wrists are locked in his secure grip. I’m afraid of what I would do if they were free. This is safer.
A stuttered moan shows I’m close to the edge.
“Are you going to come for me?” Trevor’s breath fans over my lips. His hips pick up pace, increasing the friction.
My head falls back against the wall. “Don’t,” I beg, but for what I don’t know.
“It’s okay,” he pants. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
His hands flex around my wrists, and that’s when I feel it, that strange sense of being looked after, of not having to carry the burden. Tingling covers my scalp, then down my neck. I cry out, our groins smashed together, his cock jolting against mine through our clothes. My spine arches and my hips jerk, once, twice. I squeeze my eyes closed, and in Trevor’s secure grip, I cry out again. Wet heat spreads inside my jeans as I find my release. I gasp for air, my head fuzzy.
“That was hot, city boy.”
I blink and open my eyes.
Trevor’s gaze is hooded. He licks his lips and his chest moves rapidly. The pressure around my wrists releases as he lets go of my hands. Panic fills me. When he held me, I could blame him for my actions. But not anymore. What have I done?
Blue eyes scan my face. I tense and swallow hard. Before me, Trevor’s hooded gaze turns cold and his mouth twists into a mocking smirk. He steps back. He’s still hard, the outline of his impressive length clear as day against his trousers.
“Stay away from Julie.”
His parting words.
Then I’m alone.
7
The Heavens Open
This is the North Antrim Coast, the north tip of Northern Ireland, of course I didn’t expect there to be sunshine the whole time we were camping. But I had pictured sitting in the tent eating marshmallows with Adam while listening to the soothing patter of drops against the tent. I didn’t picture a wind that forces the outside tent wall to merge with the inside one and water running down inside the tent. Neither did I imagine the walls caving in and clinging ice cold and wet to my face and body.
The car has become our lifeboat. Our sleeping bags are wet and spread out to dry in the back. The thrill of being allowed to sit in the front seat has worn off, and I try to distract Adam by reading one of his favourite books inside this fogged-up little cave. But I struggle to be invested in the story. I’m such a failure. Adam will grow up with a pathetic excuse of a dad, one who doesn’t know if he’s coming or going.
I’m so lost. I wish I had friends I could talk to, but all my friends were Alison’s friends; I didn’t have a group of guys from school that I would go and watch football and have beers with; I’ve always tagged along with my girlfriends, their friends were mine, changing as I changed girlfriend. I’ve come to understand that it’s been part of my appeal – they never had to worry about what I did, never had to question my fidelity or commitment as I didn’t go out or party without them. I showered my girlfriends with attention and never gave them reasons to be jealous.
So now, friendless, I have no one to explain to me what the hell it means when you’ve been married to a woman for five years, and when it ends, the first thing you do is rub yourself off on a man. Maybe what’s confusing me the most, is the speed in which it happened. My erection was laughing at my claim of having a low sex drive and there was none of my famous control. No, Trevor took my power, controlled me in a way I’ve never been before.
Is this what women feel when I’m with them? I take control over them, let them drown in their own pleasure – there’s no give and take – I demand that I do all the giving. There’s satisfaction is seeing how they lose themselves, more satisfying than my own pleasure. Is that what happened with Trevor? He said he’d look after me, that he’d got me, and I could just give in.
