He slid her hands out from under his jumper and kissed her fingers, his lips grazing her knuckles one by one. Her head tipped back at the unexpected pleasure of such a simple, but wildly intimate, gesture. When his lips left her hand, Netta shrugged off the cardigan and let it drop to the floor. His thumbs drew slow circles over her hip bones and she lifted her arms, inviting him to take her T-shirt off. He bunched the fabric in his hands and pulled her to him, kissing her again, before sliding it slowly over her head and throwing it over his shoulder, drawing a sharp breath as his gaze settled on her bare breasts.
‘Oh my God, Netta.’
She took his hand and guided it, the warmth of his palm on her breast sending heat through her body. He grabbed her bottom, pulling her in close to him, kissing her hard.
‘Take this off,’ she said, tugging at his jumper. ‘I want to see you.’
He peeled it off, revealing his torso—a rippled canvas painted with tattoos. Netta traced her fingers along them.
‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ His eyes searched hers for a green light.
‘Yes,’ she said, not breaking eye contact as she tugged the pants past his hips and let them drop to the floor. He stepped out of them, his skin glowing in the firelight, and pulled Netta in closer. His hands followed her spine south and slid beneath her skirt and knickers, pushing them both down, his hands cupping her cheeks as the last of her clothes fell away, leaving her naked in his arms. She moaned as he squeezed her butt and bit her gently on the neck, his fingers trailing further down and under, finding her ready.
A growl vibrated from his chest. ‘Fuck, Netta. I want you so much.’
He kissed her shoulder, her collarbone, his breath hot on her skin. He lay her back on the couch, leaning over her, moving his lips to her neck, her breasts, her stomach, while his hands ran slowly up her thighs from her knees to her hips. His mouth settled between her legs and she arched her back as his tongue found her.
‘Oh, God, I’m already too close,’ she said after a few moments, already nearing the brink, her hands in his hair, pushing him gently away. ‘Have you got anything?’
‘Don’t move a muscle; there might be something in the guest cupboard.’ He kissed her and disappeared to the bathroom, returning with a foil packet. He tore it open and took the condom out. ‘You’re sure about this?’
She nodded. ‘Put it on.’
He knelt before her and ran his tongue along her one more time, slowly, feather-lightly, before sliding the condom on. She pulled his face to hers and kissed him as he pushed himself inside her. His weight pinned her to the couch and she wrapped her legs tightly around his hips as they moved against hers, his chest grazing her breasts. Netta tipped her head back in pleasure and he pressed his lips into the hollow under her jaw.
‘I want to be on top,’ she whispered.
He slid his arm under her back and flipped them over, sitting on the couch with Netta over him. He clasped her hips in his hands as she rode him, his head tipped over the back of the couch momentarily before meeting her gaze.
‘Oh fuck, you’re incredible,’ he said. ‘I can’t hold on much longer.’
‘Me either.’
Netta’s face crumpled with her crescendo as Mo gripped her hips, the low, guttural sound escaping from him telling her he was right there with her. She melted into him and he wrapped his arms around her, his head resting on her shoulder.
‘That was …’
‘Mind-blowing.’
‘Yeah.’ She exhaled into his neck, enjoying the feeling of his fingertips tracing languid circles on her back before she moved to sit next to him, curling into his side. He dragged one of the blankets off the back of the couch, arranging it over her body and stroking her hair.
‘I feel dizzy,’ Netta said. It was a monumental understatement—she felt chemically altered. As though her cells had shifted and evolved into some blissfully higher state of being. Thirty-nine years old, and never once had sex felt likethat.
‘I do too,’ he said. ‘But I’d better go and deal with this situation.’ He stood, a hand over his groin, and disappeared to the bathroom.
When he reappeared, he was wearing a grin and a bathrobe, a second one laid across his hands like a sacred offering. ‘We’ve just had sex on their couch, so we may as well wear their dressing gowns too.’
Netta’s laugh morphed into a guilty groan. ‘Oh God, poor Rhona. Would she die if she knew?’ She accepted a robe and stood to slide it on.
‘Nah.’ Mo smiled. ‘I kinda get the feeling she’s been hoping something might happen with us.’ Mo sat and reached for the wine bottle. ‘Another?’
‘I feel like I need something stronger after that.’
‘I’ll go see what they’ve got hidden away.’
As Mo walked out of the lounge, Netta closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Nothing would ever be the same after that. Nothing.
For better or worse, the sliding door had shut behind her.
