Effie and Max look up, then look at each other. “They’re so embarrassing,” Effie says.
“That's right,” I say. “And I fully intend to embarrass you every day until you're grown up.”
“You already do.” Effie sighs, world-weary and resigned.
On Sunday it's difficult to hide from Effie how much I long for her to be gone. Anders knows my timetable and is aware that Mike's access visit could give us two precious hours together. He is waiting in a nearby coffee shop for a text to say the coast is clear. But Mike is not here. Time drags on, and when he's half an hour later than his normal pick-up time, I decide there’s no hope he'll turn up. I'm about to send Anders the bad news when the doorbell sounds.
As I open the door, the sight of Mike standing there makes me ecstatic. Effie huffs past me, plainly cross but holding her tongue for once.
“Where are we going today?” she asks her father.
Mike doesn't take Effie back to his place. Not since she was little and got into his weed stash. One emergency hospital admission later, he'd learned a valuable lesson. As had I. I don’t trust him to simply be more careful, so we agreed he takes herout to other places: soft play centres, fast-food joints, and in better weather, parks and playgrounds. Today it's the cinema.
I wait five minutes to make sure nothing's been forgotten, then send my text. Another five minutes and Anders is at the door. I let him in and he crosses the threshold, scoops me into his arms and kicks the door shut behind him. I giggle as he hunts for my bedroom.
When he finds it, he lays me down gently in the centre of the bed like I'm the most precious package in the world. We've only limited time, so I expect to get down to business right away. But I'm wrong. He kicks off his shoes and crawls onto the bed until he is straddling me, a knee either side of my body. Then he slowly and carefully undresses me. As each item of clothing is removed, his hands smooth over my skin, learning my body, and his mouth follows.
I close my eyes and relax into the sensations. I want to purr like a cat. It's been so long since anyone has touched me like this or even held me for comfort. A little tear leaks from the corner of my eye. Anders must notice, because the next thing I know his thumb is wiping it away and his lips are warming the dampness.
“Hush.” His whisper tickles my ear. “I've got you.”
But all that happens is a second tear trickles out, and then another. And then I'm weeping, tears of self-pity. For the years of loneliness, for the years of grind, for the life I should have led. Anders's arms come around me, and he holds me until I calm.
“I'm sorry,” I squeak. “I don't know where that came from.”
“Hey, don't ever apologise for how you feel. You don't have to be strong all the time, Cora. Not with me.” His fingers move over my face and into my hair, and each pass seems to wipe away a corner of my melancholy until finally I open my eyes. Anders's blue ones are inches from my own. They hold me as strongly as his arms, with messages of concern, of support, of affection.
“Thank you,” I murmur, the words barely audible.
The corner of Anders's lips twitch. “For what?”
Effie would give him a list, but I at least know he's dismissing my concern with a shrug.
“Bet this is not how you expected your booty call to go,” I say.
His finger moves between us. “This is not a booty call. This is just time spent with you, Cora. We can spend it however you want.”
“And you don't get a say?”
“I dictate your life at work. It's only fair that outside of that, you get to steer the ship.”
“And if I wanted you to kiss me?”
“Then I’m at your service.”
His lips land on mine, and every shred of misery evaporates. My hand slides down the skin of his chest to his jeans, still on his hips. I tug at his waistband and he gets the hint. One hand undoes the button, another the zip, and we're both sliding his clothes off. His dick is soft, but when I bend my head and take him in my mouth, I feel the immediate surge. Male physiology is astounding. He swells swiftly and I laugh around his cock. He flops back on the bed and moans. When I swirl my tongue over his head, he groans, “Fuck me, Cora.” Which is precisely what I had in mind.
When I see his fists tighten on the duvet, I know he's close. I lift off, raise my hips, and slide onto him. He gasps and immediately slams me onto my back. Holding still, he counts the seconds out loud, then his head dips as his mouth finds my nipples. After a while, we start to move together. I come just before him, the clench of my climax triggering the release of his. It’s perfect.
He collapses onto the bed beside me. “Every time,” he pants. “You surprise me. I'm in awe of you.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
He gathers me closer. His forefinger traces around my breasts in a figure of eight. “I adore your body,” he says. “Your breasts are flawless.”
I don't think there is a woman alive who is perfectly happy with her breasts, or her lips, or her nose, chin, or forehead. But in this moment, I wouldn't change mine for the world.
“I can't work out which part of you is my favourite,” he says. “Your gorgeous brown eyes, pert little nose, or your tempting lips. Or maybe it's the way my hands can hold your hips. I think perhaps it's all of you. There's not one part I dislike.”
