‘Brad’s gay, Will.’
He raises an eyebrow. ‘Wow. That boy is full of surprises.’
I throw the towel on the worktop and slump down in the chair across from him.
‘I hate that I can’t stop thinking about you,’ he says, rubbing his forehead.
‘Yeah? Well, I hate that you finished my wine.’
‘I’m serious!’ he exclaims. ‘You’re justthere… in my head… all the bloody time!’
‘Why are you yelling at me?’
‘Because none of this is fair!’ Now he’s flailinghisarms around. I’m tempted to pass him the dish towel.
‘Who said life was fair?!’ I ask, now yelling back. I move from the table and take sanctuary again in the kitchen. ‘Is it fair that I finally met someone really great at the wrong time? Is it fair that I’m now closer to death than to living happily ever after? Is it fair that I’m about to completely undermine everything I’ve just said for the past twenty minutes?’
As Will locks eyes with me, it becomes clear what’s about to happen. He stands and makes his way to the kitchen, pushing me up against the worktop.
‘I can’t stop thinking about you either,’ I say softly. ‘How is that fair?’
We pause for a moment, each waiting for the other to see sense, to call it off, but that doesn’t happen. Seconds later, Will’s mouth is on mine, his hands pulling open my robe while I grapple with his T-shirt. He kisses with such intensity that my knees buckle and the faster he breathes, the weaker I get.
‘Here?’ he asks, almost in a whisper. ‘Or in the bedroom?’
I want to say bedroom – better lighting, more space, doesn’t smell of pasta – but I don’t want to move.
‘Here,’ I reply, ‘or both. I don’t care, just do it.’
As my robe hits the floor, he spins me around and kisses my neck before stepping back while undoing his jeans.
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ I hear him say. ‘Those shorts… are you kidding me? As if I wasn’t hard enough.’ He grabs my hips and pulls me into him. I feel what he’s talking about through his underwear. As much as I want him to pound me into oblivion, if he does, it’s going to be awful. I wish they made tiny airbags for the cervix; I’d be a lot calmer about the impending collision.
‘Wait,’ I begin, reaching back to pause him. ‘It’s just…’
‘I’ll go slow,’ he reassures me as his fingers creep inside my satin shorts. God, I feel like some virginal sixteen-year-old. My vagina isn’t unchartered territory, I’ve had a kid! I’ve had dicks of all shapes and sizes. Still, there’s nothing like a particularly large knob to both excite and terrify even the most seasoned shagger. But I need this. I need him.
Damn, even his fingers are thick.
He removes my top before his weight presses me down on to the kitchen counter, his breath on my neck as he moves my legs apart. When he does push inside me a little, I gasp and grab the edge of the worktop.
‘You OK?’
‘Hell yes. Keep going.’
He works himself in slowly, one hand on my hip, the other on my shoulder and although I appreciate that he’s holding back, I need more. When I push back on him until he’s fully inside, we both moan like a couple of sex-deprived fiends. He grabs my breasts and swears loudly as we take turns being in control. Eventually I submit and allow him to slam me and although it doesn’t last long, I finish first with Will seconds behind.
We both stand there for a second, sticky and squashed against each other until my legs admit defeat and I need to sit down. I quietly pick up my robe and move into the living room.
Will puts his pants back on and sits in the kitchen, watching me deal with the wet patch that’s now forming in my robe.
‘Shit, we should have used something. Sorry, I got carried away.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I reassure him. ‘I have an implant. I’m covered. The last thing I need is another rug rat, draining my bank balance… oh, that was really insensitive, I’m sorry.’
He smiles. ‘It’s fine. Yeah, I want kids but not just with any old rando… shit, I didn’t mean… you’re not just any —’
I giggle as he starts to go red. ‘I know what you meant.’
