AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I know I kissed you, but I still fancy girls. Not Binita,” he hastily added, as I raised an eyebrow. “Not any girl in particular. But I definitely do.”
His eyebrows knitted. “You know how when you’re home alone—you know, when your parents are out and you’re watching a film? Or watchingBaywatchor something? Or a pop video with dancing girls?”
Or a pop video with a dancing Mark from Take That, but yeah, I got the gist.
“Well, you know what it’s like. You just feel a bit, I dunno, and there’s no one else around and you…well… you get off, don’t you?”
I snorted with laughter as he stared furiously at the steering wheel, his face suffused with colour. Prim Alex Valentine admitting he masturbated to hot, semi-naked girls on the telly was not adorable at all.
“I hope you don’t make a mess of your mum’s flowery sofa.”
“Fuck off,” he muttered, a tiny smile teasing the corner of his mouth.
Considering he’d just painted a fairly graphic and convincing picture of how attractive he found the opposite sex, reaching across and linking my fingers through his could be construed as a brave, even foolhardy, move. I did it anyway, and he didn’t seem to mind. Dusk had fallen; the dog walkers would have to detour and peer through the windows to see us.
“From what I’ve read, not all men know if they are gay or not,” I began. “I don’t mean the ones that hide it by marrying women. There are other ones, I just…I don’t think it’s always black and white. I read a book once, about a man who had girlfriends and boyfriends, and not because he was covering up being gay, but because he liked both. Maybe that’s you.”
I got the impression that explanation resonated with Alex. I’d given him food for thought, anyhow. His shoulders relaxed a fraction, his thumb rubbed ever so slightly over mine.
“But not you,” he mused, his eyes down at our joined hands.
“No, not me,” I agreed. “My days of snogging girls are finished.”
Neither of us spoke for a while.
“Is that the serious talk over?” In a charming and devastatingly irresistible fashion, I gave him my Brad Pitt smile.
“For now.” He smiled back.
We did that awkward thing that happens in the moments before two people who aren’t established as a couple find themselves on the brink of kissing. When you both know it’s coming but are still building yourself up for the lunge into your selected target’s personal space. When the air is full of static, and every rustle of clothing, every inhale and exhale feels ridiculously loud. When you’re not sure where to place your limbs, when you hope your belly doesn’t gurgle and your mouth isn’t too stale.
I lunged first, but Alex met me halfway. He must have spent part of the afternoon taking a crash course in kissing, because this kiss was awesome, with one of his warm hands hooked around the back of my neck, pliant lips opening with mine. My own hand landed on his thigh, and I slid it higher, hovering just below his groin, my desire to go further halted by Alex’s fingers applying light pressure to my wrist. I could live with that. The kissing itself had exceeded my wildest fantasies—his roughly growled words as we moved apart went a step beyond.
“Can you come over on Saturday night? My parents will be out at their ballroom dancing lesson. They usually go for a drink afterwards.”
With a quick nod (what fucking idiot would declinethatoffer?) I dived in for another taste. My hands obediently remained above waist height, although my body kind of wriggled across the gear stick. Alex accommodated me by pushing his seat back as far as it would go.
I busied myself with his mouth. Christ, even straddling him with the seat reclined felt damned awkward. As my head smacked into the roof, I felt his grin brushing my lips. “I’ve never kissed anyone in a car before,” I murmured.
“We might have to get used to it,” he whispered back.
I banged my head again. Simon and Tara had done this for years, perhaps there was a manual of handy tips out there I needed to know about. We’d steamed the windows up, at least ensuring zero chance of anyone discovering me squashed up against his hard dick. An experimental sly roll of my hips had Alex’s eyes flying open in alarm. With a snigger, I gave him my best jazz hands.
“I’m not touching you! Look! My hands are here!”
“I want you to touch me, it’s just that…”
He turned his head to the side, embarrassed.
“What?” I persisted.
“How many girls have you had proper sex with?”
Okay, so that was a bit random. “Three,” I countered. “No boys. Not yet. Fancy being the first?”
He ignored me. “And how many girls have you got off with?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Quite a few. Hang around Phil long enough and you get his cast-offs. But I’ve already told you, I only did it for show. And I was pissed, usually. I think I optimistically thought that if I did it often enough, I’d start enjoying myself. But I never did.”
