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“Is she insane?” Paul exclaims.
“Yeah, must be, or else the reason he was such a shite to me was her. I don’t know. But I do know he was hung up on her. He’d make these little comments about the past sometimes even though he knew hearing about her would hurt me. I don’t know. I was a poor substitute, maybe.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
He moves across the room, refilling his glass, then coming over to do mine.
Crouching in front of me, he puts his glass on the window ledge and stares up into my eyes, his hands on my bare knees.
“Why’d he even move over to the UK when he seems to hate us all so much?” His eyes are laughing as he speaks. “Why?”
“He came over here to try and get his PhD finished, he said. But he brought the same problems here he had at home: arrogance, attitude, that vicious tongue and a chip on his shoulder.”
“And he dragged you into it.”
I breathe deeply. “Well, now I know men can’t be trusted, don’t I? That half the time, they’re only with you because they’re thinking about someone else and you’ll do for the time being.”
I turn my head so he can’t see my eyes. I try to focus on the lush green grounds outside and the beauty of this hot summer’s day.
But then he takes my hand, kisses my palm and slides his fingers between mine. I can’t control my breathing; his touch is everything to me. I close my eyes and cover my mouth with my right hand, the one he doesn’t have hold of.
He takes my left hand and pulls it against his cheek so I can feel his thick beard pressing against the palm he just kissed. I’m smiling behind my hand, desperate for more.
He urges my fingers into his hair, breathing louder when I grab it between my fingers.
His arms scoop me out of the chair and before I know it, he’s pulling me to my feet and towards the bed. We fall onto it in a tangle, our mouths open, tongues twining and hot.
“Oh, fuck,” I gasp, the moment he sticks his hand inside my dress and pulls my nipple.
He begins edging my dress up my thighs and I unbuckle him, pop open his button and tear down his zipper. Without flair, I push down his underwear and pull his erection into my clenched fist.
My god, he’s rock hard and the heat of him… it’s pure desire. It’s beautiful. Ian was never this hard. He had to work up to it for hours. Maybe he wasn’t very fit, or maybe I didn’t do it for him, but for Paul I seem to have what he wants – or else he’s extremely horny, all the damn time.
He slides the zip down on my floaty dress and pulls the straps down my shoulders.
“Fuck,” he groans loudly, pulling down the cups of my bra and sucking my nipple into his mouth.
He’s busy sucking so I pull my knickers to the side, position myself just right and direct his cock to my opening.
“Now, Paul. Fuck, now.”
He pushes straight up inside me, grinding into me balls deep. Pressing his nose to mine, he stares into my eyes.
“Lily.”
“Yeah?”
“God, you’re so wet.”
I was expecting him to say something else, but okay.
He devours my mouth, fucking me savagely at the same time. He was a little nervous at Christmas, but now, that’s nowhere to be found. Maybe with Ian out of the picture…
He plants his fists in the mattress and starts to use me. I like it. I want to be screwed. I put my hands on his arse and delight in the way it’s bouncing up and down. My head’s cushioned by the pillows otherwise I’d be knocking against the headboard painfully, he’s fucking me that powerfully, my hips jigging back and forth.
I push the jacket off his back and throw it to the floor, sticking my hands up his shirt and holding his back muscles.
I’m just starting to enjoy touching him when that pressure begins to build, deep inside me, that humming… that urgent pleasure-pain thing. I hold my hands at his hips, head tossed back, my hips arching towards his as I begin to contract and flood around him.
