Fast And Loose

The next thing I felt, through my delirious haze, was something soft and wet, lapping at the sodden fabric. He pushed his tongue into every crevice, getting the lace barrier wetter and wetter, taking it all into his mouth in a bunch then releasing it to tease me some more. I was beginning to hate these knickers. But I was pretty sure he didn’t feel the same way.

‘All right,’ he said at last, hoarse but determined. ‘Tell me if it hurts, OK?’

I caught a breath and stared at him. But he meant my ankle.

He didn’t even take the knickers off to fuck me.

He pushed the gusset aside and slid his cock inside, fast and smooth, and exactly the way I needed it. My unsprained ankle found its way to his shoulder and I lay in a slightly twisted position, my bottom half off the bed, giving him the best angle of penetration I possibly could.

He used that angle to the fullest, thrusting hard, using his fingers to work at my nipples or my clit whenever he wanted to see my face change. He watched me all the way through, so intently that I shut my eyes in the end. I gave myself up to the feeling of helpless ravishment. I was his to take, and he took me.

I don’t know if my ankle hurt or not. I only knew that furtive, needy creep towards climax, letting him build it inside me, helping him stoke my fire with little movements and silent hints. He read me perfectly. He knew what turned me on.

I’d been wrong about him.

When I was so close there was no chance of turning back, I opened my eyes for a peek at him. His sweat-sheened determination helped me over the edge. His utter focus on what he was doing to me would stay with me, helping me through the dark and lonely nights to come.

I fell helplessly into his ownership. That was how it felt, to come with him inside me. Like being owned and known in a way I could never take back.

‘That’s it, that’s it,’ he whispered with a ferocity matched by his thrusts. ‘Got you now.’

Then he came too, his face at once so wild and so vulnerable that it pierced my heart.

He stayed inside me for a while and we just held on to each other, waiting for our bodies to stop falling and our heads to clear.

‘Mm,’ he said, his eyes dazed and half-closed, as he pulled out and flopped beside me. ‘That hit the spot.’ He kissed my ear. ‘How’s your ankle?’

‘Ankle? Oh, yeah.’ I was suddenly aware again of the pain, though it was muted now, and seemed far away.

He was amused. ‘You’d forgotten about it?’

‘I think I had. They should prescribe you on the National Health.’

He smiled, running his hand over my fishnetted curves again.

‘You too,’ he said. ‘Take three times daily after meals.’

‘I think I could handle that,’ I said.

He sat up and put his hand around my ankle.

‘It needs bandaging,’ he said. ‘Have you got anything?’

‘Not bandages per se,’ I said. ‘A dressing-gown cord is as close as it gets.’

‘That’d do.’

The robe was hanging on the door. He took the satin belt from its loops and wrapped it slowly and carefully around the swollen area, down to my heel.

I shut my eyes and imagined he was tying me up for real, about to hobble me or bind me to the bedpost. He would keep me spreadeagled here, ready for sex whenever he felt the urge.

‘Is that all right?’ he asked. ‘Too tight?’

‘A little tighter would be fine,’ I said.

I opened my eyes to watch him pull it taut and let out a shuddering breath, excited again, despite my post-coital limpness.

‘Did that hurt?’ he asked, all concern.

‘No,’ I said unevenly. ‘’Sfine.’

One side of his mouth twitched up, but his brow was furrowed, as if trying to solve me like a riddle.

‘Good,’ he said.

I knew I was blushing. I felt I’d given something away.

‘Right, well, I’m going to get you a bag of frozen peas or something, to put against it, and then you’re going to turn on your computer and tell me all about this blogger of yours.’

Oh, bugger! He was supposed to have forgotten about that. The mind-blowing sex had failed to blow enough of his mind.

He helped me up from the bed, supported me over to my desk and sat me in the chair. My knickers felt cold and slimy and the fuzzy upholstery of the cushion prickled my sensitive skin. My hold-ups were clinging damply to my legs and I didn’t dare turn my head far enough to catch my reflection in the dressing-table mirror.

He dealt with the condom and wrapped himself in my beltless robe, then disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

What was I going to do? Could I make something up? But what? Couldn’t I just say it was a news blog or a fashion blog or a…

He came back in with a bag of Bird’s Eye’s finest and rubbed them against my ankle.

‘Christ!’ I yelped, kicking away as fast as I could. ‘It’s freezing!’

‘You seem surprised,’ he said, laughing at me.

‘I’m not – it’s just…wouldn’t a bit of coldish water do?’

He rolled his eyes and left the room again, giving me a bit more time to play with.

A fashion blog? But then it would seem weird to be so concerned about its disappearance. And if I spun some yarn about a news blogger disappearing, he’d jump all over it and want to investigate.

Would it be so difficult to tell him the truth?

He returned half a minute later with a basin of cool water. I put my foot in it and he pulled up my dressing-table stool and sat on it, hands on his knees, leaning towards me with clear and eager expectation.

‘Well, then,’ he said. ‘You promised me something.’

‘It’s nothing really,’ I said, fidgeting with the keyboard.

He shook his head sternly.