Page 95 of Sleep

“Just do it,” I whispered. “Fuck me hard. Don’t hold back. Make me feel you. All the way.”

“You’re beautiful,” they whispered back.

“I need you to do this.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Then they gently pulled out and slammed back in.

31. Mabel

“How are you feeling?”

I had to ask, but to be honest, my head was such a mush I could barely form the words, and I sounded sloshed.

I was still wearing the bra, even though I’d lost the trunks somewhere in our wild love-making. I’d ended up flipping him over and taking him from behind, standing up at the edge of the bed, bruising his hips as I gave him my all.

It had been so long since I’d done this, let myself go completely and floating in this weird haze of arousal where nothing mattered yet everything did. Where his muffled roars into the pillow had driven me to madness.

Madness. What a great destination that was.

His fingers were still playing with my bra strap, his mouth having deposited a small trail of drool on my chest.

“I think I have a lot of kinks. I never knew.”

“It takes a lot of practice to figure things out. Sometimes things I think will turn me on turn out to be total turn-offs.”

“I love lace. Especially black lace.”

“Good to know, because I like it too.”

“And I love you.”

I would never tire of hearing those words. I’d had them said to me before, of course, but hearing them from a man like Jonny?

He was still plastered to my front, like a needy child. He was, in a way, and it was my job to mother him, something I did gladly. An honour and…

Good grief, Mabel. I really had it bad. Luckily, so did he.

“I really love what we have here,” I whispered into his hair. “All this honesty. It makes things so easy. No games. No power struggles. No stupid chest-puffing ridiculous trying to woo each other. We’re just us.”

“I told you.” His voice was gravelly, forcing him to swallow gently between sentences. “I’m not someone you have to fight for, because I’m yours. I was yours from the first time I saw those orange trousers.”

“You have a thing for those too, don’t you?”

“Can you wear them to the Christmas party? Please say you’ll come. I want to walk in holding your hand. I never have anyone with me. For once, I could, and I would… God, please, Mabel. Come with me to my awfully dreary Christmas party and save me from standing around getting drunk on bad wine and mishearing people and making a complete fool out of myself. We only have to stay an hour, show our faces. Then afterwards, I will take you anywhere you want to go to make up for it. A treat.”

“A date? You’re taking me on a date?”

“A proper one.” He got up on his elbow, grimacing.

“Darling, you need to go shower, clean yourself up. Otherwise, you’ll wake up all sticky and uncomfortable.”

“And sore. I can still feel you.”

“The joys of rampant bunny-fucking sex.”

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