Page 74 of Marley
“Well, here’s the thing. You sorta threw up everywhere, and I do mean everywhere; in the back of the car, over your posh party frock, over me?”
“Oh fuck.” She cried, burying her face in my chest.
“Again, feel free to just call me Marley.” That earned me a dig in the ribs from her dainty little fist.
“So, did you undress me? Please tell me you called Jimmie or George to do that.”
“I called Jim.” I reassured her and felt her relax against me instantly, but I know it’s not gonna last.
“Thank fuck for that.” She sighed out the words in relief.
“And she stayed on the line while I stripped you off, showered you, washed your hair, and dressed you again, for the second time.”
She makes loud, over exaggerated sobbing noises. “Noooo. Noooo. Why did I get in such a state? What happened? The last thing I remember is us dancing.”
“Yeah, and then you told me to get you drunk and that you might think about letting me shag ya.”
“Well whooo hooo, go you. You get top marks for getting me drunk, Rock Star.” She said sarcastically, her face still buried against my chest.
“Thanks.” I told her and she held up her hand for me to high five her, and I did. Then I did something that I’d never, ever done with a girl before. I laced my fingers through hers and held her hand.
My dick stirred and I cringed. “Ash?”
“What?”
“My arse is going numb and my back hurts. You ready to go back to bed? I’ll make you a cup of tea or coffee, and some toast if you feel up to it.”
“The thought of making me breakfast is what’s making your dick hard right now, Rock Star?”
Busted!
My mouth dried up again and I decided to try this untested concept of total honesty with a girl.
“No, I’ve got a hard-on because you’re sitting in my lap with your tits pushed against me and your arse pressing against my dick. And also because you’re fucking gorgeous.”
“I’m also not fucking stupid,” she mumbled from my chest.
“What? I can’t understand what you’re saying with your face down there. Although, if you were to dip lower, I’d understand perfectly?every fucking word.”
“Omit eth.” Is what I thought she’d said.
“Nd, er a king ervert.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re saying down there, baby, but if you’re feeling a bit better, I’m gonna stand you on your feet. You should drink the rest of that water, and feel free to use my toothbrush. Then either come find me while I make us some breakfast, or wait in bed and I’ll bring it up to you.”
I stood her up on her feet, thanking that Erectimus bloke again that she just stared down at the tiled floor, her arms wrapped around her.
“Why the fuck won’t you look at me?” I asked her.
“Vomit breath,” she said more clearly.
“Ah, that’s what you were saying. What was the second part that I didn’t quite catch?” I asked, now fully aware of what it was she’d called me.
“I said, ‘And you’re a fucking pervert.’” I smiled, as I could imagine her blushing, and I really wanted to see that. Her skin looked so pale this morning that it’d be good to see some colour on her cheeks, like, really good ... and now I’m getting hard again. Fuck you, dick gods.
“Well, I think the fact that I showered you and changed you into clean clothes, twice, I might fucking add, without once touching you inappropriately, just goes to prove that I’m not a pervert.”
She finally looks up at me, her blue-brown eyes still glassy.
