“You’ll get them in Buchanan Street.”
“Fine.” He pressed a finger to my clit and circled it.
“Rory,” I gasped. “God, that’s so good.”
He smiled. “Open your legs, babe. Let me feel your wetness. Give me access.”
I did and he lowered his lips to my neck. His kisses already drove me insane, and his fingers had a magic touch. I rocked into his hand, moaning his name. When he pushed two fingers into me, bursts of pleasure shot through me, and I raced towards my orgasm.
“Don’t stop,” I urged, riding his fingers.
“Never, babe. You look fucking gorgeous. Come for me.” He bent his fingers slightly and moved his thumb faster, making little circles around my clit. I strained against him, imagining him naked, on top of me, his dick entering me, his lips around my nipple. I imagined him over me, stroking his cock hard and fast, his rhythm faltering and then him coming over my tits and—
“Oh God. Rory. Fuck. I’m coming.”
“Let it go. Come for me.”
I clung to him as the wave of pleasure washed over me and my internal walls clenched around his fingers. I struggled to make sense of the difference between my imagination and reality.
The kitchen came back into focus; Rory fully clothed, his fingers, not his cock; me coming, not him.
I swallowed as I tried to catch my breath and glanced at Rory.
He licked his fingers and grinned.
“What?” I asked.
“I like the new hair-do.”
“Hair-do?” I furrowed my brow as best as I could in my post-orgasmic bliss.
“You shaved it all off down there. I like.”
“You do?”
“Mm hmm. Though it does mean I need new material to tease you with. No more jokes about ginger pubes.”
I lifted my hand and gave him a rather weak slap on the back of the head. “Shut up.”
“I need to inspect this though.” He kneeled and pressed a soft kiss to my sensitive pussy.
I gasped.
“Jesus, Lace, I didn’t think you could get any sexier, but you just did.”
“You didn’t like the hair?”
“I did but a change is as good as a rest. This is sexy as fuck.” He pressed another soft kiss to my pussy and stood up, picking up the jacket he’d tossed on the floor at some point after I’d started kissing him. “I need to go home and do something about this boner you’ve caused before I’m hospitalised with a bad case of blue balls.”
I bit my lip. “I could ...”
“No. I said I’d give you pleasure, and I hope I have. I’m not nineteen anymore. I know when a woman isn’t ready.”
“I was ready that night,” I assured him.
“You cried afterwards.”
“Because it was nice, and even though it was sore, it wasn’t the screaming agony I had been expecting. I’d built it up in my head to be this awful thing, and you made it great. After you made me come with your hand, I knew it had to be you who did the deed. I wanted it so much. I knew what I was doing, and I never had any regrets at the time or since.”
He refused to meet my gaze as he raised a hand to scratch the back of his neck. “I thought your crying meant you regretted it. You’ve no idea ...” he started.
I threw my arms around him and hugged him. “I wish I’d known you felt that way. I’d have explained sooner. I’m sorry.”
“It was a misunderstanding. It’s fine.”
I stepped back and smiled. “I had no complaints about any of our relationship until the night you left. That’s why it hurt so much. And it’s why I can’t trust you with my heart again. This was fun, Rory, but it’s also where it ends.”
He flashed me a soft smile. “We’ll see.”
Chapter 12
Lacey
“HI SWEETHEART. IT’S Mum. I was calling to let you know we booked the Hilton for Olivia and David’s wedding. I hope you’re being good, and you haven’t seen that boy again. Bye for now.”
That was the message left on my mobile when I got in from work the next day. I sighed and tied a knot in the rubbish bag in my bedroom, deciding to take it out to the wheelie bin. I’d put the knickers Rory had ripped off me in there, and they were lying on the top, taunting me—reminding me what a fool I was.
I needed my bestie.
“Hey hon,” came Olivia’s cheery voice through the phone. “How’s things? Rory tells us you met up and changed the hen and stag dos.”
“Yeah. Is that okay?”
“I guess it’s the job of the maid of honour and best man, so I can’t complain. As long as it’s not too expensive. Not all my buddies are vets, you know.”
“It’s pretty cheap, and people don’t have to come to all the activities.”
“That’s what Rory said.”
I sat on the side of my bed, placed the rubbish bag on the floor, and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Oh, Liv, I slipped up.”
“With the hen do?”
“No, with Rory.”
“What did you do?”
“I let him do stuff to me.”
“Like? I need more info than that.”
God, what to say to describe it. “Um, I let him make me come.”
“With hands, mouth, toys? Was this in the house, out in the street, in a bar?”
“At my flat with his hands.”
“Is that all?”
I frowned. “What do you mean ‘is that all’?” I stood and started pacing my bedroom. “He’s my ex. I’m in love with him. I mean, I was in love with him.”
“Woah. That was some Freudian slip, doll.”
“It wasn’t a Freudian slip. I misspoke.”
“Why can’t you be with him? Because he fucked up years ago?”
“He broke my heart. My mum would never forgive me if I got back with him, and my brother hates him for what he did to me. Did you know Jonas saw him once in the Art Galleries and had to be hauled off him? Jonas was nearly arrested, and it was only because Rory spoke up for him and refused to press charges that Jonas didn’t end up with a police record. It can’t work. Plus, I don’t trust him. No one I care about does.”
“I do. David does. We know him now. We can’t claim to understand why he broke your heart, but he seemed awfully confused at the time.”
“No, Liv. I can’t do it. I won’t. I can’t put myself through it again. Oh hell, I have another call coming through. Gotta go. It’s probably my mum.”
“Think about what I said.”
“Yeah, fine.”
I hung up and answered the call without looking at who it was.
“Lace, I need you to save my life.”
“Rory?” I asked.
“Aye, of course. Who did you think would be calling from my number?”
“I ... never mind. What can I do for you?”
“How’s your French?”
“Passable. Why?”
“It’s careers week in school, and we’re doing a cross-curricular careers thing for the second years. I had a guy lined up for the day after tomorrow—a doctor—to come in and talk to the kids in French about his job. And now he’s sick. Gallbladder apparently.”