Leaning forward, I closed the gap between us. Melding our lips together, she moaned against my mouth, the vibrations sending tingles of pleasure over my skin.
Running one hand over the back of my neck, Lacey tangled her fingers in the back of my hair and held me against, her. She ran her tongue over my bottom lip, and I parted them to allow her entry as I began thrusting in and out of her again.
She kissed me harder, urging me on, and I ripped away from her with a groan.
I needed to fuck her properly, and I couldn’t do that leaning over.
I picked up the ferocious rhythm of before, our breathing ragged as we battered the door and raced each other to the finish.
Her wet heat surrounded my steely length as it pistoned in and out of her.
When her murmurs became profanities, I rested my forehead on the door so my mouth skimmed her ear.
“Come for me, baby. You love my monster cock pumping in and out of your wet pussy. You need it. You want my cum, don’t you? You take me so deep. Now you need to come for me. Scream my name. You’re there, aren’t you?”
“Rory, please.”
“What do you need?”
“Deeper, harder.”
Was the thirty-one-year-old Lacey as nimble as the twenty-five-year-old Lacey had been?
I hooked one arm under one knee, then the other arm under the other knee, raising them and changing the angle. She widened her legs, and I pressed my hands against the door.
“Mmm good ... sooo good,” she murmured.
I pummelled deeper and harder, thinking of things to stave off my own climax. When she started to invoke the name of God, I looked down at her in her sexy dress bunched up around her hips, her red pouty lips with the lipstick smeared, and her cleavage still intact but red with exertion. A tingling radiated out from the base of my spine. She had to go soon because I couldn’t hold off for ever.
“RORY! RO-O-O-O-RY!”
My own orgasm barrelled down my spine, and all my muscles tightened as cum shot, then spewed, out of me. Rocking slowly as our orgasms let up their hold on us, I emptied the last drops of cum into Lacey, then carefully moved my hands so I could carry her into my bedroom before we both landed on the floor.
Collapsing beside her, my eyelids became heavy. I tried to fight it, but that had been a strong orgasm and sleep pulled me under.
WHEN I WOKE THE BED was empty.
I sat up and jumped off the bed, hauling my jeans into place. I glanced around at the empty room. My heartbeat increased as my hands became clammy. I needed my phone, I needed to apologise.
I entered the room that was both living room and kitchen and froze. Lacey was on the sofa, drinking from a mug and watching TV.
“You’re awake. Do you want a drink?” she asked.
“What’re you having?” I asked, trying for nonchalance as I exhaled in an attempt to stop the blood from pounding in my ears.
“Tea. I made a pot since I thought you’d wake up soon. I just woke up myself.”
“You fell asleep?”
“Yeah, of course. That was ... well ... you were there.”
“Yeah. It was something special for sure.” I poured the tea while throwing glances back at her. She looked comfortable sitting on the sofa in her pyjamas, her knees pulled up in front of her and her arms wrapped around them, cradling a cup of tea like old times.
I picked up my mug and sat down beside her. “I guess we had the talk about what this is in a roundabout way, and we’re just casual.”
She frowned over her mug. “I don’t recall having this conversation.”
“It’s what you told Maureen. Your mum, I mean. I’ve had my first name terms revoked.”
She chuckled. “Sorry. My mum reminds me of a song I heard recently. It’s by a country singer called Ingrid Andress. It’s about a girl taking her boyfriend back to meet her parents and the chorus says that her parents fall in love faster than she does, so you break more than one heart if you leave.” She glanced at her mug. “I guess my parents are a bit like that. Mum took you into her heart, and I think you broke it when you walked away. And Dad did a lot of firsts with you, so he feels he wasted them on you because they didn’t feel as special when he did them with Jonas. I think he feels like you robbed him of some of his father and son moments, which he wouldn’t have felt if we were now married with three kids, a dog, and white picket fence.”
“Are you saying I need to seduce your parents as well as you?”
She bit her lip, trying to hide her smile. “Not the way you seduce me. But honestly, Rory, I have no idea where this will lead. I quite like what I’ve seen of the grown-up Rory, but you have a lot of trust to rebuild. And not just with me.”
I grinned. “I have natural charm. I’ll win your parents back around.”
“It’s not your charm that’s the problem.”
“The trust will take time, I guess. I wonder if there is anything we can do while the trust is earned?” I took the tea out of her hand and tugged on her pyjama bottoms. She lifted her backside for me, and I slid the material down her legs.
Within moments, I had my face buried in her pussy, Lacey had her fingers curled in my hair, and she was rutting against my tongue on the way to her second orgasm of the evening.
Chapter 18
Lacey
THE NIGHT BEFORE THE wedding, Olivia and I were staying at the Hilton—my treat—and the boys were staying at their own flat. My phone pinged.
Rory: Miss you.
Me: Don’t get sentimental.
Rory: I mean I miss your body snuggled up to mine. I was trying not to be a dick.
Me: That’s okay.
Rory: Your folks think you’re done with me, don’t they?
I didn’t answer. He could work it out. I’d been meeting up with my parents for dinner after work all week, since they arrived early for the wedding, and then spending the night with Rory at either my place or his. The two worlds never merged.
My phone pinged again a minute later.
Rory: Goodnight, Lace.
Me: I’ll see you tomorrow.
How could I tell him my parents hated him with a vengeance?
MY BEST FRIEND LOOKED beautiful. And very ... Olivia. She wore a dark green dress with a short train. The bodice had embroidery detailing, and the dress was fitted down to her hips before it flared out. When she described it to me, it had sounded ghastly, but the moment she showed me in the dress shop, I’d been sold. And, although David had said any old sack would do, his wide grin and misty eyes contradicted his words. He appreciated the effort.
“You look gorgeous,” he said to Olivia as we reached the bottom of the aisle and No One by Alicia Keys was faded out by the person in charge of the music. His voice carried a little more than David probably expected, and he looked around with a wry smile. I suspected if he’d not had such a dark complexion, he’d have been blushing furiously. David was a quiet and private guy with a fierce sense of loyalty. I’d always admired how he and Olivia managed to remain friends with both Rory and me despite our decisive break-up.
I glanced at Rory standing beside David as his best man. He grinned from ear to ear, patting the pocket of his black jacket with diamond-shaped silver buttons.
My gaze roved down his crisp white shirt and dickie bow to his kilt—a kilt he was totally rocking. The light blue main colour of the Thompson tartan looked great on him. It had contrasting horizontal and vertical thick black stripes with thin red and yellow accent stripes. Long woollen socks hugged his muscular calves with the ceremonial knife, known as a sgian dhu, tucked into the top of one. Polished brogues—shoes that laced part way up the leg—completed his outfit.