I ran my hand through my hair and crawled onto the bed as I shucked off my jacket. There wasn’t a lot of room in the wigwam once the bed was set up. It was a wooden structure with a seating area at one end which folded into a large bed. At the opposite end was a bench on one side and a counter with a microwave and kettle on the other.
I sighed. “Babe, it can hardly piss him off if he’s not aware you’re doing it.”
Rory snorted. “Doesn’t matter. He’d be looking down his nose at me if he knew. It’s unbecoming to get rat-arsed, especially drinking out the bottle. Don’t you think I’m showing my common upbringing? Should have asked for a paper bag.” He sat up. “Damn, I should have got a bottle of cheap cider or a bottle of Mad Dog. Then I could really have looked like the kid of a pair of junkies. I think there’s a blue pen in my bag. We could draw blue track marks up my veins. What do you think?”
I smiled gently as one would to a hurt dog “We’re not that posh, Rory. You know that. Yes, we’re probably slightly middle class, but my dad had to work his whole life, and we’re far from rich. This isn’t about your upbringing. They’re terrified of you hurting us all again.”
I took the bottle from him and swigged down a mouthful. It burned going down, but apart from a slight cough, I held my own.
Handing him the bottle back, I pulled off my top and unhooked my bra. Rory needed comfort, and the best way to comfort him was with his dick inside me. It might have been shallow, but it was the one way Rory knew how to express his deepest emotions.
He raised an eyebrow, and his gaze flitted from my moistened lips to my bare breasts and back.
“What the fuck are you trying to do to me, kneeling on my bed drinking whiskey out of a bottle with your tits bare? Are you wanting to be fucked when I’m so pissed off?”
“Ro, you’ve never hurt me, and you never would.”
“I’m smashed and I’m fucked off,” he growled.
I raised the bottle. “Babe, there’s barely anything missing from this bottle. You make a shit alcoholic. You’re a little drunk, horny as fuck, and you have every reason to be pissed off at my unreasonable parents.”
He took another sip of Jack and handed me back the bottle.
“You hurt them, but I have to take some of the blame. When you announced you wanted to break it off, I didn’t ask why. I just let you go because I was afraid of the answer—that you didn’t love me anymore or that the sex had become boring. I was ill at the thought you might have lied and you had found another girl.”
Tears leaked from my eyes, and Rory reached for me. I batted his hand away and took another swig of liquid courage before handing him back the bottle and stripping off the rest of my clothes. He took a swig and put the bottle top back on as I struggled out of my boots, jeans, and knickers.
“I’m sorry for not fighting for us,” I said. “But you didn’t fight for us either. There was radio silence on both ends. I can try to make my parents see things differently, but you’ll have to prove yourself to them this time.”
He nodded sullenly as I straddled him.
“Do you understand what I’m saying, Rory?”
He curled his fingers around my hips and pressed me against his hard cock. “Naw, babe. Ye dinnae get to dae that. Ye dinnae get to take the blame. I was the one that screwed up. I left. I broke both our hearts. I made yer parents hate me. And you think that rubbing your sweet, wet pussy against my cock makes it all better? Is that what you think?”
I shook my head, biting my lip. “No. But we can—"
He lifted my breast to his mouth and ran his tongue around the areola before biting it. I hissed in pain and he let go and focused his gaze on me again.
“We can what, Lace? Fuck each other until it doesn’t matter that your dad wants to slash my car tyres?”
Now that was not a bad idea. Sex was always the best way to bring Rory out of a mood.
“If that’s what it takes.”
“Lace, you can’t just—”
“Your big cock and my bare pussy,” I whispered in his ear as I pressed my body as close to his as possible, grinding down on him.
“F-u-u-u-uck. I love you bare.”
“I know you do. I need you.”
He swept his fingers slowly up my sides, making me shiver, and my muscles relaxed.
“Ye dinnae need me. Ye need a fancy vet or a doctor. No’ the kid of a pair of junkies.”
I kissed his neck, hoping to show in actions what he didn’t seem to believe from my words.
I reached down between us, trying to move his clothing out of my way.
“I’m just yer bit of rough till something better comes along,” he insisted.
He flipped us over, knocking the wind out of me. As he tugged his jeans down, he grinned like a predator.
“You’re not a bit of rough though, Rory,” I said.
“Your parents think I am.”
“Fuck my parents,” I whined.
He laughed mirthlessly. “Maureen’s not my type and Fraser definitely isn’t.”
I rolled my eyes and kicked my heel into the back of his calf, but Rory laughed off my useless attempt to hurt him. He pushed his fingers between my legs and ran them through the folds of my pussy.
“You’re such a dick,” I remonstrated without any heat to my words.
“And yet you’re fucking soaking for me.” He leaned down to close his warm and wet lips around my nipple, sucking it into his mouth and running his tongue over the tip.
I groaned and lifted my hand to curl my fingers in his hair.
The second I made contact, he let go of my nipple with a pop and climbed off me. “Get yourself off. I want to watch.”
“I thought you wanted to fuck me.” I frowned. I wasn’t in the mood for him watching me diddle myself. It was too intimate, and neither of us were in that headspace tonight.
He pulled off the clothing on his lower half, then reached for the bottle of Jack Daniel’s again. Taking a big mouthful, he swallowed it, glowering at me.
“Well are you going to fuck me?” I asked.
He studied me for a moment, his head tilted to one side. “How many guys did you fuck in the years we were apart?”
I narrowed my eyes. “None that compared to you.”
“How many, Lacey?”
“I have no idea. How many women did you fuck?”
“None that compare to you, sweetheart.” The corners of his lips curled into a mocking smile, and I stuck my tongue out at him. He chuckled darkly. “Promises, promises.”
“It’s you with the inactive tongue tonight, buddy.”
He dropped his gaze to my pussy. “Start showing me how much you need me, and I’ll help you out.”
“Was my wet cunt not enough of a show? That’s all you, Rory.” I hauled the bottle out of his hand, taking another swig of Jack’s truth serum.
Tugging at his shoulders I urged him atop me and curled my fingers around his cock. I opened my legs and ran the tip of his cock through the folds of my wet pussy, forcing myself not to moan at the contact. Even the touch of his hard tip on my flesh sent threads of need to my core and caused me to clench my muscles.
He leaned back so he could lay the bottle of spirits on a small table, then he wrapped his arms around me. Flipping us over, he positioned me on top of him. “Since you’re not going to give me the show I want, you’re doing all the work for the first round.”