lives in a narrow terrace near the train station, about ten minutes’ walk from the studio, and he walks fast. The only reason I can keep up is because he carries my bags for me. Not my handbag, obviously, but my laptop and iPad and camera.
Not only can he walk really fast, he can talk at the same time. I find out that he bought the house because it’s close to the boxing gym he uses, and he hopes I don’t mind, but he’s only decorated half of it. I just about manage to nod at the right moments. I’m a mess of nerves and anticipation. I was fine with the whole idea of having sex with him when he turned up at the studio, but delaying things like this, bringing me back to his house has added a whole new layer of intimacy to everything.
This is making it real. I’m not sure I can handle real, although I want him so badly that I’m not sure I can walk away either. Then he pushes open a gate and pushes me gently up a sloping path towards a black front door and panic sets in. I turn to him. ‘Are you sure…’
He puts his mouth on mine before I can say the rest of it. Before I can talk him or me out of this. The kiss is hot, hard, and fiercely intimate. He tastes of coffee and sweetness, and his tongue moves against mine with a desperate urgency. He grips my hips, fingers digging into flesh through the soft fall of my skirt.
He’s never kissed me before. All the things that we’ve done, and this is the first time we’ve kissed. It shocks me. And before I can even think what I’m doing, I’ve dropped my bag and dug my fingers into that neat hair and I’m kissing him back. His hands are all over me as I shove my tongue into his mouth and let out a low, dirty moan. He feels so hard against me, not just his erection, but his mouth and that muscle-packed body, and it turns me into a soft, quivering wreck.
Lifting his head, he watches me for a moment, then reaches into his pocket and takes out his keys. ‘I’ve been wondering about that.’
‘Yes,’ I say faintly. ‘So have I.’ Although I’ve only just realised it.
He slots the key into the lock and turns it, but he doesn’t open the door. Oh, god, I was too much. Too forward. Too…
‘There’s something I want to say.’ He blushes. ‘About Amber.’
Here it comes. I feel a bit sick, to be honest, partly because I’m jealous as hell and because I’m terrified that I’m not going to measure up to Amber. In any way, shape or form.
‘When I came to the studio with her,’ he says, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, ‘I need you to understand something about that. I was having a crap day. She offered me a blowjob, and I was horny. I didn’t know, Ellie. I…didn’t know about…’ He gestures to the space between us. ‘This.’
‘You don’t need to explain,’ I say, but he touches my face and the words die away.
‘Yes I do.’
‘No,’ I say again, fighting the urge to turn my head and lick his hand. ‘I know what that’s like. I spend half my time fantasising about someone walking through the door and offering to lick me out, because I’m lonely and bored and horny, and I’ve just had to watch yet another besotted couple crawl all over each other.’
He doesn’t say anything. He drops his hand from my face and unlocks the door, then pushes it open. He has me through the door before I can even think to ask him what he’s doing, and when I can think to ask him, I can’t think at all, because he’s eating my pussy like it’s dessert. He got my knickers down as far as my knees before he bent me over the arm of the living room sofa and buried his face between my bum cheeks.
I grip the cushions until my knuckles go white and let out a long, slow moan. His big hands are on my arse, holding me steady, exposing me to him. I can’t see him. I can only feel. The slide of his tongue. The warmth of his hands. The heat of his breath and the scratch of his chin. He tastes every single part of me in a long, torturous journey that starts at the small of my back and ends at my clit. He lingers there, until my whole body has become a focused throb, centred at that point. ‘Tell me what you need, Ellie,’ he says, as my hands roam over the sofa, trying to find something to hang on to. It is huge and squishy, with that clean smell that I associate with him.
But I can’t find the words. It’s not even that I’m too scared to say them. I simply can’t find them. He moves away from me, leaving one hot hand on my hip to hold me in place. As if I could move, even if I wanted to. I turn my head enough to see him pulling my bags closer. He finds my iPad and pushes it into my hands. ‘Is it this?’
I need you. Just one more thing that I can’t say, as he sinks to his knees behind me again, and puts his wicked mouth back on my clit. Because I can’t say it, because I can’t look into his hot blue eyes and tell him everything, I turn on the iPad instead. My hands shake as I find the file that I want. He feels so damn amazing, licking me out, tasting me, and he looks so beautiful in the pictures I took of him, pleasuring himself. It feels like the ultimate in sexual decadence, having Tom Hunt on his knees with his face between my legs, pleasuring my body, as I pleasure my mind with my pictures of him.
Tom Hunt. On his knees. For me.
In a blinding flash, I feel a little piece of my heart break loose. I know that I’ve just given it to him, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I should be more scared than I am, but it’s hard to focus on fear when you’re a heartbeat away from orgasm.
And when it crashes into me, it’s stupendous. My eyes go blind; I can’t hear anything but the thundering of blood in my ears. I don’t just feel it in my pussy, my clit. I feel it everywhere. He is everywhere. Then I realise that he’s scooped me up, that I am curled up on his knee and his arms are around me and when I kiss him, I can taste my climax on his mouth.
‘You were looking at me,’ he says, and then I realise that he has my iPad in his hand. ‘All those pictures to choose from, and you were looking at me.’ He stares at me, those blue eyes hot. ‘Did it turn you on, Ellie? Did you like looking at those pictures of me when I had my tongue in your pussy?’
I turn away from him and get my first proper glimpse of the inside of his house. I assume this is his living room. It’s not big, but it’s very tidy and very clean, which makes the dirty thing he just did to me over the arm of his slate-grey sofa seem even more outrageous. If I didn’t know better, I’d say the room is sterile and cold, but it isn’t, because it matches him perfectly, and he’s neither of those things. ‘Yes.’ I fidget with his cuff. ‘Did you?’
‘What?’
‘Did you enjoy it?’
‘Fuck, yes,’ he says. ‘I’ve enjoyed everything we’ve done, Ellie. I thought you knew that.’
I didn’t know that. I didn’t know that at all, and it’s too much for me. ‘What about all those horrible accounts meetings in your office?’ I say. ‘You can’t have enjoyed those. They were work. Who likes their work?’
‘You do,’ he says. ‘And I do.’
‘You like being an accountant?’
‘I like playing with numbers.’ He shrugs. ‘I like helping people out. It’s very satisfying. There’s always a right answer.’
‘I like taking photos of people fucking,’ I say, and the revelation shocks me so much I can’t breathe for a moment. I’ve never dared to admit that to myself, let alone anyone else.
‘I
