Page 14 of One Night With You

He peels off my clothes slowly, like he’s got all the time in the world to enjoy what he’s about to do. When I’m naked, but still standing, he moves to kiss every part of my skin he can reach until he sits down on the edge of the bed, pulling me towards him by the hand, so he can kiss my chest, mystomach, lower and lower, until he can’t bend that way anymore. He runs both hands down the outsides of my thighs, and then drags them back up the insides, tantalisingly close, before cupping my bum, jiggling it a bit.

‘This,’ he says, cheekily, quietly, ‘is an excellent arse.’

‘My arse likes you too,’ I say, hands resting lightly on his shoulders, prompting a gentle spank with the flat of one hand. ‘Easy boy,’ I tell him, smirking, because I didn’tnotlike that.

He opens his mouth and takes a nipple, then, sucking the tiniest bit and then letting his tongue perform circles, slowly, around and around. I moan, running my hands through his hair and closing my eyes to let the sensation wash over me.

‘That’s nice,’ I sigh, and he moves to the other boob.

‘This?’ he asks, doing it again.

‘Harder,’ I instruct, and when the pressure is exactly right I tell him: ‘Yes. Like that.’

He’s firm and gentle, all at once, and I’m struck by how easy it is to tell him what I like. I’m never going to see him again – who cares if I’m bossy? He is, apparently, very good at taking direction. It’s a turn-on.

‘Take your clothes off,’ I tell him, whispering but resolved. ‘I want to see you.’

He pulls away from my chest and then holds my eye as he pulls off his T-shirt, then inelegantly pulls down his jeans. ‘Socks too,’ I say, and for a moment he’s all legs and knees, bending over to do as I say and then standing – in more ways than one – to full attention.

‘Very nice,’ I admire, purposely letting myself stare, stating without words that I’m not going to rush either. Then, I reach out a hand and drop to my knees.

‘Jesus,’ he moans, but I’m only just getting started.

11

Nic

The faint chime of the living room clock tells us it’s 2 a.m. She’s still lying on top of me. I don’t know what came over me, but the fact that I found the balls to seize the moment is something I will hold on to for the rest of my life. I’ve won the lottery.

‘That was …’ I say, and she hums agreement. But it’s not exactly enthusiastic, and immediately I worry it wasn’t as good for her as it was for me. Did she fake having a good time? Oh shit, I really, really hope not. Not even for my sake – for hers. If only she’d told me how to be better, what to do, given some instruction, I could have done it. I’m a quick study. I’m happy to learn. I am! And then I realise the shape of her under my arm has changed, and my chest feels wet.

‘Hey, hey – are you …?’ I ask, craning my neck to get a better look at her. She is. She’s crying.

‘Ruby,’ I say, panicking. ‘Ruby? It’s okay. What happened?Did I do something? Are you hurt? Just talk to me please. Come on. I only want to make sure you’re okay …’

‘I’m fine,’ she insists, turning her face away from me. ‘I am, honestly. I’m fine. Sorry. Urgh. This is so embarrassing.’

My hand is at the small of her back, cradling just above her bum. I softly rub circles over it with my thumb, waiting for more information.

‘Ruby …?’

She lifts her face and uses the back of a hand to wipe her cheeks.

‘I really am sorry,’ she repeats, snottily self-conscious. ‘I didn’t know I’d feel this way. I’m fine, really. That was good – really good. Too good? I feel …’

It’s killing me, waiting for her to decide how to explain. I know I sort of lost myself with her as we were doing it – it felt so, so good, like, teenage-fantasy, take mental pictures for the wank-bank good – but I didn’t mean to miss any signs that she felt … well, I don’t know how she feels. She’s still not said it.

‘I know this isn’t about me,’ I say carefully, trying to sound open to whatever she has to say but not selfish or self-centred. ‘But I’m sort of freaking out that it’s my fault you’re crying?’

She sits up, then, putting both palms on my chest so that she’s straddling me, looking down, all tits and face. I’m no longer inside her, but I like her there, the weight of her on me, letting what had just happened become a reality the longer her body continues to be wrapped around mine. If she wasn’t right there in front of me I might almost believe I wet-dreamed it.

‘This is mortifying,’ she begins. ‘But I can just be honest?’

She inhales and then lets out her breath slowly. ‘I haven’t been with anyone other than my ex in, like, years. And howyou just made love to me – he didn’t touch me with the tenderness you did in all the time we were together. A one-night stand has just been kinder to me than the man I thought I was in love with. Isn’t that the most pathetic thing you’ve ever heard?’

She crumples back down and shifts her leg to roll off me, so that we lie side by side, and she issues an ashamed groan.

‘I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,’ she continues. ‘Actually, yes I do. I need to tell somebody, I suppose, and you’re the one who’s naked in my bed. I have a lot of feelings right now. Sorry. Oh God, I know this isn’t what you signed up for, sorry. And now I’m waffling. Urgh.’

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