Page 12 of Glitterland
“Fuck me?”
“Yeah.”
“You can say it, you know. You won’t get arrested.”
“My nan would ’ave a fit if I went on like that. It don’t cost nuffin to be polite. Oh, no, I’m talking about my nan in like…when we’re…like…y’know. That ain’t right.”
I twisted my upper body towards him and hooked an arm around his neck, pulling his mouth onto mine for a damp, ungainly kiss. “Essex,” I said, against his mouth, “would you please, and grandmother permitting, be so very kind as to fuck me senseless?”
I felt his shuddery exhale against my lips. “Hunjed pahcent.”
I flipped onto my stomach, and he covered me like sunlight in a rush of warm skin.
There was enough strength in his lean body for me to feel it as his weight pressed me down. The springs in the mattress dug into my chest. His lips ghosted over the tops of my shoulders, sprinkling pleasure as ephemeral as stardust over my skin, and I squirmed back against him, grinding my arse against his cock.
“God, fuck, do it.”
He drew back a little. Then came the sound of tearing foil, thesnap-snapof a bottle. Lubed fingers stroked me lightly and I thrust myself onto them. Not enough, not nearly enough.
“For fuck’s sake,” I snarled.
The flat of his hand between my shoulder blades shoved me back down.
“Don’t wanna hurt you, babes.”
“But—” At that moment, he twisted his fingers sharply inside me and whatever I had been intending to say was lost in a harsh gasp of pleasure. He withdrew and did it again, and this time I cried out in exquisite frustration. It was so close to what I wanted. My hands clenched and unclenched against the mattress. “Oh, God, Essex, please.”
His fingers vanished, replaced by the head of his cock, pushing into me. He was careful, excruciatingly careful, but it had been long enough that even the stretch and burn of this slow penetration made me shudder and moan with the sweet intensity of violation. I lifted my hips to force him deeper.
“Yorite?” he muttered. Some drops of skin-warmed sweat landed on my spine. I felt each one as clearly as if it were a diamond.
I opened my mouth to tell him to get on with it and babbled instead. “Yes, fuck, yes, oh yes, fuck, please.”
He eased himself out again and I sobbed out some more ecstatic nonsense, then lost even the power to do that when his returning thrust hit my prostate almost perfectly.
“Again.”
And he did, in long, steady strokes, his hands curled about my hips to anchor me. Coloured lights splintered behind my eyes. For a few brief, blissful moments, all thought, all memory, dissolved like sugar in water. I was free. There was nothing but sweat and skin, hot harsh breath against my neck, a cock driving into me. Raw, undeserved pleasure stolen from a stranger in a dark room.
And then it was over. Like lightning from a clear sky. A moment of glorious, shuddering oblivion, a pure glittering hopefulness, and then the grim, inevitable return. To a puddle of cooling ejaculate trapped beneath my rapidly wilting cock and a man whose name I didn’t care to remember labouring behind me. A wild disgust rolled through me. And a strange, inexpressible sorrow for the shining moment that is never more than a moment. Then Essex pulled me to him, his mouth open against the back of my neck, and came with a muffled, self-conscious murmur, his body streaming with sweat and shaking with strain.
We fell apart, Safetyboy Essex keeping a tight hold on the condom as he eased himself out of my body. I collapsed onto my back and threw an arm over my face as my breathing steadied. I wanted to move, to gather my clothes and get out of there, but neither my body nor my mind were quite cooperating. I heard Essex puttering about the room, presumably cleaning up. After a moment, the mattress squeaked, heralding his return. Something cool and damp tenderly enclosed my cock, and I jackknifed into a sitting position.
“What the fuck?”
“Wet wipe, babes.”
“God, don’t you have tissues like a normal person?”
“It’s Olay. Wif aloe vera.”
“Oh, well, in that case.” I had to get out of here.
He scrunched up the wipe and flopped down next to me. “You totally trashed my ’air.”
“Sorry.”
“Are you always, y’know…like that?”
