Page 20 of Monarch
I kiss the heel of her palm and then slide down her body. I roll the vibe all around her, watching her closely to know where it makes her shiver the most, which place makes her moan the loudest, and then when she’s writhing so much I think she must be feeling the same sweet ache I was a moment ago, I move the vibe out of the way and take her in my mouth. All of her. I suck and I lick and I kiss until her hips are wriggling under my hands, her own fingers teasing her nipples. And when it’s her time, I do the same thing she did. I watch her orgasm. I watch her, and I can’t deny it anymore: I really,reallylike what I see.
*****
I’m not surprised that we drifted back to sleep after fucking, but I am surprised how long we sleep. When I wake, the light has changed in Roos’ room, filtering through her curtains, the thick material no match for an autumnal sun that still seems to have something to prove.
As I blink into the daylight of what I suspect is at least noon, if not later, I feel a pang of guilt. We should be outside. We should bewandering the canals and admiring the foliage. We should be soaking up what sunshine we can until winter really sets in. I probably should be making my way to the convention because that is why I came to Amsterdam. But then I turn to see Roos’ body all curled up, her eyelids flickering in sleep, and I don’t want to go anywhere.
Except I need to pee. Like badly. Like, I should have done it a lot earlier, and now I’m probably risking a bladder infection, so I reluctantly untuck my body from its cocoon around Roos and I tiptoe to the bathroom.
Once finished and with my hands washed, I realise I need a glass of water and something else to eat. It’s been so long since I’ve fucked like this – incessantly and as if the outside world doesn’t exist – and I’m not used to neglecting my other needs.
As I pour myself a glass of water from the tap, drink it in one go, and then refill it, I think about how sorely I’ve missed this kind of connection with somebody. Apps and a couple of regular fuck buddies over the years haven’t come close. Yes, they’ve made me come, and they’ve left me satisfied, but I haven’t felt satiated like I do now. Satiated, filled up, whole, and yet also raring to go again. Eager to have my hands back on Roos. Keening to watch her come again and again and again. Even away from the bedroom, as we were cooking in the middle of the night and talking yesterday evening, I felt something I haven’t in a long time. I haven’t felt this connection, this closeness, this level of easy intimacy since…Lexi.
The doorbell rings, and that startles me out of my thoughts, which I’m grateful for. I walk to the kitchen doorway with a packet of biscuits I found in Roos’ cupboard, and look expectantly in the direction of her bedroom, expecting her to walk sleepily towards me to answer the door.
But she doesn’t emerge.
“Roos?” I call out. Admittedly, it’s not very loud. I sort of don’t want to wake her up, but I also don’t know what I’m supposed to do.
I take a biscuit out of the packet and munch on it as I consider my options. By the time I’ve got the second in my hand, I’ve decided to just ignore the doorbell.
But as if to taunt me for my decision, it rings again, harsh and somehow louder than before.
Glancing again in the direction of Roos’ bedroom, there’s still no movement, not even a sound.
When the doorbell rings a third time, I tut and walk to Roos’ front door, where there’s an old intercom that doesn’t have a screen, but it does have a phone. Clueless who it is, I press the button with a key on it, and a buzzing sound reverberates from the device. So I guess they’re inside. Maybe it’s a delivery. Maybe it’s a neighbour who forgot their key.
I’ve half-convinced myself that whoever it was isn’t going to appear on the other side of the front door, so I walk away from it and return to the kitchen, on a mission to find teabags that are similar to the ones you get at home.
When a loud, clipped rapping at the door fills my ears, I realise this person really does want to see Roos. And yet, Roos is still asleep.
Back at the door, I notice there’s no peephole for me to see who’s on the other side of the door, and that seals my decision. I’m just going to ignore whoever they are and wait for them to disappear.
But that seems to be the last thing on their mind as they start to pound on the door in earnest.
“Roos! Roos!” a muffled voice shouts through the wood of the door. They sound Dutch. They’re saying Roos’ name in the way she did – rolling the r and making the s sound more like a z.
I decide to eat another biscuit as I wait for them to give up, and I realise that I’m learning something else about Roos. She can apparently sleep through anything.
But then the shouting – more Dutch words – and the banging gets too much; it’s ruining my enjoyment of my biscuit. And givingme a headache. Sighing, I turn the lock and open the door quickly, ready to tell this person to fuck off, which I’m confident they’ll understand perfectly.
But I don’t do that. I don’t do anything but stand and stare at the person in front of me.
A ghost.
A ghost from my past. A ghost from my past with long-lashed, dark brown eyes that widen from angry to shocked to terrified. Because, yeah, I guess they’re looking at a ghost too.
But then their expression changes. They’re all thunder and lightning, and despite the different hair, the different body, the unrecognisable clothes, I see them exactly as I remember them from the last time I saw them.
Lexi Williams still hates my guts, and the feeling is absolutely mutual.
Chapter Eight
Lex
Last Night
One thing I’ve never told anybody: I’m afraid of flying. Petrified. Like cold sweats, shaking hands, shallow breathing, scared. It’s why I only ever fly alone, because nobody wants to deal with that shit. And also, flying with somebody I love? Having them be at risk of hurtling to the ground in a metal tube destined for death? No, thanks. I can only just about cope with my fear for that kind of end for myself, and I’m not exactly my own biggest fan.
