Chapter Four

 

 

BEFORE LEAPING INTO BED, WE strip out of what few clothes we haven’t yet managed to peel from our bodies. For him, it’s just his socks and boxers – his jeans fell somewhere in the kitchen earlier. My skirt has become tangled and I have to fight with the zip. I’ve tugged my knickers back into place and sort of feel loath to remove them. However, he’s standing completely naked in front of me, arms folded, waiting for me to become as buck naked as he is.

“Fair’s fair,” he says, grinning.

“You haven’t given birth to two children. It’s not fair.”

He’s staring at my legs, covered in a pair of hold-ups still, just barely.

I fold my arms and his eyes travel suddenly to my chest.

“Are you afraid I don’t like your body Liza?”

I gulp. I’m too proud to admit that yes, I am afraid. He’s six foot four with not a scrap of fat on him. He’s incredibly handsome and I love him… and no, I don’t much like my body. Gage hasn’t been very interested in it since we had kids. I know feminists everywhere will be saying that I should rely on my own self-love and nothing else, but there’s nothing like a man loving your woman’s body like Sam did just a few minutes ago. So, why am I now afraid he’ll suddenly turn around and not like it?

He sits on the edge of his bed and spreads his legs, patting the space between them.

“Can I sort out your hair for you?”

I touch it, realising several strands of hair have fallen out of my beehive. It’s normally this hairstyle or a fairly intricate bun reminiscent of Princess Leia.

“I never let it down.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“A woman should always have a secret. The true length of my hair has always been mine.”

“You don’t know what it means to me to be able to touch you, Liza.” His love makes me feel inferior again, but I also feel immediately on high alert once more.

I let my hands hang at my sides and walk towards him. “You can undo my hair if it makes you happy.”

“Yesss,” he celebrates, wrapping me in a quick cuddle when I sit down with my back to him, giving him access to pull out all my bobby pins.

“Don’t lose them,” I request, “keep them together. I’ll have to redo my hair before I go.”

“Okay,” he whispers, as he touches my hair. “Can you stay tonight?” He sounds desperate, and he’s not trying to mask it, which makes me love him even more.

“My mother is having the kids overnight, so… yeah, I’ll stay with you.”

“I’m so happy you can stay, Liz.”

“Me too.”

“Did you plan to stay with me tonight?” he asks, rather bold of him I decide.

“I don’t know. Did you wake up this morning and tidy your room with a view to me sleeping over?”

“No,” he says, almost choking, “no, I did not!”

“So, you’re always tidy?”

“I have a cleaner, gorgeous girl.”

“Don’t call me that.” A sudden fury grips me. I can’t understand why.

“Why not?”

“I don’t like it.”

“But you’re gorgeous!”

“No, I’m not.”

He finishes undoing my hair, his touch gentle and tender as he uses his fingers to brush it out down my back. It falls to my arse and lies on the sheets between us.

“Stand up,” he commands, his voice meek one moment, then manly like it is right now.

I could deny him, but I don’t ever want to do that. I want to always obey his orders, at least in the bedroom.

I stand by the side of the bed.

“Turn around,” he demands.

I turn around and rearrange my hair, letting it fall over my shoulders and cover my breasts. He’s naked and watching me with the most wolf-like gaze. My hair’s as soft as satin, but when it brushes against my taut nipples, it suddenly becomes an unwelcome agony. How am I to survive this constant need when I’m around him?

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, Liza. You can’t tell me not to call you gorgeous, not when you’re so fucking gorgeous.”

I look down on him, frowning. I fold my arms and scowl. “I hate my boobs.”

“Why?”

“They’re too big. I don’t know where they came from. Mum doesn’t have massive boobs. Hetty has fried eggs! I mean, she usually has fried eggs. It’s not fair.”

He puts his face in his hands and laughs his head off, his chest shuddering.

“Oh, I’m glad I’m so funny to you!”

“You’ve always known how to make me laugh, Liz. God. You’re utterly oblivious, aren’t you?” He looks ready to roll around laughing, the sod.

“I’m glad my massive boobs are funny to you. Let’s also talk about how my tummy will never be fully flat again, even though Het got back her bloody washboard abs after only six bloody weeks. And my hips! I hate my hips. I can’t wear jeans. They fall down off my small waist. I can’t find any that fit my hips and waist. It’s not fair. I don’t like modern beauty ideals and I don’t like my hips. There, I said it.” I realise I sound ridiculous, foolish, maybe even churlish, but I can’t help it.

He shows me his eyes again, which are still laughing even though his mouth isn’t.

“You honestly are so oblivious,” he repeats, “really, come on, Liz. You’re the sexiest woman I know.”

“Oh, fuck off, you.” However, even I’m starting to see the funny side of this.

“I mean every word, Liz,” he says, reaching out for my hand. “You’re completely intoxicating. I don’t know how I’ve kept my hands off you all this time, except that I’ve always respected you too much to try anything, especially with you being married.”

I stand between his open legs as he remains seated, still unashamedly naked and dashing and perfection incarnate. Just to be able to touch his shoulders is magical, which I’m now able to do freely and openly. Here. In this room of ours.

“So why now, then?” I ask.

He holds my waist as he speaks. “It’s become clear to me that you need love, and I want to give you love. It’s true, I’ve ignored this as much as you have, probably more, but I can’t ignore it anymore. Not when I can see how unhappy you are.”

He catches my eye and must see how close to the bone his words are, bringing me to tears again. He pulls me down into bed with him and we lie under the covers. I bury my face in his chest as he strokes my hair.

“It’s when I see how happy Hetty is. I’m so jealous. I can’t help it. I hate myself. Joe’s this magical thing in her life. True, he’s human like the rest of us, he’s not perfect, but she’s so happy and I know that I’ve never, ever had that with Gage. I’ve overcompensated all these years. I’ve ignored how much of a prat he is. I’m living a nightmare, Sam. I’m in a nightmare because if I leave him, I’m taking his kids away; I’m severing him from all that matters to him. If I leave, it’ll be all my fault. I’ll be the villain. He’s always been the victim, you see. His dad left him when he was little and he’s always been the victim; life’s always been hard because of that. His faults stem from his childhood trauma and he’ll even admit all his faults, but he never does anything to rectify them. He always drops his father into a conversation whenever he’s apologising. He knows just how to fuck with my head.”

“Have you tried to leave him?” Sam asks gently, happily playing with my hair.

“Once.”

“Yeah, when?” He sounds surprised to hear it.

“It was just before Hetty fell pregnant. I took the kids to Mum’s and I was determined that was it. I was so fed up of it all. Plus, he’d never given me an orgasm.”

Sam takes hold of my cheek and turns my face up to look at him. His palm is so warm and his skin is so welcome against mine.

“What?” he asks, shocked.

“He’d never given me an orgasm.”

He’s frowning so much, he looks five years older. I think Sam’s annoyed with himself for not loving me sooner. (Yes, I was deprived before today!)

“Has he given you an orgasm since then? I mean, fuck, Liz! You didn’t have an orgasm before you had kids?”

We both burst out laughing. I push my face into his chest, laughing so loud while he lifts a load of my hair to his face and uses it to wipe away his tears of laughter.

“I was sure it was me, but now… I wonder if I can’t get off with him because he doesn’t love me and I’ve always known it, deep down. I’ve blamed myself so much Sam, believe me! I’ve constantly wondered if it’s always been me.”

“So, when he did eventually make you come, how did he do it?” Sam asks, genuinely interested. His eyes are full of shock and amazement.

I keep chewing my nail. “I can’t remember.”

“What? You can’t remember?”

“I was really drunk. I just know I came, but I can’t remember how we managed it.”

Sam covers his face with his hands again, shaking his head with laughter. “Oh, my poor Lizzy.”

After he gets over his laughter, he pulls me tight into his chest, his arms wrapped firmly around my shoulders.

“It’s horrible, Sam. I don’t know. I don’t know…” I’m trying to think straight, but it’s difficult with his body so close to mine. “I thought I loved him, I really, really did. I was seventeen when we met and we waited two years before having sex. I thought it was so romantic that he’d waited, that he was willing to offer me a life and stuff like that. However, I’m nearly twenty-five now. I’ve changed so much since having kids. I also changed when I was at university, my horizons were broadened, whether I like to admit it or not. My mindset isn’t what it used to be. I grew up, but I don’t think he has, or ever will. It’s so bad that I’ve just started lying to Het about things, just so that I don’t have to admit how pathetic my marriage has become.”

“Oh, so she knew you were unhappy, but then she met Joe and you felt shit because she was having so many orgasms?”

I can’t help but giggle. “Yeah, so now when she asks how things are with Gage, I just tell her he’s been fucking me all the time, when the reality is, I can’t remember when we last screwed. I could have been asleep, for all I know.”

“My sexy little kitten,” he growls, grabbing my arse and squeezing it, “you’ll always know when you’ve been with me.”

I know I’ve been fucked by Sam because every inch of me is humming with happiness. I never undo my hair for anyone. I never even let Gage pull out my hairpins and I always sleep with it plaited. It’s my one thing for me, but for some reason, I still want Sam to have it. I want him to take all of me. I’m so tired of seeing everyone else in love and feeling so bitter because it doesn’t seem like I will ever have that.

“Come here,” he groans, pulling me on top of him.

I squeal when he lifts almost the entire weight of me in his hands and plonks me across his chest.

“You can leave these on,” he groans, sliding his hands over my hold-ups, “but these panties have to come off.”

He tears my knickers at the sides, ripping them off. I’m squealing, pleading with him, when he starts lowering me onto his tongue.

“Oh, please, no,” I cry, because I feel self-conscious and embarrassed straddling his head. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Go big or go home, kitten. I’m going big with this beautiful body. I’m going to collect your big orgasms and you’re going to let me.”

“Oh, fuck. You’ve persuaded me.” How am I meant to disobey him when he sounds and looks so deliciously sinful?

I grab hold of the headboard to steady myself and begin rocking over his long tongue and eager lips.

“I want to switch the other way, I want to watch your body as you make me come.” Anything to distract me from worrying about what he thinks of my body.

“You spread that pussy over my face however you want, kitten.”

I turn around so I’ve got my back to the headboard and I can look down and admire his body as he licks between my legs.

“Fuck yeah, I can stare at your tight little hole,” he groans, and realising what I’ve enabled him to see, I almost bolt until he grabs my bum in his hands and shoves his tongue deep up inside me. “Stay right where you are, gorgeous woman.”

“Oh… Sam,” I moan, as he suckles my clit, his hands firmly gripping my body.

I watch his cock harden as he performs oral pleasure, his arousal no less diminished even as he tends to me selflessly. I remind myself I am the reason for his long, lovely cock being so erect and greedy for me, and that realisation makes me feel incredibly sexy. I tip my head back and he grabs my hair, growling as I threaten to cut off his air supply entirely while he grapples with my pussy and my hair being all in his face.

I watch his stomach muscles rippling as he works, the muscles in his thighs trembling slightly as he becomes more and more aroused.

He’s utterly and completely perfect for me. I love every inch of his body. I couldn’t ask for more. He’s lean and smells wonderful and I need him so much. I reach down and pull his nipples gently. In response, he holds my pussy lips apart and directs more furious licks towards my clit. My entire being comes alive and the pure pleasure he gives me makes me feel like I’m whole again.

“Oh my god,” I moan, “oh my god!”

I hold my aching tits as I bounce on his face, my core on fire, my heart pounding – all my inhibitions evaporated. He wraps his arms tight around my waist as I try to escape, multiple orgasms ripping through me as he gently nibbles my clit and drinks the flood of nectar from my pussy.

I have never, ever orgasmed like that before, never. Not even with a rampant rabbit.

I slowly climb off him, feeling dizzy and crazy, my legs shaking and numb. I lie by his side, resting my cheek on his stomach as I recover, my eyes closed, still catching my breath. He holds my hand and lies there with a proud smile, licking his lips.

I look up at him even though I feel annihilated. He looks so happy.

“Oh baby, you look radiant like this, all your hair all over my cock and hips and legs. I love you so much.”

I love him and I want to make him as happy as he makes me. I want to spend the rest of my life making him feel the way he makes me feel. I know he’s a deeply tender and sensitive soul and I want him so much because of that – and because he’s a wonderful, generous, amorous lover – and I utterly and completely adore him. I always have. He’s always been my ray of sunshine on a stormy day.

“You’ll lie still now while I have my way with you, Samuel Aitken. You’ll do exactly as I say and you’ll see that even little kittens have strength.”

“You could tell me to walk over hot coals, and I would baby, I’d do anything for you,” he growls, cupping my breast in his hand and squeezing, his big cock standing to attention.

I settle between his spread thighs and gaze beyond his erection and into his eyes. While we maintain eye contact, I kiss his penis gently, worshipping him. I kiss his stomach and his balls, never losing eye contact for longer than a few seconds. I lick the shiny head of his cock and suck a pearl of precum into my mouth, licking my lips and groaning as I taste his salty arousal.

“Tell me about your pain,” I beg, “tell me everything. Tell me when you knew. Tell me how many nights you’ve lain here stroking yourself to thoughts of me. Tell me how you’ve cried, tell me how you’ve hurt.”

I continue kissing his cock, never sucking, continually bestowing the most fervent, featherlight kisses against the rigid flesh of his manhood. I stroke my nose up and down, inhaling every inch of him, becoming intimate with his tenderness. I love how he keeps leaking precum and he loves how I keep licking it into my mouth.

“I think I’ve always known,” he confesses, “but I wasn’t surprised when you got married or any of that. I don’t know why, but I wasn’t. I was surprised however when you kept in touch; when you kept sending me emails; when you still cared about my life. I’m not going to lie and say there haven’t been women. Sometimes I’ve felt lonely, sometimes it’s gotten to the end of a very drunken, lonely old night and there have been female companions to keep me warm, but whenever anyone tries to get close, I pull away because it’s not the same as it is with you. I know that as long as I’ve got you in my life, in whatever way I can get you, I know I’ve got someone to talk to who understands me completely, who gets me, who I have a rapport with. I miss you so much when you’re gone, when you’re busy… and I know I’ve no place to be muscling in on your world.”

His words take my breath away and not for the first time today, perhaps not even for the fifth time, more like the sixth or seventh or even eighth, a tear drops from my eye and a shiver of utter delicious relief washes over me.

I crawl onto his body, allowing my hair to run free and stroke his skin as I move. I put my hands in his and lift his arms above his head, pinning him down while I get comfortable on top of him, ready to take him inside me.

“I don’t want to be your comfort blanket,” I groan. “I want to be your woman. I want filthy, dirty sex and I want to be treated like a lady outside of the bedroom, and a slut inside it. I want you to use my body for your pleasure and fill me as many times as you require. I’ve panted in the night for you, touching myself to thoughts of your lips caressing my body, your hands all over me. I’ve come to thoughts of your shoulders bearing down on me, your hips between my thighs, your cock inside me and your kisses ravishing me. The reality is even better, though. I’ve fancied you since the moment we met and I’ve loved you for years. It’s only with you that I remember myself… that I know myself.”

“Gorgeous,” he growls.

Our noses and foreheads touch as he stares at me with animal passion. I don’t berate him this time; I’m beginning to feel more gorgeous, the more time I spend in his arms.

I lean in and kiss him; he’s pliant and submissive, eager to receive me. I let him catch his breath and kiss his jaw and ear. He kisses my throat and shoulders as I move about, enjoying him.

His tongue tastes my flesh, the same as I taste his. I wriggle across his lap until his cock pops up into position, enabling me to slide around and ease myself down onto him.

Our hands held tight together, my chest heaves as he fills me full. He looks joyous and grateful, yet yearning for more, all at the same time.

“I dreamed of this,” he murmurs, “I dreamed of you… passionate and sexual. I must have always known, deep down, this is who you are.”

“I love you.” I kiss his lips gently before leaning back and sitting upright on his cock. I reach back for my own heels and arch as I take him into me, again and again. Sam holds my thighs and my waist, his noises almost louder than mine. I love that he’s so vocal. I would hate for him to try and hide how he feels about me, at least not anymore. He grabs my breast in his hand and uses the thumb of his free hand to rub my clit as I work my hips fast over his.

I’m utterly lost. I don’t care about anything anymore; not about how big my boobs are or about my jiggly bits. Sam seems to love me just as I am.

When he sits up and wraps his arms tight around me, I shift my legs so that I can wrap them around his back and we begin rocking together instead. While he’s sucking and kissing my breasts, his cock hardens even more and I cling to his hair tight, moving my hips as fast as I can.

I cry out loudly at the same time as him and it’s truly euphoric as we come together for the first time, our bodies perfectly in sync, the sensation of his hardness between my trembling walls so thoroughly and utterly satisfying as I shake and pant and allow my facial contortions to run out of control.

He falls back onto the bed and I fall with him, curling up on top of his body, my weight resting entirely on top of his. He drags a sheet over the top of us and wraps his arms around me, kissing the top of my head as we recover.

“It should have always been like this,” I cry, because I’ve yearned for it, I’ve dreamed… I’ve begged for life to bring this sort of happiness my way – and now I discover it’s been right here all along, waiting. Being contented is so simple in theory, and yet, I’ve been unable to conjure this same feeling with Gage. It just isn’t possible. I tried. I failed. There’s something missing between us. It’s a sad reality.

“Hush, sweet baby. I’ll wait,” he whispers, “and I’ll be here. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. Even if we can only be friends, then we’ll be friends forever.”

I love him so much, it hurts. I take his hand and kiss his palm, then hold it to my cheek.

“Forever,” I agree, because I cannot imagine a life without my Sam in it.