Page 32 of Love At First Fright

R osemary felt the arrival of dawn before actually seeing it through a window, a pale pink light slowly rising from the horizon beneath the trees.

In the early hours of the morning, Rosemary placed Lyn’s sapphic book selections in the ruins, where she’d found the letters, hoping that they would convince Juliet that nothing about how she felt for Cecilia was wrong.

Not seeing Juliet nearby, Rosemary had come back to the Gatehouse, unable to sleep.

She’d tried, but then she’d checked her email.

Big mistake. There was an email from her editor—this time she’d highlighted in bold the date they would need the full manuscript.

Rosemary compared the date to her plan, bile rising in her throat.

There was no way she could make that deadline.

Not even if she wrote solidly for the next two weeks.

She cracked her knuckles, and clicked Reply. She wrote that she needed more time, that this book was a struggle and she was sorry to be letting them down. Rosemary didn’t think; the second it was written, she pressed Send. Now it was out of her hands, and she’d told them the truth.

Hours later, when she woke up with the dawn, head slumped on her desk, Rosemary noticed the little “new message” icon had popped up on her screen. She rushed to click it.

No problem at all, we can move the pub date. I’ll talk to the team and get an updated transmittal date for you, but for now don’t stress. We’ll make it work.

Sent from my iPhone

Rosemary leant back in her chair and watched the sun climb over the trees, listening to the dawn chorus of robins, jackdaws, and blue tits.

She had tortured herself for months about what they would say, and after all of that, they’d just been supportive.

In hindsight, she couldn’t imagine them being any other way, though she did have some concerns about her editor’s work-life balance—no one should be replying to emails at 4 a.m.

Rosemary’s work wasn’t over; she still had to write the damn book. But the idea of loading up her Word document felt a fraction less daunting now. Perhaps even exciting.

She still had hours before the workday—more like a work evening and night—started, but she couldn’t sleep anymore. She had the peculiar urge to knock on Ellis’s door and tell him about getting an extension to her deadline, but she hesitated. Were they at that stage yet?

Feeling energised, Rosemary showered and got into her cosy writing clothes, which consisted of cotton pyjama shorts, fluffy socks, and one of her dad’s old university sweaters.

She didn’t want to write in her room, she needed a change of space, so she hauled up her heavy old laptop and took it downstairs to the living room.

The house had settled into silence; everyone was still in bed.

Winter sunlight spilled in through the living room’s tall windows, dust motes floating in the air around her. It was surprisingly warm, a little stuffy even, smelling of musty books and parchment and a recent fire.

She settled herself on one of the biggest armchairs, tucking her legs underneath her.

“Rosemary?”

She looked up to find Ellis there, Fig’s lead thrown over his shoulder.

At his feet, Hank was sitting patiently.

She wanted to tell him about Hank, but she didn’t even know the context.

Had he passed away at an old age? Or had he been sick?

And even if she knew the context, how could she broach the conversation if she didn’t have a hagstone?

If she was going to tell Ellis she could see ghosts, she needed to be able to prove it to him at the same time.

Rosemary felt her stomach swoop, with both longing and something else. Something that made her feel as warm inside as if she’d been sitting in sunlight.

“What are you doing out of bed?” he asked.

It wasn’t fair that he could say the word bed and it was enough to have her insides squirming. “My editor gave me an extension on my writing. Now that I have more time, I—”

“You wanted to write again at a more leisurely pace,” he said, coming over to her, draping the lead on the chair beside hers.

“Exactly.” She knew he’d understand her. “What about you? I thought A-list actors needed their beauty sleep?”

“Unfortunately for my sleep cycle, Fig doesn’t know what a night shoot is. I’ve just been around the fields with her, and she’s already run upstairs and is probably napping on my bed now.”

“Alright for some.” She smiled.

Ellis turned around and closed the door behind him, popping the lock.

In silence, he stalked over to the armchair opposite hers and peeled off his coat.

While the room was quiet around them, Rosemary’s heart was pounding so loud she could barely hear.

Everything between them was unfinished right now, and she didn’t think she’d be able to focus again until she’d had more.

“Stand up for me, love,” Ellis said. The tone of his voice…sultry, low, inviting.

She stood, feeling a touch self-conscious. Goose bumps travelled across her skin as she watched Ellis take her in before him.

“Come here,” he said.

The need for him: his praise, his touch, his mouth on hers—it was all-encompassing. She walked closer, stopping just before him.

Ellis’s chest was heaving, as if this was torture for him, too, the moment before they came together, and the delicious knowing. The knowing that they would. That there was no turning back now.

“What are we going to do with you?” he said, voice like gravel. “Standing there in those tiny fucking shorts. Anyone could have come in here.”

“They’re just shorts.”

Ellis ran his thumb across the slope of her thigh, only stopping as he grazed the edge of her shorts. Her skin was scorched by his touch.

“They’re indecent.” His eyes met hers, all pupil. Excitement and apprehension and desire twisted through her, and Rosemary leant towards him, arched an eyebrow.

“Are they?”

“They make me want to do indecent things.”

Her lips parted, and slowly, slowly, Ellis traced his left hand up the back of her other thigh and pulled her carefully down so she was kneeling before him.

His eyes drank her in, his hands edging across her clavicle until his palm was pressed against the pulsing heartbeat of her throat and his fingers tangled in her hair.

“What kinds of things?” Rosemary whispered.

That was all it took. Ellis slanted his mouth against hers, and she was lost. Ellis kissed her like he was angry about it, and she met his need with her own.

Rosemary made a faint pleading sound in the back of her throat, winding her arms around Ellis’s neck, tugging him closer.

She sucked on his bottom lip, relishing the scrape of his stubble against her skin.

When her hands found their way to his chest, running down the muscles there, he emitted another rumbling groan.

Ellis slicked hot, wet kisses along Rosemary’s jaw, down her neck. He pulled her up onto his lap, her thighs splaying on either side of him.

“Off,” he ordered, and she raised her arms so he could tug her sweater off, leaving only her skimpy cotton tank beneath.

She felt almost naked beneath his heavy-lidded gaze, her nipples taut and sensitive.

“Knew it,” he said, almost to himself, bending down to firmly lick the bud of her nipple through the cotton, his tongue tracing the floral tattoo of vines that circled her areola. “Knew you’d have perfect fucking tits.”

The heat of his mouth on her, even through the flimsy cotton, was heaven, but she needed more.

Rosemary tugged her tank off, baring herself to him.

She loved it, the thrill of being almost out in the open like this.

The door was locked, and it would be hours before anyone else was out of bed.

Still, she’d never done anything like this outside of a bedroom before, and it made her feel reckless.

She looped her fingers around his belt buckle, arching into him, grinding her pussy against the hard press of his erection.

“ Fuck, ” Ellis moaned. “Open my belt, love.”

She did as she was told, relishing the command.

Ellis pressed his forehead to hers, and they both looked down at the space between them, watching hungrily as Rosemary unbuckled Ellis’s belt and unzipped his fly, pulling his cock free.

It was heavy and thick in her hands, and Rosemary shivered with pleasure as she gave him a couple of short, firm strokes, Ellis biting his teeth down into her shoulder, punching his hips forwards automatically to meet her strokes.

“You’re so good for me, Rosemary,” he whispered in her ear. “Safe word?”

“Watermelon.”

“Good.” He huffed, his hand tugging the flimsy, already soaked cotton of her underwear aside to stroke the seam of her clit.

“God, you’re so wet.” Ellis pumped his fingers into her, circling her clit with his thumb.

It was perfect agony, and when Ellis pulled his hand away, she watched as he coated his cock with her shine, clasping her hand in his, guiding her to show her just how he liked it.

Ellis bucked his hips again, as Rosemary picked up speed. He continued to fuck her with his fingers, his lips chasing hers.

“Need to taste you.” Ellis lifted her up, his hands branding her thighs, and placed her down on the armchair, kneeling before her. He slicked kisses down her stomach, down the apex of her thighs.

Rosemary let out a needy sob when he blew softly on the wet seam of her pussy, making her writhe.

The way he looked up at her, her legs wound around him, was almost enough to make her come apart.

His eyes didn’t leave hers as he sucked on the pearl of her clit, his tongue driving into the heat of her cunt.

Rosemary moaned, her fingers tangling in Ellis’s hair, holding him in place.

“Be a good girl and come on my tongue,” he ordered, and with growing pace he fucked her with his fingers, too, arching inside her, pressing down on that perfect spot.

Rosemary cried out, hoping that the closed door would muffle her voice as she bucked, seeing stars, riding Ellis’s face and tongue until her orgasm abated.

When she’d regained the feeling in her legs, Rosemary joined Ellis on the carpet, pushing him back so he leant against the front of the armchair. She kissed him because she didn’t have access to language just yet, tasting herself on his tongue.

Rosemary needed to make Ellis feel as good as she did. She straddled his thighs, palming his cock.

“Your turn,” she whispered. She needed this to end with him coming, she needed to know she could pleasure him just as much as he could her.

“Is it now?” Ellis grinned, sitting back to watch her. “What if I say no?”

Rosemary pouted. “Please, Ellis. Let me.” This was what she wanted, this playful dynamic.

It was like a game, the erotic thrill of waiting to see how he would react, whether or not he would call out her brattish behaviour.

More and more, Rosemary realised that she loved being a brat, but only with Ellis.

Only because he could match her, return her teasing with his soft commands.

She lifted her palm, licking it with a swipe and returning it to him. Ellis hissed as Rosemary picked up her pace, using her other hand to reach back and tug gently at his sack.

“Look at what you’re doing to me.” He groaned, shifted positions, standing above her. The sight of him up there, the feel of his muscled thighs beneath her hand, had Rosemary slick all over again.

“Remember what I said on the phone, love?” Ellis asked, that deliciously stern expression back on his face. With one hand he fisted his cock, hard, almost brutally; the other stroked her cheek.

“You come wherever you want. Use my mouth, please, Ellis.”

“Fuck, hearing that is enough to make a man crumble, Rosemary. But not yet. Right now, I want to come on your perfect tits. Cup them for me.”

She did, pinching her nipples hard enough that jolts of pleasure had her aching.

She tipped her head back, watching Ellis watch her, his eyelashes fluttering, his body shaking, barely holding on.

She reached forwards a hand, knowing that he could punish her for it later, knowing that she wasn’t doing exactly as she’d been told, to rub her thumb, just once across the sensitive tip of his cock.

It was enough. Ellis gasped her name, viciously thrusting into his hand, his come ribboning across her breasts, her neck, her stomach.

The hot, wet feel of it on her skin nearly had Rosemary delirious.

It was everything she wanted as a sub: that feeling of being marked, used for pleasure.

Even on her knees, he worshipped her, knowing that she had done this, she had brought him that release, that pleasure, rooted a feeling of joy deep inside her.

Their breathing slowed, and Ellis went to grab a few tissues from a box on a nearby table.

“I almost don’t want to clean you up,” he said, helping her stand. “You look incredible painted in my come like that.”

Just to tease him, Rosemary ran a finger through a streak of it, and sucked the finger into her mouth. “Christ, Rosemary,” Ellis said, voice pure gravel. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

He cleaned her up, and she pulled her vest back on.

“Do you think you’ll be able to go back to sleep now?”

She snorted. “Not likely.”

“Do you…do you want to go bird-watching with me then? After a shower and all that?” He ran a hand through his hair. “I thought I spotted a buzzard, or maybe a kite, flying over the fields earlier, but I wasn’t sure. Need your expert opinion.”

“You want to go bird-watching with me?”

“I would love nothing more. But only if you bring those sexy binoculars.”