Page 37 of Pretty Mess

“I need to come,” I whine.

He shoves hard, sending me up the bed. “You haven’t earned it yet.”

His thrusts accelerate in force and speed, and he’s grunting every time he bottoms out, which is unspeakably sexy. The force of his thrusts pushes me forward, and I collapse into the bed. He climbs onto the bed, kneeling behind me and pulling at my hips to lift my arse.

He immediately shoves back in, bottoming out with a tortured sound. “Take it,” he grunts. He swivels his hips, making me cry out, and then reaches around and takes my hands that are clenched in the sheets. He grabs my fingers, holding tight as he pushes in and out. My hole tingles and I can feel the hot silk of his skin against mine. He’s sweaty, and the scent of his cologne mixes with the smell of sex.

“Fuck,” I mewl. Then I shout out as his penis rubs over my swollen prostate. Sparks dance behind my eyes, and my body arches into him. He does it again. “Oh god, don’tstop,” I scream.

His hands keep me still as he shoves me forward, directing a series of thrusts against the swollen nub until I’m sobbing, my eyes blind and every millimetre of my body focused on him and the almost unbearable pleasure.

“Shit,” he hisses. “So fucking good. So tight andhot.”

He pushes in again, and I feel the telltale tingle at the base of my spine travelling into my balls. I’ve never come without my or my partner’s hand, so it takes me by surprise to feel I could now. I thrust back against him, chasing my orgasm, searching and heaving while I cry out jumbled words of pleading.

“Come,” he says. He slaps my arse as he shoves deep, and the command combined with the sting sends me over.

“Yes,” I scream, jerking as I unload spurt after spurt into the sheets.

I’m just beginning to come down when his thrusts stutter. He tenses and makes a strangled, almost helpless sound, and I feel the warmth as he comes into the rubber. I wish I could see his face. Ineedto see his face.

For a few seconds, he rests against me, his breaths coming in harsh pants. His hair is silky soft against my cheek, and I inhale the scent of his shampoo. For a second I forget myself and nuzzle the side of his face affectionately. It doesn’t mean anything other than a nice thank you for giving me the best sex I’ve ever had, but he stiffens as if I’ve got down on one knee and proposed marriage with an orchestra playing.

He pulls out, but I note that he’s gentle with me even when agitated. I roll over in the bed, ignoring the come smeared stickily over my belly and the sheets. He moves into the bathroom, his back view just as impressive as his front—his arse full and round, his skin pale like moonlight on snow. I squeezemy buttocks, feeling the wonderful tenderness of my hole. My entire body is throbbing with pleasure.

The shower starts, and I wonder if he wants me to join him. It’s hard. If he were some bloke I’d met normally, I’d have jumped in with him, offering to scrub his back and seeing whether things would play into a second go. But I can’t do that with Cormac. He’s a customer. He paid for me, and now that the transaction has finished, I’m nothing to him again. But even if he hadn’t bought my services, something about Cormac tells me to leave him alone. He’s determinedly isolated, like he’s on a small island cut off from everyone else.

I presume this is it for us. He’s had me properly, and I’m no longer the new boy—the fresh meat, as Ian Harris so charmingly said, like I was a pack of bacon at the butchers. Cormac will no doubt move on to the next man now.

The thought makes my stomach clench, and I’m abruptly conscious of the semen cooling on my body. The stretched soreness no longer seems erotic and is now just seedy. I shake my head. “Don’t be fucking ridiculous,” I chide under my breath. “This is nothing more than a one-night stand where I happened to get paid.”

Cormac appears, drying his hair with a towel. The inky strands stick up, and he looks very young for a second. He throws the towel back into the bathroom and then pads over to his clothes. Removing a leather pouch from his messenger bag, he finds a comb and then restores the order to his hair. He pulls on his trousers, and I come up on my elbows to watch him.

“No underwear, you little strumpet?” I remark.

He stiffens as if he’d been trying to forget my presence, and I’ve just forced myself back into his consciousness. “I beg your pardon?”

I grin at him and roll back into the bed, bunching the pillows behind me. The sheet falls away, revealing my naked body, andhis eyes flare with new lust. I lick my lips, heat rushing back in. I fist my cock, giving it a gentle squeeze as I eye him. “See anything you like?”

His eyes twinkle, and he shakes his head. “Pack away your wiles, Circe.”

“Who’s that? Is she your mum?” He stares at me, and I burst into laughter. “I’mjoking. Of course, I know who Circe is.” I pause. “She works at the greyhound stadium on the reception.”

I watch enthralled as he chuckles. It’s awkward and seems almost unpractised, but the rough, husky sound is incredibly endearing. He stops, looking suddenly self-conscious.

I pull the sheet over me. “I did go to school you know. I even made it through sixth form college without peeing on the classroom floor and eating peas with my knife.”

“What?” He holds up a hand. “No, don’t even bother. I’m not pursuing that particular conversational detour.” I grin at him, and he stands still for a second, his hands on his narrow hips, his eyes curious. “So, you did your A-Levels, then?”

He immediately looks like he wants to wish the question back, and I repress a laugh. “I did.”

He’s too controlled to gape, but his mouth falls open for a second. “Then how—?” He stops himself with obvious difficulty.

I offer him a flirty smile. “How did a boy like me end up with a man like you fucking me and paying for the pleasure? That’s a long story, Mac. May I call you Mac?”

“No.”

“Well, Mac.” He rolls his eyes, and it makes me laugh. When I stop, he’s watching me, his eyes gleaming. “Maybe I had a premonition that in the future I’d need a qualification in maths to deal with all the moolah you’ve put in my account.”