Page 9

chapter

nine

The bang comes on my front door sooner than I anticipated. I jerk and stand up, wiping my damp palms on my jeans. I showered and got changed into jeans and an old shirt when I got home as a way of filling up the time so I didn’t go mad while waiting.

The knocking comes again, accompanied by a deafening call of “Frankie” by Con.

I race to the door and throw it open and gasp as the rain-filled wind gusts around me, the spray cool on my skin. Con is standing there, his fist raised to knock again. “You’re soaking,” I exclaim. His clothes are clinging to him, and rivulets of water drip over his face from his hair. Even as I speak, the thunder booms overhead and the rain increases.

“I couldn’t wait,” he says huskily.

“Come in, and we can—” I start to say, but before I can finish my sentence, he steps forward, his big hands seizing my shoulders to keep me still, and then he kisses me. It’s a deep kiss, his tongue twining with mine, and he pushes me back against the door. I grunt as his cold, wet clothes press against me, but rather than shoving him away, I find my hands coming up to clutch at his broad shoulders and pull him into me.

All sense leaves me as well as the warning signs that say if there’s anyone on the street watching, we’re going to be a gossip item for far longer than David’s naked apology. Luckily, Con still has a smidgeon of sense because he pulls back, ignoring my plaintive whine, and pushes me into the house, following me in and slamming the door behind us.

For a few seconds, we stare at each other, the only sounds that of our fast breathing and the boom of the thunder, and then we fly at each other. I pull his head down to me, kissing him furiously as he cups my arse and lifts me. I twine my legs around him, rubbing my cock against the hard length I can feel in his wet jeans, still kissing him frantically.

He moves towards the stairs with me wrapped around him like the ivy that grows up his house, but I pull back and grab his T-shirt.

“Take this off,” I say hoarsely and pull. He releases his hold on my arse one hand at a time to help me get it off, and I sigh in happiness when it’s gone. I throw it somewhere over my shoulder and dimly register a crash behind me, but I dismiss it as I run my hands over his broad chest, rubbing my fingers into the sparse hair that grows there. And all the time we kiss.

When he pulls his face away, I chase it and then blink as he lowers me to the floor. Before I can say anything, he spins me around and leans me over the back of the sofa. I utter a hum of approval that turns into a groan as he kisses the back of my neck. His lips are warm and soft, and his breath makes me shiver.

“You like that?” he says in a calm voice.

I nod and arch into him as he sucks and licks on the back of my neck, sending shudders rippling through my body. One big hand spreads across my chest, thumbing at my nipple beneath the shirt.

“Take it off,” I say throatily, and within seconds, it’s gone and his hand is back rubbing my nipple and scratching it with his fingernail. The pleasure lights me up inside, and I fit my arse against the length in his jeans and rub.

He pulls away from my neck and groans, pushing himself against me. He feels hard and big, and my arse clenches in emptiness. His hand comes up and grabs my chin, twisting me gently so he can kiss me. Sliding his tongue in, he tangles it with mine before pulling back and suckling gently on it.

I grab his other hand and pull it towards my cock, and he gives an approving grunt before kissing me again. His hand works dexterously at the buttons on my jeans, and within a second, they gape open, and he reaches in and cups my balls. I cry out, the sound thin and tortured in the silent room, and he ruts against my arse, forcing me further into his hand.

“Please,” I say. “ Please , Con.”

Obeying my incoherent urging, he gives my balls one last caress and then lowers my briefs and slides his hand down the stiff length of my cock. His grip is perfectly firm, and his sliding movement makes stars burst behind my tightly closed eyelids.

One of my hands clutches the sofa, digging in my nails as the other grips the hand holding my dick. I break away from his mouth to lean forwards, panting and giving the occasional moan.

He scatters kisses down my spine, licking and sucking at the skin until it feels as if all my nerves have risen to the surface. Then he rises, letting go of my dick.

“I want to fuck you,” he whispers. “Is that something you’d do?”

“Oh god, yes ,” I say far too fervently, and his mouth twitches. Then he frowns.

“Do you have any lube or condoms?” he whispers. “I didn’t bring any.”

I lean against the sofa, panting and trying to get my brain in gear. “Upstairs in the bedside table,” I finally say. He pulls back, and I half turn, keeping one hand on the sofa for balance as my head is spinning. “Check the expiration date on the condoms. It’s been that long since I had sex. I think George the Sixth was on the throne.”

He shakes his head, his eyes shining. “Get naked,” he instructs and dashes up the stairs.

I wait, mentally counting down until I hear what I expected. “Ouch! Motherfucker.”

“I don’t know how many times you’ve done that,” I call. “When is it going to sink in that the ceiling is low there?”

“Tell me again after I’ve fucked you,” he shouts back. “I might pay attention then.”

I shake my head and take a deep breath. Are we doing this? Am I going to fuck my best friend, the man I’ve realised I’m in love with? I grin and tear my clothes off. You bet I fucking am.

Footsteps sound, and I turn to face him, leaning back against the sofa. He’s taken the time to take off his own clothes, and I watch him come towards me, feeling my breath coming short as my eyes eat him up. Con is a devastating sight naked. His shoulders and chest are a wide stretch leading down to narrow hips and long legs, all of it covered in olive skin. The tattoos on his arms and hands gleam in the light as he stands, watching me as he rolls the condom down his cock. I swallow hard. It’s huge. Easily the biggest I’ve ever had.

“Come here,” he says hoarsely, and I look up to find him smiling at me. He holds out his arms, and it’s as natural as breathing to walk into them. He bends and kisses me, and my thoughts spin away, all my senses taken up with the feel of him naked against me, the sleekness of his skin, the calloused fingertips running over my body, and the scent of him around me. I feel safe and warm. And free. Completely free.

He walks me back, still kissing me, and his hands lower to my arse. He cups it, bringing me against him, and then spins me. “Bend over,” he growls, and I shudder and hasten to obey. Leaning over the sofa, I wait.

“Show me,” he says gutturally, and I grab my arse cheeks and pull them apart until he can see my hole. “So pretty,” he says, and I moan as he pets it. There’s a click of a cap, and then I feel his slippery finger run down my crevice. I sway, panting with my head lowered and staring blindly at the sofa, and then squeeze my eyes shut as he rubs my hole, sparking up the nerves before sliding the tip in.

“Oh god,” I whisper. “Go deep.”

“Not yet,” he says, his voice hoarse. “You’re really tight, Frankie.”

“I should imagine it’s sealed up tighter than a cave entrance after a rockfall,” I observe, and he chuckles, resting his face against my back for a second and kissing it.

“Have some patience,” he advises me. “I’m not hurting you.”

I crane my face around, wanting to see him suddenly. His face is flushed, his lips full, and his hair is sticking up everywhere from where my fingers have been in it. “Really?” I say, and he knows instantly that I’m not talking about sex.

“Never,” he says firmly. “Not ever , Frankie.”

I purse my lips, and he leans in, giving me the softest, sweetest kiss. It’s not anything I’ve had during sex before. In the past, sex has been fast and furious and all about getting off, but this sweet kiss makes my breath catch and my emotions twist and rise to the surface. Then I pull away and groan as he slides his finger into me.

“Oh god,” I say, white-knuckling the sofa.

“Alright?” he whispers.

“So good,” I moan. “Keep going.” The latter refers to the fact that he’s sliding the pad of his finger over my prostate, making sparks dance behind my eyes and my body stiffen. “Oh god,” I gasp again.

It’s pretty much all I say for the next few minutes as he stretches me open. He’s slow and methodical, and it’s so good I’m pretty sure I’ll be drooling if he keeps it up.

I feel a tingle in my balls and look back at him. “Please,” I gasp. His eyes are blind, and there’s a sheen of sweat over his face and body.

He nods, and I gasp as he spins me around to face him. He cups my bum and lifts me up. Obeying his urging, I lean back against the sofa, spreading my arms over the back, letting it take my weight as he raises my arse and I open my legs wide. I rest my feet on the sharp bones of his hips and watch avidly as he fists his cock with one hand.

The condom is slippery with the extra lube application, and I try to keep my eyes open as he positions it against me and pushes inside, but the pressure is so much that my eyes slam shut. He’s huge, and I feel every inch as he fills me.

At one point, it feels like I can’t take any more of him. I shout out and hit his arm with my fist, but I don’t mean for him to stop. It’s just so much. He seems to sense that and just grits his teeth, holding my gaze as he carries on gently and inexorably filling me.

I cry out, and he groans loud and long as he bottoms out, and I wind my legs around him, making him my prisoner. Then we rest there for a second as he gives me a chance to get used to him.

“Shit,” I finally mutter. “Con, you’re so big.”

“Okay?” he asks through gritted teeth.

I nod furiously.

“I’ll go easy,” he promises and then cries out as I clench my arse around the length of his dick. He lowers his head and licks and sucks at my neck.

The whole room restricts to just him and me. Outside, the world goes on, but in here, our world is the sound of groans and grunts and flesh slapping. He pulls back, fumbling one-handed for the lube and drizzling more onto his cock before shoving back into me.

“Oh shit,” I groan. “Con.”

“Hold on,” he says, and then he really starts to fuck me, slamming into me, his big hands clenched so tight on my buttocks that I know he’ll leave marks. The feel of him is sublime, and I screw my eyes shut. “Mmm,” I gasp. “Oh god , keep doing that.” He’s hit my prostate, and I curl my fingers so tight into the sofa that they hurt. My cock bounces on my belly, and I screw myself down on him. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop,” I gasp. “I’m nearly there.”

“You’re going to come like this?” he whispers, and I nod.

“Don’t stop. Don’t stop,” I chant again, feeling my balls tighten and screwing myself on his cock harder. Then I clench my buttocks and shout as my cock pulses into the air, shooting spunk in thick pulses over me.

“Frankie,” he shouts, and then I feel the sting of his fingernails as he holds me close and bucks into me. Then he slumps over me, panting, and I wrap my arms and legs around him, clutching him tight and kissing his shoulders.

We stay like that for a few minutes before his cock slips from my arse, and after he’s dealt with the condom, we stumble to the rug and collapse onto it together with chuckles and sighs. We end up lying with him on his back and me draped over him, my leg over his hairy calf.

There’s blissful silence for a while as his hand strokes my hair back, and he presses kisses into my hair. A breeze blows through the kitchen window, bringing with it the scent of earth and flowers. The rain has stopped, and the storm moved on. Finally, he stirs. “Frankie,” he says.

I raise my head from his chest and look up at him, almost afraid to see his face. But, unfortunately, at that point, a shadow crosses the window, and I hear a half-stifled shriek of outrage and the sound of hurried footsteps.

There’s a startled silence. “Oh my god,” he sighs. “Tell me a tourist didn’t just see my cock?”

I bite my lip. “If we’d stayed on the back of the sofa, they wouldn’t have, but you insisted on spreading out on the rug like a particularly sexy exhibitionist.”

“Shit,” he says morosely.

“Anyway, while I’d like to tell you it was just a complete stranger, I think it actually might have been Lucy Scrimshaw.”

He swallows hard. “Oh my god,” he says again faintly.

I lay my head back down on his chest. “Serves her right,” I say callously. “And really, we’ve done her a favour.”

“How do you work that out?”

“Well, you’re a lot prettier than my garden.”

“Which would be a compliment if I didn’t know the state of your garden.”

“Look on the bright side. We’re probably going to be the only topic of gossip for either the next week or the next millennium. It depends if Molly Saunders is having any more cosmetic work done.”

“And how is that the bright side?”

“I have a sneaking suspicion that Lucy won’t be paying me any more unscheduled inspection visits.”

“Well, aren’t you Mr Blue Sky today.”

I chuckle and look up at him. His face is soft, his eyes dark brown in the half-light. His big hand pushes my tumble of hair back. I feel curiously shy, but I plough on. “How could I be anything but cheerful when I’m here with you like this?” I say softly.

His hand jerks, a finger catching a strand of hair, and I wince as his movement pulls at it.

“Do you mean that?” he says harshly.

I nod. “Of course I do,” I say and gasp as he grabs me close, burying his face in my neck. “Con?” I say.

“I love you,” he says fiercely. “And I’m so tired of holding it in. I’ve loved you since the first moment David brought you home.”

I gasp. “ What ?”

He nods. “That very first minute you looked at me and smiled and said something that I forget now but was probably sharp. And boom! I fell, and I’ve never managed to stop. All the other men I tried, but they just weren’t you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“How could I?” he says, and there’s a simple dignity touched with pain in his voice. “You were David’s, and I loved him like a brother, and then later, when you weren’t his, you still couldn’t be mine. I thought about telling you when you threw him out but?—”

“But then he died.” He shrugs, and I touch his face. “Even if he hadn’t died, it would never have lasted, Con. After that, I couldn’t trust him anymore. I don’t really think there was a point when I ever fully trusted him.”

“I know. But he did die, and I couldn’t ever tell you about my feelings then. You were grieving and needed me to be your friend.”

“You’ve always been that. You’ve always been everything to me.”

“I thought I could be happy with you just as my friend, but it got harder and harder as we got closer. I tried to be with other men, but it was a waste of time because I usually picked them because they reminded me in some way of you.”

“I’m not sure that’s entirely a compliment considering Tim.”

He chuckles and strokes my hair back. “I’d see you next to them, and I’d realise that it was useless. Tim was the result of me thinking I didn’t stand a chance with you. I was getting cross and heartsore because I realised you would never reciprocate my feelings, and then I went on tour, and he was flirting with me, and I thought, ‘Why not?’ I couldn’t have you, but maybe I could be happy. And the longer I stayed away, the more I thought I could do it. I could see you again and just think of you as my friend, but it was useless because as soon as we got back, you walked into the reception, and I knew all my feelings were still there and getting stronger. Not weaker. And I was so angry with myself because you’d never feel the same way, and I was a fool.”

“You have never been a fool in your bloody life, Con,” I say. I shake my head. “You were so wrong,” I burst out.

“What?”

I pause, and my next words tumble out in my haste to make him understand. “Because I love you too.”

He jerks. “ What ?”

“I love you,” I say steadily, my heart twisting at the look of hope in his eyes. “I think I always have in some form or another. I’ve been thinking a lot about it lately, and I think that I was always meant for you. All along, you’ve been the perfect person for me. You were always there right under my nose.”

“But what about David?”

“I loved him,” I say, looking at him to check this is okay. He nods, his eyes warm and bright and glowing with so much love that it warms me through and through. “But it was a young man’s love, and the clock was ticking down on our relationship from the moment we met. It was always counting towards the end. If he hadn’t died, we’d have ended, I think we’d have stayed friends, but I never really knew him, and he didn’t know me. But you— you’re different. I know you inside out. I know that you hate chewing gum and people who litter, and prefer autumn to summer. I know that your favourite holiday is Christmas and that Christmas films make you cry, and I love you as a man with everything in me. I’ll love you until the day I die, Con.”

His eyes gleam wetly, and he clutches me tight and buries his head in my neck for a second. I kiss his hair, inhaling the scent of his shampoo and feeling the cool, sweet-smelling breeze drifting over us. When he looks up again, he’s smiling, but it’s unlike any other smile I’ve seen from him. It’s big and impossibly wide, and I feel a wave of dizziness that I made this happen.

“Forever, then?” he says.

I nod solemnly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Connie.”