I can’t tell you how much I love this book. Head Over Feels is a contemporary romance with humour and mouth-watering sex. But why do I love it so much?
Is it because it’s my debut novel? That’s right I’ve never released a novel before. You may have read my short stories or purchased my anthologies, but this is my novel, and no matter what happens next with my writing, this was my first. You never forget your first.
Because I’ve been writing Head Over Feels for years? It took me six months to write the first draft and then four years to develop, edit, and perfect. I’ve cried over this story, screamed at it, and improved my writing skills along the way. If not for incredible Twitter writers like Stefanie Simpson and Sarah Smith, who held my hand and helped me believe, I wouldn’t have got this far.
It’s about rugby and is unapologetically British. I’ve read excellent sports romance books before. There are racy ones about ice hockey by Helena Hunting, novels focusing on American football and horse racing but rugby union is rare. From the first match I attended I’ve loved rugby. The power and strength emanating from the players are palpable. They are at their peak, in a dangerous battle that could destroy their bodies as they fight for survival. And for those who don’t know, rugby is as sexy as hell. And the British thing? It features the seaside, a curry house filled with lads on stag weekends and a very English cathedral. What more could you want?
The start is inspired by an evening I’ll never forget; the night I met a rugby playing artist. Little did I know that one cold evening in Winter the hot guy flirting with me as I offered him a canapé was a national rugby player. Sadly, there was no illicit romance in the cathedral’s cloisters, and the rugby player in my story bears no resemblance to the man I met, but that one night inspired something significant.
It displays that real life gets in the way of romance. My years of online dating showed me how much baggage people have. While I never met anyone with a medical history or grief like Aidan’s, I have met people who are temporarily damaged because of friends and ex-partners. I know what it’s like to date when you have secrets that you’re scared to share, and I brought that fear and vulnerability into this book.
Best of all, the sex in Head Over Feels is hot and plentiful.
Want to find out for yourself?
Head Over Feels comes out on Friday 12th February. Whether you need something to perk you up during the pandemic or the six nations has inspired you to read about hot rugby guys, or you want a man you can rely on to please you at Valentine’s make sure you download a story you’ve never read before.
You can pre-order the e-book here or wait until 12th February for the paperback.
Here’s an excerpt where Sophia and Aidan meet for the second time in his swimming pool. Is Aidan really who he seems and what is scaring Sophia about taking the plunge?
An Excerpt from Head Over Feels
She’s here. Aidan’s eyes stung with chlorine, and his deep breaths hurt his chest, but still, he sensed her.
It was as if the heat from her stare seared his flesh, even as the cold water created a protective layer around his body. I haven’t swum this hard in years. But he wanted to show her how well he performed. When her eyes fluttered closed at night, he had to be the man she dreamt of.
His confidence faltered as he noticed she was leaving. Was she disappointed? Aidan wasn’t a big rugby player, but he was strong and muscular, and women adored his agile form.
“Wait!” he shouted, water rushed into his mouth, the ensuing coughs hiding the desperation in his voice. The waterline peaked above his pecs as he stood on the tiles of the bottom of the pool. Droplets of water trickled off his shoulders before joining the rest of the pool with a drip-drip noise. Sophia stopped, her shoulders sagging.
His pulse raced as she turned. He’d memorised everything about her and yet now she was finally in front of him, she took his breath away. Aidan’s gaze followed her curves, pausing at the hips he remembered holding, his hands twitched in anticipation. With deep sighs, Sophia’s breasts moved slowly up and down. The familiar sensation of his jolting cock stole blood from his brain.
“Why were you were leaving?”
Sophia faltered. Her gaze flitted around the room, looking at everything but him.
“I didn’t want to disturb you, I mean, disturb your swimming,” she said quickly.
“You weren’t disturbing anything.” His palms went to the edge of the pool directly in front of her feet. He fixed her with a stare as he pulled himself up and out, but her face reddened, and she quickly broke eye contact. Water slid down his naked body. He stood in front of her, not close enough to touch. His muscles continued to burn from the swim, but they competed for his attention against his growing erection.
Her eyes struggled to meet his. They repeatedly dipped, trying to see more of his body, almost as if controlled by an unwavering force. He grinned when her eyes finally lingered on his. He hoped she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
“You look tired. Didn’t you sleep well last night?” Aidan asked, causing Sophia to flinch. He’d hit a nerve.
“Aren’t you cold? Maybe you should get dressed,” she replied.
“I can’t get naked in front of you.” He stated. Her dark brown eyes widened. He caught her looking at his crotch before looking away. Aidan nearly pumped his fist triumphantly into the air.
They stared wordlessly at each other. Sophia’s teeth tugged at her plump lower lip, which made him craved a kiss from her. Would she taste sweet? How would the rest of her taste? Sophia was a mystery he was aching to uncover.
His old Irish team swim shorts couldn’t hide his erection much longer. The green material clung to his thighs. They were roomy, but soon he’d be straining if she carried on staring at him like that.
“Don’t you have a towel you could put on? You might get cold or something?” Sophia responded hesitantly, fiddling with her blouse, pulling the bottom of it down. All she succeeded in doing was pulling it tighter against her breasts and giving him a view that made his body hum.
“There’s one over there.” A lone finger casually pointed to the corner of the room, eyes never leaving hers. “You can get it for me seeing as you’re concerned.”
Golden flecks appeared to crackle inside her eyes.
“I couldn’t care less to be honest,” she replied with a cheeky smile. “But I thought that you’d want to give your best performance tomorrow, seeing as you’re playing Bath. Aren’t the Bulls and Bath meant to be massive rivals?”
“Did you Google me?” She rolled her eyes, but the grin didn’t waver. “I’m flattered you’re so concerned about my “performance”.”
She huffed at him but continued to stand her ground. He stepped closer, and she met him head-on.
Smutathon is today! The aim this year is to raise money for Endometriosis UK. Smutathon is when erotica writers , sex bloggers and adult educators write something smutty for good causes. Endometriosis is a condition where tissue similar to the lining of the womb starts to grow in other places, such as the ovaries and fallopian tubes. It can be extremely painful and debilitating. It’s also a widely misunderstood condition.
You can donate here and read some lovely erotica here.
When one of my friend’s told me that this week she’s been diagnosed with endometriosis I knew that it was time to get writing. What was my prompt? This particular friend calls me her cheerleader, based on some life coaching we had at work. Your cheerleader is someone who supports you and cheers you on in your life. I started with the word cheerleader and here is what happened. Note – one quick story with no editing.
“Go on show me,” Greg shouted from outside the bedroom door.
“I look stupid,” Kate replied, turning to the side before shaking her head and turning back to face the mirror. Pop tunes from her university clubbing days played in the background. Maybe they’ll get me pumped for tonight.
She shrugged at the black and red cheerleading dress. It was so tight it could have been painted on. The outfit started at her shoulders, creating a deep vee at her bust before travelling down and then the dress pleated at her upper thighs. Kate turned quickly making the skirt part of her dress flutter in the air. A flash of red caught her eye. Why hadn’t Greg’s sister, Jan, told her it was a fancy-dress hen do before she’d agreed to go? The regulation cheerleader costume was indecent. Even the red pants that were a little bigger than knickers and supposed to reduce the flesh on show had “sexy bum” written on the back.
“I bet you look stunning. Let me in. I’ll massage your ego,” Greg said before dropping his voice in a way that made her subconsciously clench her thighs. “I’ll massage other things too.”
She’d never normally wear something like this. It wasn’t that she was against a bit of skin showing, but Saturday nights in town were a thing of her past. Greg was the only one who saw her dressing sexily these days. And I’m scared what they’d say about me and my body. Jan didn’t care what people thought about her. Her main aim was to be herself and have a good time doing it. She’d probably accessorise her cheerleader costume with a flashing penis headband and a giant inflatable cock. Maybe I should be more like her.
Kate opened the door, and Greg let out a long whistle. “Fuck me, honey. You look amazing.”
She shook her head again, forcing her high ponytail to bounce in the air. “I’m going to look ridiculous compared to the other hens. All of your sister’s friends are hot.”
“You’re hot,” he pulled her towards the mirror and eased her in front of him. “When I look at you, I know I’m the luckiest man in the world. I got to marry you. You could have chosen anyone, but that day you asked me out at the office Christmas party I knew I would do anything to call you my wife one day.”
Kate returned his gaze in the mirror. He’d said this to her before. She’d been so drunk at that party that she’d finally advanced on him, her crush for two years, and shouted out her request. Her friends had egged her on all night, and eight gins later she’d declared her interest. Now they were married, and they were building up to another wedding. Jan’s was going to be epic, but before that, there was a hen party to get through.
Greg bent down and pulled up one of her black and white stripey socks, securing it above her knee. His lips brushed her thigh briefly before he pulled up the other one. This time his kisses climbed higher. He paused at the edge of her cheerleader pants.
“Hmmm, ‘sexy bum’. I couldn’t say it better myself,” he said hungrily before giving her bum cheek a little bite through her pants.
“I’m nervous about tonight,” she confessed. Greg stood quickly and grabbed her hips, squeezing gently. She rocked her pelvis gently against him. “I don’t know how I’m going to cope with all those women and their excitement.”
“I know, honey. But whenever you want to come home, call me and I will be there.” He planted kisses against her neck. One of his hands dropped lower before slipping under her pleats. Kate held her breath. “And I’ll send you messages all through the night of what I’m going to do when I pick you up. Maybe I need to get you more excited too so that you rival them.”
“Please,” she released it like a breath of longing. Beyonce’s ‘Drunk in Love’ came on her playlist. How many times had they had sex to that song?
He dragged his nails up the inside of her thigh. Kate made a bleating noise that in public would have embarrassed her. He loved that noise.
“Or I could give you a taster of what will happen now,” he said between kisses.
He brushed his hand across her pants. Kate grabbed it as he tried to withdraw it and held it against her. “You’re very hot, sweetie.”
Their marriage was often a game of teasing. Their weekends were spent pushing the boundaries of patience and toying with each other’s wants. Tonight wasn’t the first time she’d dressed up in front of him, although the outfits she wore were usually a little more risqué.
He massaged her pussy through her pants, running lazy circles with his thumb against her heat as he met her gaze in the mirror.
“Don’t stop,” she mouthed. Greg slipped his hand inside her cheerleader pants, and she gasped when she felt the skin on skin contact.
“I love it when you’re wet for me,” he stated before rubbing her clit. He worked faster this time. His finger was rough, and she moaned at the friction. “Tonight, when I pick you up, I’m going to do this to you in the alleyway next to the club. I’m going to stand you in front of the security camera and put a show on for the security guards who will check the footage. How do you feel about that?”
Although anxious about showing her skin, he knew there was one time she was happy to perform. She insisted on exhibitionism when she was drunk and horny. He usually stopped her in anticipation of her embarrassment when sober, but a couple of times she’d gone down on him in car parks in nearby cities and once when camping they’d sneaked to the beach at midnight and fucked quickly. The sand in awkward places had been worth it for the rush. She hadn’t regretted any of their experiences, and they’d talked the other night about pushing the boundaries. But sex near their home with people they knew in the building was something new.
“Do you like the sound of that?” he asked as he eased a finger inside her. She moaned quietly. His smile was against her neck as he kissed her again. What did they say about men? That they couldn’t multi-task? Thank god that was an old wives’ tale.
He pumped his finger inside her a couple of times. She wriggled, but he reached his other hand into her bra and squeezed her breast, holding her tightly against him. He was as horny as her, and his erection pushed into her back.
“You know we’ve only got a couple of minutes before the cheerleader taxi arrives. I don’t know if I’ll get the chance to make you come,” he growled. “You might have to spend the night horny and soaking wet.”
She knew he was right. In this position, she usually struggled to orgasm, but it didn’t stop her opening her legs wider.
“Then I guess you’d better hurry up,” she replied, a Cheshire cat smile across her face.
He squeezed her hard nipple between his fingers, causing her to shout out.
He laughed so deeply behind her that her stomach flipped. His cock pulsed against her arse, and she writhed against him. If she was going to spend the evening worked up, then so was he. “I’m going to make you cum so hard in front of those cameras tonight. Your mouth will be in the perfect O shape as I slip my cock inside you.”
The dirty beat of the music was a soundtrack to her moans, and her musky scent filled the air around them.
His fingers pumped quicker as if he was responding to her haste. Greg’s kisses against her neck became little sucks and bites. Was he marking her as his and warning off other guys tonight? She smiled at the idea. With each passing second, her need for release grew, and she moved her body in rhythm with his fingers willing her climax closer. She was panting his name now. Sweat beaded her forehead, and she splayed her hands against the cold glass of the mirror.
“Everyone is going to see me fuck you,” he growled as she ground against his fingers.
“All the men are going to want you tonight.” He grunted loudly. She’d avoided kissing him for fear of smearing her makeup. But I don’t care anymore. She turned to feast on him, something that would help her closer to the edge if not over it.
Her orgasm was so close. One more minute was all she needed. The song filled her limbs, and her arms started to tremble in anticipation. She could go on her night out satisfied.
The doorbell rang as her phone bleeped with a flurry of messages. Women screamed outside the front door.
Lights flashed across the dancefloor as bodies moved against each other. The scent of sweat and sweet shots surrounded me as I danced with my flatmates to the latest Calvin Harris beats on a beer-soaked dancefloor. I’d not drank alcohol since George had left that afternoon, wanting to have a clear head. Instead, I attempted to forget him by dancing until everything hurt. I wanted my brain to stop. The one positive was that the moment with George on the sofa had put an end to Jamie’s advances, but at what cost? I hadn’t heard from George since he left the flat. Maybe Adele had invited him partying? Or he was avoiding me and what happened.
Had the interview gone well? George would have smashed it. Although I was full of hope for him, I couldn’t ignore the thing that hurt my heart and made me want to dance until I couldn’t feel anymore. Had I lost my best friend?
I let the beat thread through my limbs as I closed my eyes and let go. But every couple of seconds I opened my eyes and searched for his face in the crowd. Occasionally a hand touched my shoulder, and I’d twist, hoping to see his smile, and each time disappointment hit my gut as I came face to face with a stranger. The couples flirting within my eye line were a reminder of what we could have if we both felt the same way. Why had I waited so long to get to this place? What if it was one-sided? Were his reactions the result of hornyness that he’d now worked out of his system with a stranger?
I let all the questions out with a sigh and writhed my hips to the song. George had helped me recognise how sexy I was. Even if that knowledge was all I got from today, then it was a win. Sweat beaded my chest and slowly dripped down beneath the black satin slip dress I’d borrowed from my flatmate, Minnie. It was indecent, and I was so hot that it stuck to my skin. My feet would hurt in the morning, but I didn’t care, I was a fucking goddess in it, especially as I’d partnered it with sky-high black heels. The dress hit at the top of my thighs giving me legs that “went on for miles”. I ran my hands through my shoulder-length hair, closed my eyes and let go. The beat consumed me.
“That guy,” a shout that was as quiet as a whisper in my ear came from Minnie.
“Huh?” I asked, struggling out of my disorientated state.
“There’s a guy over there, near the bar. I can’t see his face properly, but I swear he’s staring over here at you,” she shouted. “He’s been looking for like five minutes.”
I squinted at where she was pointing, but I couldn’t see past the group to my right. It looked like some rugby players were out, even in my heels they eclipsed my view.
“Oh shit, he’s coming over.” She shimmied by my side. I’d made her promise that she wouldn’t let any guys try it on with me. I wasn’t in the mood tonight.
Suddenly it was as if the crowds parted to let him through.
“Oh my God,” she screamed in my ear. “It’s that radio presenter George Webster. I’m not standing in his way. Grace, you’d be lucky to have him.”
I knew he must have seen my Instagram. I’d unashamedly posted a picture of Minnie and me taken from the ladies toilets. I’d accompanied the photo with a tag to hint where we were dancing with the hope of baiting him. Minnie had called it a thirst trap because I was trying to get his attention with my sexy outfit. I couldn’t argue I’d posted it only with him in mind.
He nodded a hello at Minnie as he bent down and growled in my ear. “I hoped I’d find you here.”
A beaming grin hit my face. I didn’t want to play it cool with George anymore. “How did the interview go?”
“It was amazing. Adele divulged things she always used to refuse to talk about in interviews before. My boss said it was the best interview I’ve ever done. Today all my dreams came true.”
I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him hard, grateful he was still bent low. “I’m so happy for you.” He lifted me in the air and spun me around, making me giggle in delight. By the time he popped me back down on the floor on my wobbly heels, I was breathless. Being so close to him, his heat against me had left me more flushed than I’d expected.
“I think I just showed my knickers to the club,” I said through giggles.
“Lucky club,” he joked. “I was wondering if we could chat later.”
I nodded as the sweat on my chest trickled down underneath the front of my dress. I swore George watched the bead travel. He stared at my breasts as if he could see beneath the satin. “No, bra?” he mouthed.
I shook my head as wetness collected in my knickers.
He smiled broadly and started to dance with our group. We were surrounded by people but only looked at each other. What was he going to say? Couldn’t we have our chat now?
We fell into his flat, my heels hanging off my finger. The sun was coming up as he softly closed the front door. My housemates had gone back to the flat, but somehow we’d ended up at his apartment. I couldn’t sleep even if I wanted to. It was time for the chat.
He took my hand and led me over to the sofa. His hand was warm, and my nerves fell away. I was with my best friend now, and whatever we said we had each other’s best interests at heart.
I dropped my shoes to the floor and tucked my legs beneath me, revealing my knickers in the process. George watched with an upturned mouth and raised eyebrows, but he didn’t comment. I sat against the soft leather facing him. With his long legs, he wasn’t going to tuck his under, but he looked at me anyway. There must have been a window open somewhere because the tweeting of the dawn chorus carried on a slight breeze.
“What’s going on, Grace,” he asked. “Was tonight about pretending to be your boyfriend again, or is there something going on between us. You’re my best friend, and that is important to me.”
“It’s important to me too,” I said so quietly that my voice was barely a whisper. “Tonight wasn’t about pretending to be anything. I’ve loved you as my best friend since we were kids, but something changed recently. I don’t understand it, and I’m scared of losing our friendship over a mistake.”
“Was earlier a mistake for you?” He furrowed his brow, and I fought my need to run my thumb across it and ease his confusion.
“No, it was one of the hottest moments of my life,” I confessed. In our twelve years together, I’d never felt like that with Brian. I’d been desperate for George to kiss me all night, but instead, he’d laughed with my friends, taken photos with fans in the club and danced until dawn. He’d stayed by my side all night. He was the same George who at our friend’s wedding had listened to my problems and taken care of me.
“Mine too,” he confessed.
I scooted closer. “But you’ve slept with so many women. You’ve met all kinds of celebrities who must have given you their number. Remember that one who wanted you to call her. The one that was in that American girl group; The Kitty Cats.”
He laughed and shrugged. “Yes, but thankfully nothing came of that. Grace, I think there’s something you should know.” He took my hands between his. They were rough from his workouts. The familiarity of being held by him was significant. It felt like home. “I’ve fancied you since we were twelve.”
“What?” I held his hands tighter. I thought back to the gangly teenage boy who took a while to grow into his body. At first, he was all limbs without any control over them. He used his humour to stop the bullies, and with that same humour, he’d transformed into a star on the radio.
“It was a teenage crush, at first. But then as we grew up, it turned into more. Do you remember when we played Truth or Dare, and we had to kiss?”
“Vividly. I can’t believe I vomited on your shoes.”
He smiled shyly. “I thought that would be my chance to make you fall for me.” He pinned me with his eyes, and my heart beat faster as he revealed a new side. His honesty made him vulnerable, and I didn’t dare look away.
I inched closer, encouraging him to open his heart to me. “And I ruined it.”
His laugh was brief but sincere. “Yeah. But I decided then it was time to let you go and live your life. I wanted you to go to university and work towards your plan. Then during uni or if I could wait, graduation, I would tell you how I felt and see what you thought. I wanted the opportunity to get over my crush too, but I wondered if we had a chance.”
“Is that why you told me to screw around instead of study all the time?” Even after hours of dancing, I could smell his aftershave. I breathed in the vanilla and grapefruit scent. It was the same smell that had been on his pillow the other night. It was like breathing our shared past. “Hold on. I recall you were screwing around a lot at university too.”
“But I wanted you to see the world. I knew your plan was important to you, but I didn’t want you to miss out either. And I wasn’t having as much sex as you thought. Don’t get me wrong, I was no innocent, and I have had a lot since.” My wide-eyed stare at the conversation made him hesitate. “Not that you need to know the details. Anyway, one night during our first year, I decided I couldn’t wait any longer. I was on the train from London to Birmingham, and I got the message that you’d met someone called Brian, and you thought he might be the one to fit with your plan.”
I dropped my head with embarrassment. Was that the reason I’d started dating Brian?
George tucked a finger under my chin and lifted my face to meet his eyes. “It’s okay. I didn’t know how you felt about me, let alone how you’d feel knowing that I’d been hiding this from you after all this time. What if you thought our friendship was a lie?”
“No, I cared about you first and foremost as a friend. I hoped my the crush would fade. When you started going out with Brian, I resigned myself to you and him forever.” His Adam’s apple bobbed with every nervy swallow.
“And did it fade?” My breath caught in my throat.
“Yes.” I attempted to stop my shoulders from slumping. “Instead, I fell in love with you.”
“But I don’t expect you to feel the same. I just needed you to know. I couldn’t keep this in any longer. But no matter what you think or feel this friendship is still the most important thing in my life. I never want to lose that. But I need to know what was going on earlier when we kissed. That wasn’t a pretend boyfriend kiss.”
“All my life I’ve been following this plan and I wonder if somewhere along the line I forgot to enjoy life. The times we spent together when we were younger brought me joy. I remember going to parties, listening to hours and hours of music in your room and even volunteering at that retirement home. You were the one I could share my true self with. I knew you wouldn’t judge me. But I got caught up in the plan and I started a relationship with a man I’m not sure I ever loved. I believed that if I just stuck to the plan, I’d be happy.”
“And what made you the happiest?”
“You, always you. Wherever you were, I was happy. But the sexual thing? I don’t know where that came from. Maybe when I reset my life and started at university, I found something that was missing. I found me, and that version of me, the real me, wanted you. I want you for as long as this works.”
Sunshine poured through the window. When George went to university, I’d bought him a prism suncatcher that when he stuck to his window and the sun shone rainbows would fly around his room. He’d kept it all this time and hung it in his fancy London apartment. Rainbows covered the walls around us. It was a symbol of hope. But did I dare let myself believe we had a future? We had an incredible past, and maybe it could happen.
He stared back at me. The grey of his eyes left me mesmerised. “Are you sure this isn’t because Jamie rejected you tonight? I saw him kissing another “MILF”,” he teased.
I punched him in the shoulder as I pouted.
He quickly cupped my face and drew me to him. I leaned close as his lips met mine. The kiss was different from earlier. It was hot as hell but tender too. He tasted of sweet strawberry shots. I closed my eyes, and my hands travelled up to his face as he took the kiss deeper. George’s eyelashes fluttered against my skin; they were like little butterflies. My heart beat so fast that I wasn’t sure if his heart had merged with mine to create a frenetic beat. I eased his mouth open with my tongue and explored. His scent in my lungs and his hands against my skin felt right, and we kissed like two people who had been waiting a lifetime to share a caress.
Eventually, we pulled back at the same time as if synchronised. The smile on his face melted any trace of worry in my heart.
“We’re really doing this then?” he asked, his vulnerability clear when the question slipped from his lips.
“I can’t believe we waited so long,” I replied with a grin so wide I knew my face would hurt in the morning. Shit, it was already morning.
I took his hand and led him to the bedroom. He may have been a giant compared to me, but I knew I could lead him anywhere I wanted.
“Give me a moment? I need to go to the bathroom,” I said simply. With any other guy, I would have been too anxious to admit I needed the loo halfway through foreplay. But not with George. Doing it with a best friend made it easier.
“Ah, the old Gracie bladder,” he joked. “Just hurry, I want you back as soon as possible. It’s time I gave you my best.”
“As long as it includes you deep inside me, I’ll be happy,” I replied swiftly. George swallowed noisily, and I delighted in my ability to turn him on with a phrase.
I left the bathroom and found him sat on the bed in his boxers.
“I wanted to undress you,” I teased as I stepped closer and stood between his legs. I ran my hands across his chest. He was so broad now. My fingertips trailed a line across his pecs and down his abs. He tightened his stomach as I got lower and a sigh caught in my throat. He was beautiful.
His hands stroked the back of my thighs as they travelled towards my bum. “Next time you can do what you want with me, but I’ve been waiting for this moment for a very long time, and I don’t want my clothes to get in the way.” He stared up at me in awe. The heat between my legs burned as he reached up to my knickers and dragged them down my legs.
I stepped out gracefully before his hands moved up again. “I do have one question.” His voice vibrated through me. “Why do you keep wearing things that I get the urge to undo?”
I laughed; he had a point. The dress had a ribbon back. Our moment with my dressing gown belt had been on my mind when Minnie showed the dress. I turned to give him access to the ribbon, lifting my hair and holding it out of his way. His fingertips brushed my skin, heating it with his touch. The end of the ribbon skimmed my lower back, and he made a point of stroking me there as he undid it. My skin tingled as he ran his fingers across it.
The dress fell to the floor. He feathered kissed across my hips and gave my bum a little bite. I glared at him over my shoulder, but I was immediately transfixed by the way his pupils had dilated, and his mouth fell open. “Fucking hell. How did I get this lucky?”
“Before I turn, I just want to warn you that I don’t always love my body. I’ve worried for years that my breasts are too big, considering I’m only five foot.”
He choked. “They can’t be too big for me. Don’t forget I am a big guy and they won’t be bigger than my hands. Also, what the fuck, Grace? I’m pretty sure my mouth was on them earlier.”
I laughed and gave him a wink.
His laugh was strangled. “Now stop trying to distract me and show me your tits.”
“I’ve never heard you say tits before.”
“I’ve never heard you say tits either.” The way he said it brought a jolt of need to my belly. How dirty could he be? He was blessed with a voice that could make me do all sorts just to hear it say my name. He licked closer and closer to my nipple, drawing out the tension and groaning as he pleasured me. His hand slipped down to between my legs. It was like our moment in Grand Central but a billion times hotter.
George stroked the inside of my thighs just beneath my pussy. Each moment was a tease that ramped up the anticipation. Maybe it was payback for the years he’d imagined this. Wetness pooled between my legs, but it didn’t make him move any faster.
“Please, George,” I moaned. If anything, it made him move slower.
I looked down and watched the tip of his tongue circle my nipple. Arousal coursed through my blood, pushing me higher. My legs trembled, and a whimper left my mouth, surprising both of us. He smiled up at me, a fire in his eyes before dropping his head back to my breast.
I was drowsy with desire, and when I thought I couldn’t take anymore his thumb slid across my clit, and his lips brushed my nipple. It sent a spark of electricity right back to my pussy. I shoved my fingers through his hair, pulling at the strands as he stroked me higher. He thrust one then two fingers quickly inside me, his mouth never leaving my breasts.
I swore he was learning what made me cry out the loudest as he licked and sucked my breasts and pumped his fingers inside me while thumbing my clit. Maybe pressing all the buttons at the station had improved his dexterity. I squeezed my thighs to make him move faster and wiggled my hips to force his fingers deeper.
He had me close already, it had been building all day, and it wasn’t going to take much more to push me over the edge. Cool air replaced his mouth as my breast slipped from his mouth.
I groaned with displeasure.
The reprimanding look he gave in return sent my pulse racing. I wanted everything he had to give me. I closed my eyes to accept the waves of pleasure from his fingers, but his deep timbre caught my attention.
“I’ve got a lot of fantasies about your body that we need to make real. I’m not going to stop making you cum for hours. I can’t wait to have my tongue inside you,” he said licking his thumb before returning it to run circles around my clit.
He sucked on my nipples and thrust his fingers back inside me, building me higher. The pressure radiated from my pussy and my limbs quivered as I teetered on the edge. As if coaxing me to orgasm he fingered me quicker. The pressure was too much and I threw my head back not wanting the moment to end yet desperate to climax. The noises of my soaking pussy would have freaked me out with Brian, but with George, I loved how dirty and decadent I was. I couldn’t wait to see his come face. There was so much I needed to do with him. The idea of all the different ways we would fuck overwhelmed me.
Did he sense this? Suddenly he pushed deep and bit my nipple. At the intensity of the pleasure and pain, I came on his fingers. I screamed his name as my legs shook around his hand. He held me against him until I was sure I wasn’t going to fall, and then he lifted me and pulled me onto his body. I hadn’t considered this benefit of our height difference; he could take me where he wanted me. I knew I held the power, though. He wouldn’t push me too far, and I was confident enough to speak up if I wanted something different. He was my best friend, and my trust for him overwhelmed me.
“Can you ride me like earlier?” he asked frantically.
With one movement, I yanked down his boxers and palmed his cock.
“You are Big G!” I squealed with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Would I be able to take all of him?
“I’ll be gentle. Take what you can manage,” George said, reading my mind.
It was the challenge I needed. I was not going to be a precious flower. I’d dreamt about George inside me all week, and I wasn’t going to stop until he was as deep as possible.
I continued to palm him, delighting in the way his face twisted with urgency. He jerked in my hand. This man had wanted me for years, and yet I was the one in control, I’d never felt so much power.
I knew he was clean. He’d insisted on taking me to the sexual health clinic before university started, just in case I got carried away with anyone when drunk. I’d made him take the tests as well in solidarity. I was on the pill for the same reasons.
I reached into his bedside table and took out some fancy lube that I’d never seen before. I took my time in dripping it onto my hand before massaging his cock. It was like silk. His eyes rolled back in his head, and I bit my lip with satisfaction. I wanted to watch him come in my hand and feel him twitch in my mouth. I squeezed around the head of his cock, distracted.
“Grace! I want to be inside you.”
“Sorry.” I smiled as his cock jerked against my palm. He jokingly glared at me, before squeezing his eyes tightly together as if he was undergoing sexual torture. “You ready?” I asked with a wink. He was fun to tease.
He let out a strangled groan in response, and I straddled him. I pumped him one more time before slipping him inside me. The first inches were comfortable, but then I took him gradually further inside me. My hips attempted to grind before I was ready. What was with my body? It was desperate for him.
We panted in unison until finally he was buried deep.
“Sit up,” I demanded.
“But won’t that hurt?”
“Sit the fuck up, George. I want to kiss you. We have spent our lives not kissing, and I want your mouth on mine as you cum inside me.” He didn’t argue again.
I held tightly onto his shoulders as I lifted myself before dropping back down. His skin burnt mine as I rode him hard. His chest chair rubbed and tickled my nipples. I wanted his lips on mine, but the zips of pleasure filling my body as he kissed my chest and neck had me moan as if I was trying to wake the apartment building. I rode him faster as he bit and sucked my neck, leaving his mark on my flesh. My thighs and butt got the best workout as I pumped my legs. He filled me completely, and I knew that he was filling me emotionally too. I didn’t care how soppy it sounded I knew it, and I knew I wanted to be with him beyond some mind-numbing fucks.
I was on the brink of orgasm. I pulled his head to mine and kissed him hard. Our tongues fought for control, as our bodies had battled. The urge to come fought against the need to experience an endless pleasure. I’d only longed for this for a week. He’d wanted this for years. Sweat dripped between our bodies, and as I had hold of his face, he gripped my arse, pulling me onto him again and again.
He squeezed my flesh hinting he was close. I knew my orgasm would rip through me and trigger his. Every thrust of my hips met a push of his pelvis, and soon his cock was hitting me deeper and deeper. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on tight. I kissed him with years of repressed thoughts as if we were eighteen again and dared to kiss in front of our mates.
He released me from the kiss to growl his own needs. “You’re so fucking sexy. I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long, but I never thought it would be this good. I’m so hard, and I just want to come inside you.” He kissed me again, his lips hitting mine before he eased them apart and massaged my tongue with his. I rode him hard, moaning in his mouth as his grip on my butt tightened. I squeezed my thighs and pressed myself against his chest as I bounced faster and faster refusing to break the kiss.
My whole body began to shake and it was as if arousal filled my veins. Suddenly my orgasm obliterated everything. It rushed through me and I pulled him close and cried into his mouth. He came too. His liquid shot inside me. Filling me just as his cock had. I rode it out, pumping softer and softer. I had a lot more planned for us and I didn’t want to break him.
Eventually, we collapsed on the bed, still holding each other tight. We were panting hard, and sweat dripping down our skin.
I whispered in his ear, “I don’t know what the plan is for the next thirty years, but I want to spend the next thirty hours doing that again and again.”
“We will, trust me. Hopefully, we’ll be doing it for the next thirty years too,” George replied breathlessly as he held me tightly.
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Don’t forget to read part 1 first, you can find it here: Part 1
Last Night a DJ Saved My Life
The bang of a door dragged me from my sleep.
“Oh, God, no,” I grunted. It was like a gang of bikers swinging metal chains were at a rock concert inside my head. I tried to swallow, but my tongue was thick and dry against the roof of my mouth. Please, I need water. Maybe Brian had done the thing he never did and left me a glass.
Suddenly everything came rushing back to me. There was no Brian in my life or job or apartment. Where am I? Had I gone home with the Aussie barman? No, he was gay, I think. I had propositioned him, though. I rubbed my face with my palms. Did I return to university and sleep with an eighteen-year-old? I’d never live it down. Oh shit, they’re going to call me a cougar, or worse. I groaned louder.
Slowly I opened my eyes, scared where I’d find myself in. Crisp
cotton bedding that was as soft as a cloud on my hanging head and blinds that
hid a window stretching from the ceiling to the floor made me gasp. I was in George’s
bed. A safe space. When we were younger, I used to sleep next to him at all the
parties, and we were always platonic. But we weren’t young anymore. I eyed the
space next to me, but it was untouched. Where had he slept?
On top of the round bedside table was two full glasses of water and paracetamol. George knew me too well. I gulped down the pills and both drinks before flopping my head back on the pillow. I pulled the duvet up to my nose and breathed in the mixture of vanilla and grapefruit. He always smelt so good. Even his scent on the bedding made my headache better.
Snippets of last night returned like a haunting. I’d
propositioned the barman and asked George if I could see his cock. For fuck’s
sake. I buried my head beneath the covers.
A soft knock came from the door. What time was it? Lectures
started today, and uni was a train ride away. I tried to distinguish outside
noises to give me a hint at what time of day it might be, but his windows
muffled the sounds of London. How many women had slept in this bed, waking up
to his warm body beside them? Did he wake them by stroking between their legs
and caressing them gently or did he pin their hands above them and lick down
their bodies before thrusting inside them? My body seared as he knocked again.
Fantasies about your best friend weren’t allowed.
“Come in,” I replied sheepishly from underneath the duvet.
“Only if you’re decent,” he replied. I pulled the duvet back
to see what I was wearing. Shit. When did I take my dress off? It had to be in
the night. I wouldn’t have done it in front of George. We’d had some boundaries
even when we were younger. So why can’t you remember what you did? And why are
you hoping he removed it?
I hid back under the duvet now desperate for answers.
“I’ve hidden my decency for now, but I’m going to need
answers. Come in.” He strode straight to the windows and pulled back the
curtains. Daylight forced its way inside the bedroom, and I sunk deeper into
“Not feeling your best?” he smirked as the sunshine burnt my
I peaked out from beneath the duvet and marvelled how good
he looked in comparison to my slummy self. His long-sleeved baseball shirt was
tight enough to remind me that I’d touched his solid pecs the night before. My
gaze travelled down to his jeans that hinted at the package beneath. Oh shit, I
talked about his cock. Did I dream about it too?
Why did he have to have such a sexy voice? My colleagues had
often talked about his sexy voice. I’d noticed it, but now I wanted him to
whisper filthy things in my ear as he pushed inside me. I couldn’t stop staring
at his package. Did it move when I was staring at it? Why do I suddenly care
about his cock now? Maybe it was because I was dealing with a long term build-up
of hornyness or because I was around students who never stopped fucking. I remembered again the way George said dick. I
needed to get laid as soon as possible and not by my best friend.
“Finished staring?” My eyes flipped to his, and I was
relieved to find them crinkled in amusement. “What’s going on with you, Grace?”
I paused and took another breath, filling myself with his
scent. That only made things worse. I should leave as quickly and politely as
“I think that breaking up with Brian and then surrounding
myself with students who shag like rabbits has made me horny as fuck,” I
confessed. Don’t stare at his dick again. But it drew me in, and my gaze
flicked that way. His package twitched. It definitely twitched that time!
“You told me all about your hornyness last night. I thought
that was you in drunk mode.” He sat on the edge of the bed. Was he trying to hide
his cock from me by sitting down? Had I stared that much? Nah, we were friends.
Midge and Big G. Oh shit, now I’m thinking about his Big G again. “Especially
when you tried to barter with me so that you could see my dick.”
“What?” I covered my face in shame and also because he’d repeated
the word dick. The heat was coursing through my body.
He eased the duvet back so he could see my face. His grey eyes were dancing. Was I still drunk? Eyes don’t dance. They seemed to sparkle like never before. “You told me that I could undress you if I showed you my, and I’m quoting here, ‘massive, panty-dropping cock’.”
The heat was now between my legs, and I didn’t want it to
go. Even with a hangover, I felt alive like never before. My stomach flipped,
and my pussy pulsed. I had missed out on so much with Brian, but I didn’t want George
really, I couldn’t. But I had to admit that a big part of me, and not just the
part that was wet and aching, did.
Why did his voice have to be so deep and seductive? I knew
it was his job to entertain millions with his voice as a radio presenter, but
this was me trying to hold on to any dignity I still had.
“And did you undress me?” The idea excited me. My heart rose
as I imagined his finger slipping inside my dress and undoing the knot that
kept the material together. Was his skin against mine as he lifted the hem and
cupped my bum. Did he squeeze it briefly to see my reaction? I wanted his hands
pushing the material off my shoulders and revealing my breasts hidden by the
thin lace material of my bra. I fought the pull to squirm against my knickers.
I fixed him with a gaze. Humour left the room. Why had we
never got together? In sixth form he was too busy screwing anything, teachers
included, but never me. It was like our friendship was the most important thing
to both of us, and we didn’t want to risk it. Then at university, I met Brian,
and that was that. But I’d never been attracted to George before, had I?
“Did you undress me, George?” Please say yes. Maybe I’m
still drunk because this isn’t me.
“No. I let you do that once I’d left the room. I needed my
sleep for work,” he said quietly. His emotion was indistinguishable. I was too
old to be having these feelings about my best mate. He was one of the few
friends I had, and I couldn’t risk that.
“Phew.” I forced out my laugh. “You weren’t late for work,
As one of the best radio presenters in London, I knew
nothing mattered more to George than his job. He’d reached his dream of being a
breakfast radio presenter a couple of years earlier. It was the most coveted
show. Only the best got to be breakfast hosts, and he was undoubtedly the best.
The only problem was the way it fucked with his life. That was his other reason
for hook-ups. Breakfast presenters were famous for being too exhausted for
proper relationships. He was up every weekday morning before sunrise. He got
invites to the best parties but was too tired to attend them.
“No, I was fine. I did tell my millions of listeners about
my night and how my best friend was propositioning me.”
I sat up straight. “Please no, tell you me you didn’t.”
His gaze dropped down. The duvet had fallen, and my bra was
showing. In the old days, it would have meant nothing, but there was heat in
his eyes. His gaze seared my skin, and I licked my lips in anticipation, holding
my sigh tightly. Something had changed between us and I wanted more. My nipples
hardened, and he looked at my face before rubbing his hand across the stubble
on his chin. What would that stubble feel like between my legs? I wanted him to
scratch my thighs as he licked my pussy. I ached at the possibility of his soft
lips against my nipples.
The ticking clock brought me to my senses. “Hold on, if
you’re just getting home, that means it’s nearly lunchtime.” I jumped up; my
blushes already forgotten.
It was Monday, and I had my first lecture in a couple of
hours. I couldn’t miss that.
George was silent as I ran around the room. He stared
between my legs. I dragged my dress from the floor and briefly glanced in the
mirror to see what had caught George’s attention. The pink lace of my knickers
was darker at my pussy. Was I that wet? Had George made me wet before?
I threw the dress on and shoved my fingers through my hair as
I attempted to detangle the knots. Where were my purse and shoes? George
remained frozen on the bed, his legs wide. He watched everything I did with
raised eyebrows. I didn’t have time to worry about it, although it would
consume me later.
“I guess I’m going to do the walk of shame,” I joked giving
one last look to his parted lips as I dashed out the door.
“You wish,” he called back although it seemed like he was on
a delay. He was right, though. I wished it more than I wished I had time to get
to my halls before the lecture. I wanted to stay in that bed and scream louder
than any of his conquests had before. The reality would struggle to live up to
my fantasies, but I wanted to give reality a chance and find out for myself.
“Homeless, dumped and fired. Sorry I took “voluntary redundancy”, i.e. leave, or we’ll fire you because the company can’t afford to keep you or the rest of hundred people we’re offering voluntary redundancy to.
“My life couldn’t get any worse right? Oh yeah, I lost half my friends, and my parents wouldn’t speak to me. I’ve followed my life plan since I was twelve years old. I used my £25 birthday money and opened my first bank account to save for university. Then I watched my best mate, George, who was born on the same day as me, waste all of his birthday money on CDs from HMV and the biggest McDonald’s ever.
“At university, I met my fiancé, ex-fiancé, Brian. We were studying accounting, and it was his ultimate dream to be a wealthy accountant. I was interested in psychology, but that didn’t fit into my long- term plan of comfortable job, married by twenty-five and first child by twenty-eight so I chose accounting. George rolled his eyes when I told him I’d applied to study accounting. He nearly disowned me when I told him that Brian and I were an official couple. “University is about sex and having lots of it,” he’d shouted down the phone as in the background giggling ladies had screamed his name at his sixth party that week. Maybe university life was about sex for lots of people, including George, but I had a plan.
“Over time, my plan got harder to stick to. I didn’t have the wedding ring or baby by twenty-eight, but as Brian said, we were both completing our qualifications to be certified accountants. We were climbing the ladder. “There isn’t time to do everything,” he reminded me at an old school friend’s wedding as we’d watched George avoid the advances of one of the bridesmaids. It was George who’d sat with me when Brian was called into the office late that Saturday. I’d drank a lot of tequila, cried on his shoulder about not loving Brian that much anyway and then he’d held my hair back as I’d chucked up the contents of my stomach behind the marquee. I’d refused to talk about it after that, assuring George that I did love Brian and it must have been the evil drink talking. But he knew me well enough to know when I was honest. I should have done something about it then.
“Instead, I’m thirty-one, Brian and I have decided we don’t
love each other and I’ve moved out of his apartment. Our friends have picked
sides, even though it was amicable, and my parents aren’t speaking to me
because I’ve diverted from the plan and it must be my fault “because Brian is
just the best, isn’t he?”. He was sensible, good at saving and had a brilliant
job. What more could a woman want?
“Sex! I haven’t had sex in a year, and before then it was
mediocre. That’s what a woman wants; incredible, mind-blowing, headboard
breaking sex. The sort that makes you scream if you’re a screamer, that makes
you take a photo of yourself in the toilets at work because you’re soaking wet,
and that makes you stay in bed all day because you need to do it again and
again. But that doesn’t exist beyond books. Right?
“And now, thanks to my godfather who is a university
chancellor I’m back at university studying Sports Psychology and living in
halls. Over the last week, I’ve felt ancient around these freshers. I reckon at
least twenty of them have propositioned me, but I’m way too old to sleep with
them, aren’t I?”
“That’s great, lovely, but why are you telling me this? I asked if you wanted another glass of wine,” the Aussie bartender, who’d been supplying all I needed to drown my sorrows that night, stated. Glasses clinked together as he tidied up the now quiet bar. It was depressing to be alone in a bar at eleven o’clock on a Sunday evening, but I was too drunk to care. I toyed with the hem of my wrap around summer dress. It hit just above the knee, except when the wind got up, and I flashed anyone lucky enough to be watching. That might explain the come-ons I had today. Maybe if it blew up in front of the bartender, it would turn him on. I contemplated giving him flash as a taster. “Except now I’m cutting you off. No more alcohol for you, in fact, it’s time you went home.”
“You don’t want to have sex with me either?” I slurred
before pursing my lips and giving him a wobbly-eyed wink.
His eye roll wasn’t subtle. “I’m gay, and even if I wasn’t,
you’re way too drunk. Is there someone I can call to get you home safely?”
Who did I have? Not Brian, not my parents, and hardly any friends. They’d all be in bed getting ready for the Monday morning grind. One name popped into my head, and I slid my phone over to Scott, the bartender with George’s name and number on the screen. Scott’s sleeves rose slightly to show his tattooed forearms.
“Oh, I like those,” I’d whispered before I dropped my head to my arms and let my eyes drift closed. My dark wavy long-bob hid the world from my eyes. I was so tired. It had been a manic couple of months since the worst day of my life, and now it was the end of Freshers week. I was exhausted keeping up with eighteen-year-olds while wondering how my life went so wrong. The chatter from the remaining patrons lulled me to sleep.
The next thing I remembered was the voice of an angel
whispering in my ear. “Grace, can you hear me? Wake up, Grace.”
With his soft home counties accent, he called my name a bit
louder. I let out a breath that made my full lips vibrate noisily. Then I
drifted off and returned to the lovely dream I’d been having about a sexy,
straight bartender who held me against the wall with his thick tattooed
“GRACE!” the angel had turned to a devil and was hollering
in my ear.
I lifted my head slightly and side-eyed the devil. A grin spread across my face when the fluffy, brown hair came into view. “George, you’re here. When did you get here?” My enthusiasm was like that of a teenage girl at a pop concert. I turned to the barman. “Aussie dude, meet my friend George. He’s the tallest man in the world. How tall are you, George?”
“The same height I’ve been since school,” he replied with a
roll of his eyes. I wasn’t so drunk I didn’t notice. I coughed into the sleeve
of my denim jacket. Gross. When did my mouth fumes get so bad? My stomach
dropped as I reached for my wine glass. Damn, it was empty.
I remembered I was talking to someone about my bestie. Of course, the hot bartender. “George peaked early. When we were at school people called us Midget and the Giant. Cause I’m 5 foot nothing to his 6 foot 4. Take off your shoes, and I’ll walk around in them like we used to. It will make Aussie Dude laugh. He needs a laugh; he’s had a hard day. This crazy drunk woman has been telling him her life story.” I giggled at myself.
What did they say about men with big shoes? Oh yeah, they had big feet. No, that wasn’t it. Something about their dicks? I side-eyed George’s crotch. It had to be massive. Why didn’t I know, though? He was my school bestie who at parties I’d share a bed with. He was too busy getting with any female with a pulse to look at tiny, yet curvy me. I’d once been in bed pretending to sleep, after my eighteenth birthday, when he’d had sex with some guy’s older sister on the floor. He thought I was asleep, but I could see what was happening through the reflection in the mirror. I’d never told him about that. He’d kneeled against her as she played with her clit, whispering filthy things as he thrust into her. As she’d screamed his name, he’d covered her mouth, probably worried they’d wake me. But it was his eyes tightly closed and teeth clenched as he came that I’d stared at. I’d wanked over that memory a couple of times at university, even after I met Brian.
George was squatting so that he’s grey eyes were level with mine. All my accounting friends had wanted to fuck him at some point, including my very married boss, but he had kept them at bay. From what I could gather, George had semi-regular secret hook-ups that had no connection to his everyday life. And these days if he wasn’t busy working he was busy exercising. He’d decided to do an ironman competition and was working to be at his peak fitness. “Grace, sweetheart, have you been telling the poor guy about your plan?”
At the reminder of the plan, my face fell. Oh no, I was going straight from happy, annoying drunk to maudlin drunk. “I told Scott that I broke the plan. Everything is broken, Georgey Boy.” I liked to call him that sometimes because I knew it annoyed him. It tended to be a drunk thing.
I dropped my head against the bar, not caring about the bang it made as it hit the wood. Surely that should hurt? I caught Scott’s whispers as he caught George up with what I’d told him. George knew most of it, and he’d been the one who’d convinced me to go back to university. Maybe I should take a leaf out of his book and be shagging my way around uni, but they were all so young! They didn’t even know how good Craig David was the first time around or what a pager was. I laughed loudly to myself, but I wasn’t sure why. I was bladdered. I sensed a couple of people looking over, but I ignored them and played with the cord from my burgundy dress instead. The V at my chest wasn’t low enough to be indecent. How low would I have to bend to show George my boobs? Would he even care? I was too horny, and he was my bestie. I flashbacked to him having sex on my floor. If he was as good at it as I remembered when he was eighteen, he must be Cassanova now. Maybe he’d be the one to give me that one-off experience?
“Okay, Grace. I’m not taking you back to uni now. You can stay at mine,” George helped me off the chair. I got a whiff of his hair, it smelt of grapefruit and was damp at the ends. Had I got him out the shower? I must have been horny because instantly I imagined him soaping himself up as the water cascaded down. What was going on in my head?
My feet hit the sticky floor. What had happened to my heels? As I looked up, I found myself staring at George’s chest. I reached out a hand. When did his pecs get so hard? Even his t-shirt couldn’t hide it.
“Damn, George. You’ve been working out.” I stroked a hand down his chest to his abs and giggled when he sucked in a breath.
“Looks like I’m going to have to deal with you the same way
I did when we were at sixth form,” he said with a smile. He took my hand in his,
and before I had the chance to ask if we were going to dance, he tossed me over
his shoulder. “Let’s go, Midge.”
Ah, the sweet version of my nickname from school. “Don’t
forget my purse, Big G,” I chuckled. At school, I’d started calling him Big G
when he called me Midge. Our mates thought it was because I’d seen his cock,
which according to his exes was big, girthy and every woman’s dream. “Or my
shoes. And don’t let anyone see my knickers, they’re my favourites, Big G.”
I giggled again.
“Why do you keep laughing?” he replied, popping a hand on my
bum to keep my dress down while striding to the door. The heat from his hands caressed
my bum. I gave Scott a wave as we headed outside. The rumble of traffic filled
“Because Mr Strong Man, I’ve just realised I’ve never seen
the real Big G close up and I’m wondering how big he is. Can I see it tonight?
I’m sure he’d cheer me up,” I tried to coo.
He gave my bum a tap, and I covered my mouth to hold back
“No, Grace, you can’t see my dick tonight. I’m sorry you’re not
having the best time at the moment, but I think it will improve. And just so
you know, I’ve missed drunk you. You’re always the most innocent, so when you
get drunk, it’s even better. I’m glad you’re not with Brian, he didn’t deserve
you,” he replied, but I wasn’t listening. There was something in the way he’d tapped
my bum and then said dick that made me ache to have him inside me. Would he
spank me if I asked nicely?
I don’t know if it was the thought of his dick or just the alcohol,
but I must have passed out soon after with his voice repeating the word dick
over and over in my head.