Belonging #2 Read online

“Morning, sleepyhead,” are the words that wake me up as he whispers in my ear. What is this? Is it love, or infatuation?

  We never spoke; we kissed and he led me to the place he used to live once before. No words were exchanged between our lips as he guided me to his bed, and I didn’t try to resist. I had been lying to myself for years. I wanted him, needed him and only him. He was married, and now he’s a widower, making him look even more attractive than he did once before.

  “Why?” I ask as I lay and face him.

  “You can leave if you want.”

  I put my fingers to his lips. Leave? His letter had been explicit. I must come here and do as he says or I would have to pay him back. How could I leave?

  I’m naked on his bed, having been fulfilled in as many ways as possible. Even in the comfort of his king sized bed, I need to know the answers to the questions running around in my head. He exposes my naked body on top of the bed in one swift movement as he yanks the cover off me.

  Then, he commands, “Leave!”

  I sit up and wonder if he’s serious, but with steam practically coming out of his head, I know he’s deadly serious. I kneel up, and like a hooker who has been paid, grab my dress and all my belongings off the floor. I put on my dress, thinking all this time I’d been free to go, but had waited here like a jilted bride waiting for her groom at the altar and he never showed up. He had tricked me, made me believe I needed to be here.

  Now, he’s on the bed, kneeling and watching me. I turn my back to him and at last, when I have my shoes on, I put my hand on the doorknob. I pause. Did he really trick me again? He doesn’t make a sound until I open the door and he says, “Walk out of the door and never, ever come back. I never want to see your face again.”

  His emerald eyes, his soft, silky hands, his firm accent voice…I would never hear that again? Is that what I want? I question and nod to myself. Of course that’s what I want, but as time freezes, I stand debating it over and over again.

  I feel my dress slip off and pool at my feet.

  I feel my bra unclasp and slip down my arms to drop to the floor.

  I feel my thong being tugged off like it’s a fragile piece of string.

  I stand there naked, facing the door, and the only words he speaks gently in my ear are, “Spread your legs. This is going to be a long day and night.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I spread my legs, and he shuts the door at the same time I close my eyes. I smell his musk…his strong, masculine musk. Even first thing this morning, there is no change to his aroma. It’s the same as the night before, strong, masculine and crying out my name.

  My hairs stand up as if they’re attracted to him like a magnet. They want to pull him close. I want to say something, anything that would help me figure out what’s going on. I should’ve run out the door, back to Grandma, back to Mum, the life I know, the life I was going to before he interrupted it. I knew what he wanted and I gave it to him.

  A tear escapes my eyes as he turns me around to face him. I can’t see him, but I know once I look into those green eyes, I’ll melt. I gasp as I feel his length brush against my thigh. I’m naked with only my heels on, and he’s so close, close enough my erect nipples are aligned with his. Even though he is six feet tall, my heels make me tower and it feels like we’re face-to-face. I hold my breath as he gently presses kisses up and down my neck. He isn’t touching me; he doesn’t need to as he stands in front of me.

  How does this man do what no man can do to me, what no man had even tried to do before—control me? He has a way of controlling me with his smile, touch and even simply his presence. I start to get wet. I don’t want to, and I frown at the idea of standing with my legs open in high heels, when I could and should be walking out the door.

  His head is between my legs and his hands around my ankles as he starts to lower himself down. I open my eyes, knowing I don’t have to look at him.

  “Don’t move,” he demands as his tongue darts straight into my wetness, and I groan. I moan at my weakness, my constant refusal to stay as far away from this man as possible.

  He holds gently onto my ankles and pierces his tongue in and out of my labia. I stand, trying not to disobey. It’s so hard, because I’m becoming weaker and weaker at the knees the more he presses against my clit. His tongue is swirling, his lips are blowing and it’s driving me wild. I know I’m so close to the edge of climaxing, and the only words that can escape my lips are, “Hmm, I’m…”

  He’s quiet as he takes control of my climax. He keeps moving slowly in and out and his fingers tease my ankles. They gently caress them as if every single movement he does warrants time and attention.

  I come, standing like a rag doll waiting to be controlled. He jumps up behind me and holds onto my breasts, pushing me against the door. This can only mean one thing: he wants relief and it’s going to be against the door.

  My head moves to the side, he slides his tongue into my mouth and I suck it. I suck it harder as his fat cock strokes my cunt. I start to get wet again. Normally, I need a rest after Kevin, but not with Roy. With Roy, we could go all night long, like we did last night, and each time, it feels like the first time.

  Roy wants me to know he controls me, and as much as I want to leave, I can’t. He never forced me; he just wants me to stay. He needs me to be the one who chooses, and I took the option of being with him.

  I clear my mind and take the pleasure he is going to give me as he enters me slowly with his length. I forgot how big he is until he thrusts it in when it wouldn’t fit anymore, and with one hand still on my breast, he focuses on my clit with the other. His fingers stroke it as he circles his hips, my pussy becoming once again acquainted with his member.

  He’s not going to pump into me.

  This is the beginning of my journey. I want to scream, but I keep sucking his tongue. I start to lap it harder as I feel his cock grinding, my pussy crying for more. I whimper as he withdraws his tongue from my mouth and asks, “What do you need me to do?”

  “Pump me.”

  “No, what do you need me to do.”

  I’m confused by the question. I need him to fuck me, but I don’t want to say that, so he continues to circulate his length. It goes round and round, and so does my arse. This time, he drops my breast and uses both hands to stroke my arse, and alternates the movement to my clit.

  I need him to fuck me, and the more I feel, the more my pussy walls tell me not to be so stubborn and just satisfy the sex. It is crying, and if it could speak, it would shout it out loud and clear. He slows his movements, making my torture feel even worse. I’m frustrated and finally blurt out, “Fuck me.”

  “Louder.”

  “Fuck me!” I shout with my head pressed against the door, partly because of the force he has on me, and partly because I’m exhausted.

  He picks me up and pushes me onto the wooden side table effortlessly, like a plaything. Silence is my friend as he shoves his cock inside my arse after briefly putting this thumb inside to barely ready me. As he thrusts into me, I cry out louder. The louder I cry, the more his jerks roughen.

  We come, and I’m exhausted and sore at the same time. As I feel his cum shoot up my spine, I cry, my tears streaking down my cheek.

  Was this why I stayed…to be hurt? So, he could physically and mentally hurt me?

  What is wrong with me?

  As I try to stand up, I struggle with the weight of my heels and the pain he has just inflicted on me. As his length turns soft, he releases it out of my arse and then lifts me up. He carries me to the bed like a hero rescuing me from a fight. He lays me on the bed ever so gently and takes off my heels. He wipes my tears, still present on my cheeks.

  He climbs on top of me slowly, and says, “I’m going to make love to you. This is what you need and want right now.”

  Open, your mouth. Tell him to get off you.

  I should deny him. I should have prevented him from torturing me like he did before. He sighs as he makes his way to the bathroom
to clean himself. I watch him like a frozen statue. Unable to move, waiting for him to take me as he did once before. My pussy wants more and it knows he’s willing to give it. As he makes his way back, he kisses my head, then my cheeks and finally my lips. It feels like I’m kissing a totally different person.

  This person doesn’t want to fuck me; he wants me to love him as he is going to do to me right now. My wetness is driving me mad as it starts to flow when his length strokes my pussy. I can’t believe it feels this way after what he did, and I feel betrayed.

  Every part of me is letting me down, my pussy for reacting every time he touches me, my impulse for not walking out the door and my conscience as I recall I haven’t officially broken up with Kevin. Letting my Grandma tell him can’t exactly be classed as breaking up.

  Roy rocks on top of me, all the time looking directly into my eyes with his gentle green gaze, and I run my hand through his hair. At that moment, he kisses me. He kisses me as if it’s the first time, and I want to explode.

  He is causing so many mixed emotions in my mind that I can’t think straight. I kiss him back with hunger as he gently enters my pussy, and my legs wrap round him so we can be as one. He thrusts gently inside me, using his hands to caress my sides, my face and at times, to drive my head closer to his as we kiss.

  It is one of the most romantic times we have experienced together, but then my aching pussy clenches with what feels like the last orgasm I’ll ever have in my lifetime. After we finish rocking and he shoots his cum in me once again, I ask, “What happened to contraceptive?”

  He looks at me shocked and says with a smile, “You’re on the pill.”

  He rolls off me, and I think, Silly me, of course he knows everything about me, and I know nothing about him. “I don’t even know how old you are.”

  “34.”

  I slump on the bed, trying to comprehend the events that keep happening between us. Did he want me just because he was horny? He has plenty of girls he could have. How do I know he doesn’t have them and I’m now an addition? This makes no sense. Simon is way older than me, and that meant Mrs Sparks had to be much older than him.

  “What? So, how old was Mrs Sparks?”

  “Steffie was 42 when she passed.”

  “Oh,” I reply as I roll onto my belly. So he was with someone around eight years older, and now he is with someone who is thirteen years his junior. I’m too young for him…or maybe he is too old for me.

  What am I talking about? I’m acting as if we have a future together, when it is clear we don’t. The letter said he wanted me to do something for him. That is all this has to do with, and then I’m free. Problem is I could be free financially, but I would never be free body, mind or soul. They all yearn for Roy.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I lay beside him with my arms wrapped around him for safety and comfort. He continues to stroke me as I hold onto him for dear life. I don’t understand it at first, but then I don’t care. I look at the clock above the bed and realise it’s after two in the afternoon.

  Since dinner, I have been in his arms, in one position after another. I want to go, even if it’s just to eat something, but then some part of me doesn’t in case it ends. Sure, he has drinks in his fridge in his room…if you can call it a room. It’s more of a mini apartment. It has a study area, the bedroom, and living room with a mini kitchen. Nothing to really cook in there, more a fridge and a microwave.

  “I need to eat,” I whisper in his ear as if I’m dying of starvation.

  He kisses me on the forehead and then he says, “Eat lunch, then you can go.”

  “Shit…Grandma.”

  He laughs and replies, “Sure, Grandma, but you will be back.”

  “Course,” I say as I think about the one place I need to go right now, which is my room. This time, I can’t be bothered to pretend. If Betty or any of the other staff sees me, then I would just ignore them and carry on up to my room.

  “I will tell Henry to get the car ready,” he says as he gives my arse a gentle pat. I give him a long, meaningful kiss before I put on the robe hanging on the back of his bathroom door and run out the door.

  Some things don’t change. As I went to the bathroom during the night, or perhaps it was this morning, I saw the robe and thought about how everything in the room feels the same, and it looks the same, apart from I’m not expecting Mrs Sparks to come in the middle of the night and catch us. I’m expecting Betty.

  As I suspected, I bump into nearly every staff on my way to the room. Two maids, the gardener, the floor cleaner and Betty see me, but I ignore them all as I head in one direction. That one direction is Grandma. I nearly have a shock as I open my room door.

  I say nothing. I debate if I should turn back and say something to her. Then I think about what to say. ‘Oh, Betty. Thanks for being so considerate. You know how it is; Roy and I have been fucking, making love and I’m hungry…’ I shake my head as I close my door and indulge in what feels like the first meal in a lifetime.

  It is a chicken salad sandwich and juice, yet it feels like a buffet of satay chicken with snow peas or chicken stroganoff. It in no way feels like just a chicken sandwich. Not the way the chicken tingled against my lips or the way it glides smoothly down my throat. I’m in seventh heaven and I didn’t even realise food could do that to you, up until now.

  I run to the shower as excitement hits me at the idea of seeing Grandma again. I hesitate for a brief second as I think about his words, ‘You can go.’ I mean, doesn’t that mean I can leave and never come back?

  I put on my jeans, brush my wet hair and race out of my room. Then, I go back to the room, because I forgot my glasses. I grab them and leave once again, and as I do, Betty is standing at the top of the stairs. “Remember what I said when you first came?”

  I nod as I recall her words carefully. ‘What have you ever done for anyone else?’ The answer is ‘nothing’, but I have a feeling that sooner rather than later it would be something different.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I arrive excited, and for some reason, I hope Grandma will be too. She is happy to see me, but confused by my anxiety, claiming I’m hugging her like I will never see her again. The only thing on my mind was hoping it would be my mum, grandma and at best my cousin, not the whole of Tulse Hill squeezed into this tiny flat.

  “Grandma, why are there so many people here?” I shout as I try to squeeze through the crowd. Sure, I know it’s my cousin’s birthday, but I also know she hasn’t got this many friends.

  She laughs as she hugs me, and asks, “My baby granddaughter, the graduate, has come and you don’t expect me to have a little party?”

  “Little…the flat is little. There are too many people in this flat.”

  “When did you get old?”

  I nudge her and wink. “When I became a graduate!”

  “Oh fancy,” Rachel says, and Mum laughs too. Yep, little Debbie Withers is back. I’m at home, and even though I know it isn’t forever, it feels good being here and seeing everyone I haven’t seen properly in years. Grandma really went all out and I love it!

  My mum gives me the biggest hug in the world as she makes her way to me. “I’m so glad to see you!” she shouts. “I’ve got so much to say. I’m thinking when you’re teacher training, maybe we could get a place together, if that’s okay with you. Then again, with things changing, I’m not sure that’s even an option.”

  I want to ask her what she meant by that last statement, but she seems excited to see me, which is refreshing and positive. I can’t believe it when I learn she’s got a boyfriend too. They have been seeing each other for six months. He works at the bank as a mortgage advisor. He has been doing it for years. He watched Mum every week when she came into the bank, but always noticed she had her wedding ring on. Until the day he noticed it wasn’t on. Then he had the courage to ask her out, and she said yes. She said it was the wake-up call she needed a long time ago.

  Grandma is over the moon Mum has started da
ting. Mum says she has twenty-one years of catching up to do, and if I allow her, she would love to do it. I agree; I think it is what I need and where I should be right now. As soon as I go back to Chelsea, I will have it out with Roy and find out exactly what he wants, and then I can take it from there, figuring out my plans with Mum before I start teacher training college in September.

  ***

  “Why did you do—?”

  “Do what, Grandma?”

  “You know…with Kevin.”

  I sigh. I mean, what can I say? I hold her hand and ask, “What did I do?”

  “Nothing.”

  Confusion settles in again. If I did nothing, then how did I break his heart? I need to tell him it is over, especially after the night I had with Roy. I welcomed it, and as long as we aren’t hurting anyone, I’m not about to give it up.

  Who am I kidding?

  As soon as I ask myself that question, my thoughts are disrupted. Grandma invited most of our family and the nearby residents into her pokey little two bedroom council flat. We are all crushed into the living room between the tatty velvet sofa and photos of the Royal family on the walls, which date right back to Charles and Diana. Grandma said she should replace it with Camilla, but no one comes close to Princess Diana.

  Being surrounded by modern furniture, antiques and expensive goods made me realize as much as I want to belong to Roy, right now, this is me; this is who I really am.

  “Hi,” Kevin says as he comes up behind me. He touches my shoulder and I want to cry, beg for forgiveness, but I can’t, because if I did tell him the truth, he would know I cheated on him, or at least had been with someone else.

  “Hi,” I reply weakly.

  “Good, you found her,” Mum shouts as she comes up to me and gives me another big hug. “I’m just so happy to finally meet your man.”

  I turn to look at Grandma. She must have been the one to tell him about today. It could only have been her. Is this a set-up to try and get us back together?