I could stay like this forever, her thick thighs wrapped around me and the big blue eyes gazing at me behind the thick frames of her glasses.
I nearly give in, nearly rip my jumper off her body and feast until we’re both groaning in relief, but I see the yawn she tries to hide behind her hand. “Did I wear you out?”
She laughs softly. “Leave me alone. I’m growing a human being.”
I wink at her as I pull myself off the sofa. “Do you want me to leave?”
Her eyes widen, “No! We have to finish Strictly.”
She falls asleep less than one dance in, a blanket thrown over her lap and her feet in mine. I quietly turn the TV off and pick her up, her head tilting towards my chest as I carry her to her bedroom.
She stirs awake enough to grumble in my arms, “I’m too heavy.”
I clutch her to me tighter. She’s as light as a feather compared to the weights I can push at the gym. “Never.”
I gently deposit her in the bed, her eyes firmly closed. There’s nothing I want more than to climb into bed with her, but instead I press a kiss to her forehead and gently pull her glasses off her head. I set them on the bedside table and tiptoe out of the room, gently closing the door behind me.
15
ROSIE
I am a weak,weak woman. I should never have done it, never even hinted to Jackson that I had any sort of urges.
By Sunday evening, I’ve mentally slapped myself from shame multiple times. Not only did I practically beg him to eat me out, but I immediately fell asleep afterwards. I woke up alone and disorientated in my bed, taking a few minutes to remember falling asleep on the sofa as he massaged my feet.Afterhe gave me a mind-blowing orgasm that turned my insides to molten lava.
I should never have gone there with him, blurring the lines that are already so faded.
What was I thinking? Offering my body to him like a cat in heat, over an amateur tango on Saturday night television.
No, I shouldn’t have done it. And I willnotdo it again,
There is no need to get Jackson to scratch an itch I’ve spent many years scratching myself perfectly well.
Which I tell myself every day for the next week.
I tell myself when I’m tossing and turning at night a few days later, the sheets damp with sweat and my nipplesscratching against my shirt. In frustration, I jerk upright and dive for the drawer beside my bed.
Pulling out my trusty pink vibrator, I close my eyes, lie back and take a deep breath. Nothing. The vibrations that work for me every time are somehow not soft enough, not hard enough, notenough.
I almost knock my lamp off the table as I shove the drawer closed in frustration.
The next day I try again and when the same thing happens I switch to manual mode, my fingers tracing where I’m aching. But they’re too soft, too small.
On Thursday, I have a fleeting notion to try the shower head but after I nearly slip on the wet shower floor, I give up that one before I break a leg.
On Friday, I reach a new low and allow myself the most shameful experiment. Curled up on the sofa under a blanket, I use my vibrator in the same place Jackson set me aflame. Remembering his hands on me, the way he teased me, his dirty words buzzing in my ears. My skin tingles as I chase the vibration with my hips but it’s still not enough. I take a deep breath of frustration and throw my vibrator to the other end of the sofa.
By Saturday, I’m a mess. My body is buzzing, unable to release any of the tension that’s held me in a chokehold for days.
By the time Jackson is due to arrive I’ve progressed to baking to distract myself and have accidentally made at least three different cakes.
I lay them out on the table on decorative plates and fan out napkins. I assess my array for a few seconds before my senses finally return to me.
Why did I let the man get me offand then laid out a display of home baked goods as if I’m hosting a weird ‘thanks for the orgasm’ party?
He buzzes the intercom and I snatch the Victoria sponge cake off the table, put it back in the cake tin and hide it under the sink. The blueberry and vanilla muffins I start haphazardly throwing in a ziplock bag and shoving them in the cutlery drawer.
I’ve lost my fucking mind.
