He wriggled and did his best to extract her hands from intimate places.It wasn’t that he was a prude.Absolutely the opposite.However, it had been some time since he’d been with a woman, and his memories of what that had been like were somewhat tarnished.
Slow down, he tried to tell her, but she kept his lips busy, and any conversation he attempted was met with monosyllabic replies, or groans to the effect of him being so, so sexy.
Getting him naked as fast as possible seemed to be her only goal.In fact, she seemed nonplussed by the fact that he wasn’t set on stripping her in the same way.
Spook wasn’t in a hurry.And while he usually liked pushy and fierce, he wasn’t yet ready to have her explore every inch.Not yet.Perhaps not at all.There was a strange look in her eyes when he dragged her hands off him and held her wrists.
She struggled.
He kept her trapped while he tried to figure out what it was she wanted from him and he from her.That’s when she noticed the scars.
There was no disguising the cuts for what they were.He’d worn a long-sleeved top on stage.And anyway, concealing them wouldn’t make them go away.It wouldn’t change what had brought him to the point of drawing a knife along his flesh.Of cutting deeply enough that he’d anticipated never waking up.
He got it.People didn’t know how to react, or what to say.Mostly, they apologised, as if it were their fault.
Or they asked questions.
Personal questions he wasn’t interested in answering.
Curiously, she took a different route.She blinked and made like they weren’t there at all.Like they were no more worthy of attention than a shaving scratch.Actually, she made a bigger fuss of the one he had on his chin.Licking it.Kissing it.
In so doing, she erected a wall between them.
He understood.This was only for tonight.They wouldn’t see one another afterwards.
It was about getting off.
She didn’t need to know him to shag him.
And she could use him without giving a fuck about who he was.
Interesting thing was; he didn’t much like the idea of being used and cast off.
In fact, he wasn’t sure he wanted to do this without an emotional connection.
Yeah, because that had made certain it all turned out so well in the past.
There’s nothing wrong with just getting off and then forgetting about it.
The rest of his band mates did it all the time.He’d done it himself a time or two, but those times had been different.
“You’re so jumpy,” she observed, having managed to wriggle herself free of his grip again.“Am I your first?”She giggled as if delighted by that possibility, and began inching down his fly.
Spook made a move to stay her exploration, but somehow they wound up on the bed instead.Her on top, straddling his hips.
She stroked the outline of his cock.Handled him with an air of detached determination, like she was out to prove something.
Her proficiency, he suspected.
He got hard, but, Christ, that was hardly an achievement.He was human, male, and under twenty.And she was stroking his cock.
“You’ve the wrong man if you think I’m any sort of innocent.”
Her smile stretched wide.“Oh, but you are.Look at you.You’re like a vision of wholesomeness wrapped up in a bad boy outfit.The clothes aren’t you.The dark broody lyrics of your band, neither.Even the leather jacket.”
Except they very much were.He waited for her to similarly dismiss his scars, but those she was studiously avoiding noticing.Her gaze slipped away from them, like she was saying he’d only been playing about when he’d made them.That he’d done it to prove his edgy credentials, not because the world and his life had sucked, and he had no idea who or how to trust anymore.That he hadn’t been serious.
“I didn’t want to wake up,”he’d told the nurse in A&E.As it was, he hadn’t even passed out.
