Beautiful Mess (5 page)

It came, and it made me shiver.

I moved with him; we were warring tides. Back and forth, back and forth. Choppy tempests. When the fingers came, they were two, and they stretched me just enough to make my cries echo. They sank right into the spot they found before and then my hands were in his hair, pushing.

“
There
,” I urged.

“Like that.” He swirled thick fingers inside. “Just like that. Let me do it for you.”

Let him do
it
. That thing. Let
me
do it.
Mmph. Yes yes yes yes.

“
Like that.
” The words vibrated round my clit and they felt so good, so good. “Do it for me, Bailey.” He had the flat, forceful stretch of his tongue against me, and there was suddenly this edge to every stroke that had me trying to buck away. “Like that. Good girl.” His palm shoved on my belly, holding me still to take it all.

And I was terrified, I wanted him to stop, to let me come down from this place where naughty girls fell from because if I--

Smack.

I was the expensive porn star. I was the sighing, yelping girl writhing beneath the boy she never knew had it in him. I was all these things, just because--

Smack, shudder, shudder, smack smack...

“I’m coming.” The words were breathy, far away. Blissful. “I’m coming, Linc, don’t stop.”

The mean boy just twisted into me harder. I was bouncing, riding, gushing. Beautiful. Messy and alive.

Eventually, there was a damp forehead on my collarbone and it occurred to me that it was over. I kept trying to measure how long it’d taken. He’d been down there a while. Did it matter?

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

I prodded his chin, kissed his bottom lip. Licked the stickiness of myself from his cupid’s bow. “I’m good.” The smile, coy and flushed, almost split the corners of my mouth. “I’m very…very…
ow
.”

His cock nudged at my come-swollen lips and he groaned as they sucked at him.

“Please.” I grazed his neck with my teeth. “
Please
.”

“Not like this.” He hauled himself up and pointed to a tall stool in the corner. “I want you bent over that.”

“Okay.”

My thighs were slick as I staggered over to it. The leather padding sank beneath my elbows, and I moaned as Linc’s palm fell on my buttock in a crisp, flat spank.

“In my head,” he murmured, “you’re always bent over this.”

How can somebody so familiar make me feel so wicked and dirty? He spread me with his fingers, admired the sight before I took him whole, and the contractions that had dulled in my pelvis sprang to life all over again as he took sharp thrusts. One…two…three…why was I counting?

Now he was the one who grew noisy. Sighs emerged through bitten lips in that low, lush voice of his. A liquid heat spread in my belly and my hips began to tremble in his hands.

“Linc?”

“Mmph?”

“I…”
Go on go on go on.
“Spank me.”

He stroked my ass for a moment. Primed the flesh. He smacked lightly. Light. A bit harder. At the same time, he pushed into me and the impact pulsed in my clit. I didn’t think it was possible to pant deeper than that moment just before I came for him, but I did. I did. It was the hot sting that accompanied each twist and stroke. It felt like my orgasm was awake again, echoing--like I’d never stopped in the first place.

When the moment came, I didn’t stop him coming inside me, like he’d said. I closed my eyes and let his cry wash over me until our pace withered to a tremble and he fell forward to stroke his palms down my back.

“Um.” He laughed nervously; this was his oh-look-it’s-you-you’re-naked-how-awkward phase. Then it morphed to a really dirty chuckle, an oh-fuck-we’re-naked-awesomeawesomeawesome!

I eased back to stand with him, and he lifted me to sit on the high stool. With a slow kiss, I wrapped my arms around his neck.

He still grinned between teases and licks. “Are you okay?”

“Am I?” His neck, my face…ah. Best combination in the world. “Oh God. Today, I’m exhausted, Linc.”

He tutted. “That’s why you needed a montage.”

It was my turn to laugh and it muffled against his skin. “Oh, it was amazing. Thank you. How…how did you know?”

“I didn’t.” He nibbled at my earlobe. “I did a lot of reminiscing and Googling, and then I prayed for the best.”

“Either way--amazing.”

“Good.” He tugged my hair up and made me look at him. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Bailey.”

“You too.” I beamed at him. “Even if you did take advantage.”

“What? I bought candles! And wine. And
How to Train Your Dragon
on DVD.”

“Really?” I scowled. “Why are we our wasting time with the sex?”

He glanced over the top of my head at the TV. “Okay, okay. I’ll put it on. But you have to promise to stay naked.”

I gazed up at my new Linc-shaped man-flesh, all flame-soaked and lovely in the shadows, and gave him an indulgent, tongue-laced kiss. “I can manage that.”

And I did.

Dragons and orgasms. The boy knew how to treat a girl.

Four Months Later

I’m not going to tell you that it was easy.

I mean, it’d been a week since I broke up with a guy who not only chewed my heart up and spat it out, but slowly re-ingested it so he could shit it on to crackers and feed it to parrots with attachment issues.

Fortunately, Linc was a very patient foil for my emotional baggage. As it turned out, he wasn’t without his own. It just hid in a very tidy flat.

This, I do know: discovering that one of your best friends has been in love with you for his adult life is enough to send the gnomes of self pity packing. They didn’t even have time to mount their owls.

Tom and Olly, bless them, put up with a lot in our fledgeling months. They fielded petty disagreements and resisted taking sides; they refrained from punching Craig when he appeared at the pub. If they listened to me and Linc having sex, they never mentioned it.

They did high-five him a lot, though. Either I really was a lot noisier or he’d told them more than he let on. I’d bet on the former.
Ahem
.

Olly and Linc’s metro werewolves were a commercial success. They signed a deal with a TV channel, and Linc handed his notice in at IT Monkey HQ.

As for me? I’d packed boxes that weren’t full of Stupid Craig, and Tom and Olly were going to help me move them into Linc’s flat.

Our
flat.

***

When we locked up the cake shop at six, Linc waited outside with his sleeves rolled up and his hands stuffed into his pockets. He might have gained a bit of confidence in his new-found TV popularity, but he still looked awkward loitering in doorways. Or awkward in public, generally.

Especially when he was being followed.

“Good evening, Mr. Forester.” I was about to stand on tip-toe to kiss him hello, but then I caught sight of his fan club on the street corner and thought better of it. “All set for the move?”

“Tom and Olly will be there in a bit, complete with swag. We might need a bit of a diversion, though.”

“Have you been accosted?”

“Not yet. Think I should just go over and be done with it?”

“Might as well. Bit of networking and all that. You can tell them about the film.” I squeezed his arm. “Mila said I could come with you. How awesome is that?”

“Ah, Bails. That’s brilliant!” He mashed a kiss against my dark curls, and dragged me to the crossing. “Okay then. Let’s go and meet the scary madams.”

I don’t know if I was imagining it, or if the six or so young girls were actually standing in the shape of a Venus flytrap; either way, as Linc strode towards them, it felt like that scene in
Jurassic Park
where they tossed a goat in with the velociraptors. This was the boy who took five years of being my friend to grow balls big enough to kiss me. He didn’t
do
walking up to a bunch of strangers, even if they were wearing little badges that said
Linc Twice
. I was proud of him, and beneath that, ever so slightly threatened. I was such a silly cow.

But then the hot guy walking over to meet his fans was
my boyfriend
. And I knew him better than anyone. Maybe not so silly, huh?

“Oh my God!” shrieked one of the girls, flapping her hands like a fish. “Did you get our emails?”

“We
love
your new parody. The one with the werewolves in tutus. You’re totally bringing hairy back,” gushed another with Heidi-style plaits.

“Well. Olly’s the hairy one.” Linc blushed as per usual, but he grinned as he spoke.

“Where’s Olly? Is he here?”

“He’s…well, he’s kind of busy with our new project,” said Linc. “We just got the go-ahead to make a film.”

“Seriously?” Heidi bounced in her neon-laced trainers. “Like, a Hollywood film? Oh my God, do you need extras?”

“We’d be really good. We wouldn’t bug anybody,” said another.

Linc shook his head. He was now a very fetching shade of beetroot. “Not quite Hollywood, but we’re really excited about it. We start filming in just a few weeks.”

The first girl tapped furiously on her phone. “I’m putting this on our blog, like, right now!” She made wide eyes at Linc. “Could we get some photos?”

“Um, yeah. Of course.” Linc shot me an embarrassed wince as the girls squashed against him. I gestured with a bobbing finger and he slowly draped his arms about their shoulders.

Smile
, I mouthed.

Sod off!
He stared very hard at the pavement.

“Okay,” said the girl with the camera phone, “everybody say slimy man-fat!”

I put my head in my hands. The in-joke was somehow extra cringe-worthy when it was being shouted by schoolgirls, and I suspected they were never Olly and Linc’s target audience.

“Slimy man-fat!” squealed the chorus.

Linc still couldn’t smile, and his left eyebrow cocked in a comically abrupt angle as the flash went off.

“I suppose I’d better get going,” he said, stepping away.

“Would you sign my arm before you go?” said camera girl.

“And my magazine.”

“And my boobs.”

“Oh my
God
, Lizzie. You can’t ask him that!” Heidi shot her a predatory glare.

“It’s no worse than what’s in your diary, you slag--”

“I probably shouldn’t sign anyone’s boobs,” Linc said quickly. “But if somebody’s got a pen, I can do the other things.”

Olly would’ve done it. I made a mental note to keep him away from under-agers.

Three of the girls produced pens from their bags, and they all thrust them in Linc’s direction at the same time. He shrugged at me helplessly before using each of the pens for a different girl.

I was suddenly very aware that I was being watched.

“So is that your girlfriend?” said Lizzie, peering at me from beneath a lot of poker-straight hair.

“Um. Yep, it is,” he said, cautious.

I gave them a feeble wave from my perch on the wall.

“She’s, like, totally pretty,” said Heidi, breathless. “Do you love her?”

He looked up from Heidi’s arm--which now bore his own loopy brand of calligraphy--to give me a lop-sided grin. “Yeah. She’s pretty cool.”

“What’s her name?”

Oh crap.
Please don’t, Linc. I don’t want death threats in my email inbox. We all know how this one goes. In the age of social media, I’m pretty sure bunny boilers will have progressed to pet rats, too.

Before he could respond, Lizzie rushed over and pulled me by the sleeve. “You
have
to get a Twitter account,” she said. “We can, like, live through you precariously.”

“You mean vicariously, you moo.” Camera girl rolled her eyes.

“Living with Linc is rather precarious,” I found myself saying.

“How did you get together? Was it completely romantic?”

Linc slumped against a lamppost and rubbed his temple. I think he still envisioned that he’d be swiftly told to fuck off, rather than the pair of us being interrogated.

I raised my eyebrows at him. “It
was
quite romantic, actually.” It did involve candles. And spanking. Possibly not a story for those who shouldn’t be watching TV after the watershed.

“We really do have to go,” he said weakly. “It was nice to meet you all, though.”

We were faced with six pairs of very glossy, pouting lips. Sorry girls. No pony this Christmas.

“Have a good weekend,” I said, taking Linc’s arm.

“We will,” said Heidi, as if she’d just been informed of double maths.

“And we’re so excited about your film!” squeaked camera girl. “Oh my God!”

“Oh my God, indeed,” I muttered, pressing into him as we walked away.

“And hey, Linc’s girlfriend!” Lizzie called. “Don’t forget about Twitter! You can put pictures on it, you know. You could take lots of pictures.”

“So what did you sign instead of her boobs?” I giggled.

“She’s now the proud owner of an iPhone that says
Lunc
. My hand was trembling.”

“You stud, you.”

“Don’t you dare do that Twitter thing.”

We turned the corner by the little Italian place we liked to lunch at, and stepped back to let two student-types with skateboards pass.

“Hey,” said the one in the black hoodie. “It’s the vampire ballet dude.”

The other held a hand up and Linc gave him a cautious high-five. “You’re classic, man. Classic.”

“Thanks,” Linc muttered.

We’d barely reached the Starbucks at the end of the road when an almighty bellowing struck up behind us.

“Oh crap,” he groaned. “They’re doing the slutty werewolf rap.”

“This is embarrassing. How quickly can we run to the car?”

“Let’s find out, shall we?”

I’d never been scowled at by old ladies as two lads croon “ooh, ooh, were-boys are easy!” at my terrified boyfriend. Still, if I’d had a “things I never want to do on a Saturday,” list, I could have totally crossed that off.

***

“I can’t believe we’re going to see this place.” Olly bounced while I fiddled with the keys, his arms full of herbs in plant pots.

“Feels wrong,” sniffed Tom.

“We have to make sure that it’s habitable for Bailey. Check for sharp corners, glass ornaments, that kind of thing.”

“You’re like two gay dads, giving me away,” I grumbled.

“It’s a good job we don’t actually have homo friends,” Tom mused. “They’d need to be very tolerant.”

I got the flat door open, finally, and we spilled into the hall. The boys dumped their boxes and gazed about in wonder.

Olly scratched his chin thoughtfully. “It’s…it’s…”

“Normal.” Tom’s upper lip twitched with disgust.

I poked him in the ribs. “What were you expecting?”

“I dunno. Bats, a coffin? Women’s shoes in trannie sizes?”

“I was expecting all sorts of weird super villain shit, like a fish tank floor full of sharks and giant squid.” Olly’s shoe squeaked on the polished floorboards. “I can’t believe he’s this…tidy.”

“I couldn’t, either.” I grinned.

“Stop bitching and give me a hand.” Linc appeared in the doorway, cradling the box that I knew to be full of rats. Recently, we’d bought a cute little gray one to join Tarquin and Safety Dance. His name was Desmond.

I eased the box from Linc’s arms and stood on tip-toe to give him a kiss.

“Is the cage down in the car?”

“Yep.” His fingers played on my waist. “I’ll have it up in five.”

“I still can’t look.” Olly slapped a hand over his eyes. “It’s like watching my sister and brother.”

I rolled my eyes as I strode past him. “You‘ve had four months to get used to it, you knobhead.”

“That’s nothing! And don’t think I can’t see what you’re doing here, Missy.” He wagged a finger at me. “Stealing my wing man away. He’ll still be over for work, and--”

“I’m a wing man!” Tom protested.

“But you’re shit with a keyboard,” sighed Olly, patting his friend on the back. “You’re meant to be dosing up pensioners anyway, Doctor Tom.”

It took an hour or so to bring up all my boxes, and I busied myself sorting the rats while the boys stacked them in the hall. I set up the cage in the spare room and made sure they had lots of fancy schmancy cereal.

Then it was time to say goodbye to Olly and Tom.

“It’s going to be too weird,” said Tom.

Olly pouted at me. “I’ll be in your empty bedroom at two in the morning, pounding the walls with my bare fists. You think of that while you’re doing dirty things and making sad little photo collages.”

“You look after her, Linc. No whipping back the floorboards to reveal any fish tanks, you hear?”

Linc gave Tom a rather forceful high-five. “I’ll do my best, mate.”

I suffered choking hugs from the sweaty boys and waved as they started down the hall. The door hadn’t closed when they began singing at the tops of their voices.

“They are very slutty werewolves with their furry, faggy...rats?”