West-End Boys (Naïve Mistakes) (8 page)

As it had been in Switzerland, he was all man, commanding, knowing what he wanted and ready to satisfy me. To satisfy himself.

I grabbed my panties, fought them off and heard the first glass fall behind me. Cool wine trickled against my naked butt and Conall undid his buckle, burning into me with his gaze.

My mouth opened, amazed at out how this man floated me up into the clouds every time he looked at me, touched me, felt me...

His pants dropped. I grabbed his boxers and tugged them down, felt the surge of liquid escape me as his cock gleamed in the dim candlelight, pre-come glistening and shining off the head of it. I tried to bend down and mouth him but he held me up, eased my hands onto the table behind me where they landed on wet cloth. He pushed me back so that dishes clanged and another glass fell and broke on the floor, each sound firing up sharp desire inside me.

He pushed my left leg open with two fingers. A plate fell, smashed. His cock throbbed against his shirt. I clasped at the buttons, ripped his shirt open, saw his muscled torso shine and crunch in front of me. Saw the tattoo of my name on him:
LEORA
.

His breathing was fast, wanting, yearning.

He tugged me toward him by my ass. I remembered our first time, at the Marriott, how he'd had me then on a table as well but penetrated me only with his fingers and then pumped me with them as I'd lain back and watched the chandeliers rock.

My crotch dangled off the edge of the table now. My toes scraped the ground. My sex screamed for him, pulsed and throbbed at seeing him so close but not having him in me yet. Cool air washed against it, sent shivers up my spine and tensed my butt and inner thighs.

His finger slid inside me like a toboggan on melting snow. "I'm ready," I pleaded. And I was. I was
so
ready.

He grabbed his shaft, pulled it down and aimed it at me, touched my engorged lips with it and my left leg spasmed once inwards with scalding desire.

"This is not the most romantic place to do it," he said.

"It's fucking romantic. Now make love to me. Fuck me goddamnit." I wanted him, ached and pulsed for him as the head of his cock caressed and massaged—
teased
—me down below.

Conall was looking at it, at how it was almost entering me but not quite. Just its tip massaging me. Then he locked his gaze on my eyes so that I felt the burn of his own eyes to my inner core, so much that I all but forgot about his hard-on and about our touching flesh.

Until, still looking at me, still hypnotizing with his mesmerizing gaze...he slid into me.

I contracted immediately, gave out a quick grunt as my body began to tremble. I felt my breasts shake, and Conall exited me, slowly, groaning. Then again, in. He pulsed inside me. "Oh, yes," I said, feeling that he was close to coming already.
Already
! And it made me even hotter for him.

I clenched again, tightening and contracting—not yet coming but
so
close!—and he eased once more deep into me.

He growled, low and manly. I could feel him holding back, could feel myself squeezing him so tight from my maddening arousal that I was going to sabotage any efforts of his to try and control himself. I knew I couldn't control myself. He'd put me on the edge, it was only his lack of rhythm that held me there, at the top of the seesaw, almost ready to fall but not quite.

Sweat drenched my skin as my body heated up, my lungs expanded. My legs widened... And he exited me again, leaving only the tip inside me.

"Oh, God!" he roared, throaty, guttural.

"Just come in me, baby. Come inside me and I'll go over the edge."

"Damn it, Leo, I don't want to. I want it to last." Seeing him tense, holding himself back made me clutch his waist, dig my nails into him.

"I'm gonna come as well soon, baby," I said, looking down at us combined, the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen, and a sight I'd never get tired of looking at. "Make love to me, Conall. Fuck me."

Conall moved in again, then out, then in, almost all the way out. Oh, God, the rhythm was there. He'd gotten himself under some sort of control and he moved his pelvis in and out of me at a pace that made my legs tingle and my back tense—

I started to rock, felt it increasing and clenching in me— "Oh, fuck," I cried, moisture licking my hair, wetting my breasts.

Conall sped up, started to groan. "Oh, yeah," he said.

"Oh, yeah," I echoed. Then we both said it, one after the other, "Oh, yeah, oh, oh, baby,
yeah
."

I ground my hips, felt the tensile heat scorch me while dishes clanged and more things fell with a crash and I said, "Faster, faster, baby, faster."

He sped up,
slammed
into me! Rocked in a blur and I waited and felt myself almost coming, feeling the rush before the rush and tensing but not quite there.
Almost.

We groaned, the windows shook with our mutual cries of love and passion. Conall grabbed my hair behind me, ferocity in his eyes as he set his gaze on me and then—

For a moment, as it had been in Switzerland, there was nothing: A mutual breath, a combined thrust or pull. The exact action and reaction resulting in no motion.

And then, oh God, fucking oh God.

Boom.

He came first.

I saw it initially in his eyes before he pulsed inside me and sent me over the edge. But before that, his eyes had squeezed, his chin had moved slightly down, his teeth had clenched. I'd felt a tremble on his right hand at my waist and a sudden jerk down my thigh with his left.

And then, he
impaled
me.

I gasped, felt the instinct take over him as pleasure drenched his mind and took over his control and he pummeled and slammed into me and he pulsed and rubbed and rubbed and rubbed some more.

I yowled with pleasure.

I pulled him toward me and wrapped my arms around his massive back and held him tight against me as he slammed me so high that my ass lifted off the table.

My legs spasmed, my eyes rolled back, I shook and trembled, his warm seed filling me.

My feet lifted from the ground several times in his final thrusts. He was done before me. My forehead trembled on his chest quietly as my body went back to normal. The butterflies flew out of my stomach, and blood coursed back in and around my legs, my back, my breasts. To my toes.

I sighed out heavily, loving how he felt inside me. Loving how every day he and I became more one, more united. A couple. A single unit. The heart of the other, the lungs, the same body.

He became everything to me.

I could no longer imagine life without him.

"I love you," I said, feeling the words more than ever. Feeling like my life was defined now by this man, our relationship.

"I love you, baby," he said. He pressed his left temple to mine, cupped the back of my head with his hand, held me to him. Held me so tight that my breath was briefly stifled. "I love you so much."

I heard his voice quiver. I don't know how long we stayed like that. It could've been forever for all I cared. Life was perfect.

This was perfect.

Again. Another lie.

-1-

Before Conall dropped me off at Victoria Station the next morning, I saw a mail from Alex.

From: Alex

To: Leora Caivano

Subject: Coming Home

Hey Leo,

Things not going so great this side. No regrets. But I'm coming home tomorrow. Wanna hang out?

A

"Alex mailed me," I said to Conall in the car.

"And?"

"And she's coming home..."

"Hmmmm." He frowned.

"You thinking of letting her stay at your place?"

"No, actually I was thinking how it's a pity things didn't work out."

"Well, where's she gonna stay?"

"Surely she has that figured out."

"You should invite her over to stay at your place. I mean, seeing as we won't be there."

"No, she has resources. I think it's best if she taps into them."

"It just seems callous."

"Leo, if she needs anything, she can always ask. She knows that."

"She should do those self-defense classes. I mean, she needs them."

"Call Trey," Conall said.

"Me?"

"Sure. Tell him Alex will be here— When did you say she was coming?"

I checked the mail again. She'd sent it late last night. "Today."

"Call him and ask him if he'll pick her up from the airport."

"Conall, what does Trey do? I mean, for real?"

"Leo, as I said, he doesn't tell me. Intel or something."

I shook my head. The man was truly an enigma. An enigma I was most grateful for.

I called him and he was more than happy to help. I mailed Alex and told her he'd pick her up. Her answer was instantaneous, thanking me and Conall and giving me the flight details.

Then anxiety kicked me in the stomach. And I suddenly didn't want to be in Seaford for any time at all. I wanted to be with my friend. And I wanted to be with Conall.

But that's exactly why I needed to go. A small thing that I was doing by myself. Baby steps. This was a big
ger-than-usual one.

-2-

"Um, hello, I'm havin a freakin meltdown of pain over here!" Kayla was sitting on a massive flowerpot inside Victoria Station wearing shades so shiny I was amazed she could even see.

But she could.

And she was looking at me and Conall kissing and groping and not letting go of each other.

"I'm gonna miss you so much," I told him.

He didn't answer, just kissed me more and rubbed my back and ass.

"Hey! Like, today! Damn, it fucking hurts to shout at you guys."

"See you in two weeks," Conall said as I pulled away.

"Two weeks."

When his hand let go of mine I felt suddenly untethered, like something was bound to go wrong... Like we shouldn't be doing this.

But that was exactly why I
needed
to do this. It was the final step of my 'recovery'—to prove that I could fend for myself. That I didn't have to be around him all the time to feel safe.

I ran once more to him, heard Kayla groan, flung my arms around his neck. "Have a safe flight," I said.

"Leo, you OK? You look a little pale?"

"I'm fine."

Conall smiled, and headed off to his train for the airport. Our train was leaving in thirty minutes.

"Damn, finally," said Kayla, not moving from her huge flowerpot.

"How's your head?"

"How the fuck do you think it is? Why didn't you stop me yesterday?"

"I tried."

"Not hard enough."

"Actually, I remember prying a drink from your fingers and you going ballistic."

"Oh, yeah, shit. OK, I forgive you. So, you ready?"

"Of course," I said.

"Even to see that fuckturd of an ex-boyfriend?"

"Ex-boyfriend?"

"Dorian Brant."

My stomach turned once. "I'm sure he's not there anymore. The job he had was temporary."

"But maybe he is."

"Anyway, whatever. And he was never my boyfriend."

"True."

"Are you just going to sit on that flowerpot all morning until the train comes?"

"Yes."

"You look like something out of
Top Gun
."

"Girl, don't talk about movies made before you were born. Besides, the shades they used in that flick were black. My silver ones are way cooler."

"They're also made for the snow."

"Damn, you're in a fuckin mood today, aren't you?"

I chuckled, moved my lips over to her forehead and gave her a gentle peck. "Nice to see you, babe."

"Yeah, I'm freaking glad we're finally gonna get some alone time. Damn, I missed the taste of your lips against mine."

"Wet fish, Kay. Wet fish, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, that's right, never mind..."

I sat next to her, put my hands on my lap and looked at a bunch of frenzied people of different hues and sexes and styles walking around London's version of Grand Central. "Do train stations look the same world-over?" I said.

"That's your lame attempt at making conversation with a hungover chick that's about to pass out? Come, coffee, please."

We went out to the Starbucks across the road and grabbed two seriously decadent Frappuccinos with extra cream and extra espresso and extra caramel syrup...

"I'm so glad you're not into that bodybuilding weight-loss crap anymore," Kayla said, looking up at me from behind her snow-shades. "I mean, it's nice to enjoy a real cup of coffee with you these days."

I shrugged, slapped my abs. "Hard as rock still."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that." Kayla, who was not hard as rock, still hadn't put on an ounce of weight in the last eight months. I pondered how the hell she did it, then gave up, realizing it was a gene-pool battle I would always be on the losing side of.

We crossed the road with a bunch of tourists, then went to the train. We sat on a seat with a table between us. Kayla laid her head back.

"Alex is coming back tomorrow," I said. "Things don't seem to have worked out for her."

She lifted her head, took her shades off. "Bummer."

I nodded. Kayla looked out the window at a ticket dude in blue uniform. "I'm sure she'll survive. We all do." She looked back at me. "Wanna go tomorrow instead?"

I shook my head. "Trey's picking her up from the airport. Conall worked it out that she can get some of those self-defense lessons from him."

"What's the deal with that dude? A guy as hot and built as he is shouldn't be single. Is he like gay or something?"

"He doesn't look it."

"
He doesn't
look
it? That's so...damn, what's the word if you're racist against homosexuals?"

"You can't be 'racist' against homosexuals!"

"Whatever, Leo, you know what I mean."

"No, I don't."

"Whatever. Anyway, the question was rhetorical. I don't think he's gay either. Damn, my head hurts so bad. And it's fucking cold in here!"

I pulled out a blanket from my hand luggage.

"You brought a blanket?" said Kayla, completely unimpressed.

"I get cold!"

"Well, thanks." Kayla put the blanket on herself. "What were we saying?"

"Trey. Gay."

"Hah, you're a poet. No, I don't think he's gay. But I've never seen him with a woman. And what does he do for a living?"

I shrugged. "The man is a mystery."

Kayla lifted her eyebrows. "Fine, whatever."

The train tugged once and Kayla grimaced. "Great, we're moving," she said. "Would've been nice if they'd given us hungover people a little warning."

I chuckled.

"So, how's it feel to finally get laid so often?"

Oh, great. I'd almost forgotten how embarrassed Kayla could make me feel sometimes! I felt my cheeks go warm, but I didn't avoid the question this time. "Um, it feels
fucking
good."

She laughed. "Holy cow, he must be a really good lay."

I shook my head, decided not to comment. "Um, so you and Brad are getting pretty serious, huh?"

"You don't know the half of it."

"Hmmm? How so?"

Kayla shaded her eyes as the train pulled out into the open. "God, only in England would it be overcast in June!" She looked out at the city. "Leo, remember when you asked me how things were with Brad when I first arrived?"

I felt a fist in my throat. "Um, yeah... Is everything OK—?"

She put her hand up. "Of course it is. Doesn't it look OK?"

"It looks great."

"Exactly. It is great. Who'd have thought? Anyway, in February the dude asked me to marry him, Leo."

My eyes went as wide as saucers. All time stopped.

"Leora, your mouth is open."

"Oh, my God, that's frickin amazing! Wow, Kay—"

"Jesus, would you stop shouting! God!" She put her hands to her ears.

I was giddy, wanting to jump up and down in my seat. Brad from Bushwick. Damn, he was so good for her.

"And?" I said, rolling my hand to encourage more details.

She looked at me with her peaceful green eyes, no clear-cut emotion in them. "And I panicked, Leora. Why do you think I was outta there and up to the UK so quickly?"

"I thought it had been my magnetic personality."

"Of course it was. A close-second, however, was that I'd panicked. So I told him I needed some time away. Anyway... Look, Leo, when I tell you this next thing,
please don't scream!
OK?"

"OK."

"I told him yes, yesterday. I told him I'd marry him."

"OH, MY GOD!"

"Damn it, Leora! You said you wouldn't scream! Just hit me with a baseball bat, wouldya?"

"Sorry!" I whispered. I ran around the table to her and hugged her, tugging her head maybe a little too hard.

"You are the worst fucking friend, you know that? Remind me to stay far away from you the next time I have a hangover. Now go on over to your side of the table. I can't even turn my neck."

Floating, I returned to my seat.

"We both got trashed yesterday because we were celebrating. Or do you think I get drunk randomly for no apparent reason." She looked at me seriously for a while like she expected an answer. It was a trick question, so I kept my mouth shut. "So, anyway, I'm not gonna bother to tell you you're gonna be my Maid Of Honor and all that shit because you know you are." She waved her hand in the air.

Wow. Marriage. A life together. I looked out the window, at the lush greenery, the ever-present brown-brick houses. The dreamy state of my mind made the ensuing seconds feel like minutes...

"They've become good friends, you know that?" said Kayla.

"Who?"

"Brad and Conall."

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

"Yeah, they've become all chummy. That's an English word by the way:
Chummy
. Means great friends, close."

"You're settling right in here, aren't you?"

She winked at me.

I wondered why Conall hadn't told me he and Brad had gotten close. Maybe it was one of those guy things where they never acknowledge that they actually feel friendship and care for someone else who's male.

"Brad talks about him all the time."

He does?
"What does he...say about him?"

"That he's intense. That he'd die protecting you, or
anyone
he loves for that matter. He's always going over procedure with Brad. What to do if men storm the house. What to do if Conall is not there. What to do if you're there, if you're not. They've drilled it as well, over and over, so he knows it by heart.

"You know he had him running these frickin PIs for a while, right? Damn, your man was obsessed with that shit. I'm glad he finally gave it up. I got a bit freaked out after they'd found that dude floating up that German river."

So he did give it up, as he'd promised. "When did Brad tell you he gave it up? And did he say why?"

"He almost didn't tell me. Brad hardly ever tells me shit about work, but I withhold certain 'services' from him and then the man talks. Yeah, there was some other heat on him and he told Brad it was no longer worth the risk."

"Heat?"

"Uh-huh. Seems he found something. Something big... And he said it was getting too dangerous. So he called it all off. Told Brad that was it, the end. But that he'd keep Brad on the same salary anyway. He's nice, you know?"

The train on the tracks was suddenly very loud. "Did Brad tell you what Conall found?"