Beautifully Unexpected by Lily Morton

Chapter Eleven

Laurie

We’re kissing sohard that we fall against his front door.

“Ouch,” I say as the handle digs into my back. “The knob’s gouging me.”

He takes one look at me before bursting into laughter and saying lasciviously, “Not yet, but soon, Laurie.”

I roll my eyes. “Braggers rarely have a reason to do so.”

He grabs my hand, and I swallow hard as he holds it to his groin. His cock is hard, straining at his shorts and intimidatingly wide. I’ll know he’s been inside me for sure. The idea doesn’t put me off. Instead, my whole body heats. I haven’t had a good dicking for ages.

He presses against me, bracing his arms on the door, bracketing me in. His hips thrust, pushing his cock into my hand. I grip him, shuttling up and down, making him close his eyes and mutter something in Danish under his breath.

I release his cock and fumble at the button of his shorts, and he grabs my fingers, staying me. “Not in the corridor,” he mutters. “Let’s get inside.”

“You have excellent ideas,” I say breathlessly.

He smiles. “Better than bingo.”

“You lie,” I say indignantly, trying not to laugh. “Ah well. Now that your ideas are going to be accompanied by your dick, I shall pay attention going forwards.”

His laughter sounds almost surprised, and I wonder if having fun during sex is unusual for him. Rolling around in the sheets and laughing together had always been one of my favourite things back in the days when I’d tried relationships.

The door swings open and startles me. Mags’s steadying hand keeps me from face-planting. “Smooth, Laurie,” he says with a snort.

“Oh, I’ve got game,” I say darkly, pulling my T-shirt up and off and nearly taking my eyebrows with it. “You watch. I’ve got so much game it’s going to blow your bloody head off.”

“Not exactly what I’m looking for in a partner, but I am always open to new experiences.”

“You little minx,” I say.

He laughs again and the warm, husky sound makes me happy. I kick off my Converse and unbuckle my belt, and his laughter dies. He’s leaning against the breakfast bar, watching me with heated eyes. I wink at him and push my shorts and briefs off in one go, leaving me stark naked.

He licks his lips and gives me the most thorough up-and-down look I’ve ever had. I stand tall and spread my arms out so he can look his fill. I’ve never been bothered by nakedness—my own or other people’s.

“You’re lagging behind,” I prompt.

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes—his gaze is avaricious.

“Well, we can’t have that.” His accent is more pronounced than it’s ever been.

I swallow hard as he strips off his clothes a lot more gracefully than I managed. I fist my cock, stroking it lazily as I watch him. His body is wonderful. He’s tall and wide-shouldered, his skin olive-toned and soft-looking. His chest is broad and covered in brown hair liberally shot through with grey. He’s not slender, and the signs of approaching age are there to see in the thickening at his waist and the slight roundness of his belly. However, I’ve never seen anyone so robust and sexy. It’s his confidence and vitality that light him up and make him so incredibly sexy.

“Into the bedroom,” he says throatily.

I touch my finger to my temple. “Aye-aye, captain.”

“If only you were going to be that malleable, Laurie,” he says in a mournful tone.

I laugh, but the truth is I am malleable during sex. I love giving up part of my control and letting go, knowing my partner is focused on my pleasure. It sounds selfish, but I’ve always made sure I give as good as I get.

My thoughts scramble as he kisses me. “Turn off that brain now,” he orders and kisses me again, taking my mouth and forcing his tongue inside. Connected like this, we shuffle towards the bedroom, bouncing off a couple of walls and occasionally stopping to break into laughter.

I’ve never felt this free before with anyone, I think wonderingly, and then he kisses me again and tumbles me onto the bed. He comes over me immediately, and we both moan as our cocks rub together, saluting each other with damp pre-come kisses.

I pull away and push his chest. “On your back,” I say, my voice hoarse.

He looks at me for a few seconds and then smirks, falling to his back with a lot more grace than I show as I scramble over the mattress to him, almost falling off the bed in my enthusiasm.

Mags’s smirk vanishes as I lean in, inhaling the rich scent of his pubes before taking his cock head into my mouth and suckling on it like a lollipop.

I’m gratified to see all signs of brain function disappear as he pushes his head into the pillow, his eyes closing. I lick and suck on the head, trailing kisses down the length of his dick before going back to his head, where I suck until it’s glossy with spit and I can taste tangy pre-come. Then I lean in and take his cock down the back of my throat.

He groans as if in pain, and the sound makes my own cock jerk. I push on it to calm the fucker down and suck hard, watching as Mags spreads his legs and pushes up. His hands rise as if he’s going to grab me, but then he reconsiders and lowers them to the mattress. I reach over and hold them. When he opens his eyes, I put his hands on the back of my head, mutely telling him to go ahead. He hesitates for a split second, and then gets with the programme, twining his fingers in my hair and pushing me into his groin.

I gag for a second, and feel my whole body thrumming with desire. I love this. I love being taken over and controlled like I’m serving him.

I suck harder and his hands drop to my shoulders. His nails dig in, hard enough to leave marks, and I pull off his cock panting.

His eyes are hot and knowing. “You like that?” he asks, his voice heavily accented.

I nod and moan as he reaches down and traces his fingers over my hips and arse. He runs one tantalising finger along my crack before pulling back and slapping my arse.

“Bend over the bed,” he commands.

I scramble to obey as he stands up and rifles through the bedside drawer. He throws a condom and a bottle of lube down beside me.

“Open your legs and show me your hole, Laurie,” he orders.

I shiver before complying. The air is cool on my entrance, but I barely notice it as he leans down and licks my crack. I come up on my elbows. “I haven’t had a shower,” I say hoarsely.

“I like the way you smell. Shut up.”

I lower back down to the bed, feeling the soft, warm caress of the velvet coverlet and screwing my eyes shut as he moves between my spread cheeks, giving my hole a delicate lick before putting his hands on mine and going to town on me.

He licks and suckles, pulling back to spit on the hole, working me open with his tongue and three lube-wet fingers while I writhe and pant, pushing my aching cock into the mattress, searching for pressure.

He pulls back slightly, and I hear the crinkle of the packet opening and the snap of the latex when he rolls it down. Then he moves over me, pushing my face into the bed in a bossy manner that’s hot as fuck.

I cry out as he slides his cock slowly into me, and he kisses my shoulder.

“Alright?” he asks.

“God, yes. Keep going,” I pant. “I love it.”

When he bottoms out, we stay still as I pant through the burn. He’s wider than anyone I’ve had lately, and I wriggle against the pinch. The movement urges his cock against my sweet spot, and starlight shoots through me. I cry out and come up on my hands, arching back into him.

He groans, and, fastening his hands on my shoulders, he begins to thrust into me. His damp chest hair scratches my back, and he grunts as he forces his way into me. It’s impossibly hot, and way before I’m ready, I feel a tell-tale tingle in my balls. I grab the base of my cock and squeeze.

When I’ve staved off my climax, I look back. His face is hard and set. “Stop,” I say. “Get on your back on the bed.”

He stills his hips and stares at me, our breathing loud in the quiet room.

“You’re a bossy bottom. I should have guessed that, Laurie.”

I smile but then wince as he pulls out, even though he goes slowly. I’m going to feel him tomorrow. He lowers himself onto the mattress, his muscled body a beautiful contrast to the white sheets.

“I may like you driving the sex, Mags, but I still like being a part of it. I don’t just want to be told what to do.”

“I haven’t met an occasion when you do,” he says wryly. The humour dies away as I crouch over him.

“Put it in me,” I whisper. I feel his big hands squeezing my buttocks before he pushes me up, grabbing his cock and tapping it against my hole.

“God, you’re big,” I say, giving a throaty groan as I sink down onto him, feeling him fill me up. We both grunt as my backside meets his lap, and his cock is fully in me.

“Ride me, Laurie,” he says, and his eyes slide shut as I do just that.

I bounce on his dick, gently at first, crying out at his girth, and then harder until I’m pounding myself down on him. His hands cup my arse, and I bend and kiss him.

He freezes for a second as if he’s stunned that I’m kissing him during sex, but then his lips open, and he moans into my mouth. We keep the connection, tangling our tongues until our bodies become frantic, and we can only pant into each other’s mouths.

My balls tingle, and this time I don’t fight it. I push my feet under his thighs and sit back, resting my hands on his chest and tangling my fingers in the hair there. I writhe, and his deep groan echoes through the room. I can feel every centimetre of him in this position, and I’m quickly reaching the point of no control.

“Mags?” I gasp.

“Yes,” he says in a thick voice. “Yes, Laurie.”

I slam down on him, and his big hand grabs my cock. He squeezes me as he pulls his fist up, and I’m gone, spurting into his palm until the come trickles over his fingers. After the last pulse is finished, he lets go of me and licks his fingers.

I push down on him. “Don’t stop,” I say hoarsely. “Come in me, Mags.”

He grabs my hips, and slams into me a few times before giving a truncated groan. There’s a burst of heat inside me as he comes into the condom and then I fall forward, his arms immediately surrounding me and holding me tightly.

Eventually, I manoeuvre off him and fall to my back, staring up at the ceiling and gulping air.

“Well, I think you should definitely keep that ashtray on the bedside table, Mags. It obviously helps,” I mutter.

I steal a glance at him, and he starts to laugh, the sound loud and hearty in the quiet room and I can’t help but laugh too. He deals with the condom, tossing it rather cavalierly over the side of the bed, where he’ll probably step on it later. I repress a smile. I hope I see that happen. Then he rolls into me, throwing his arm over my stomach.

“Stay for a bit,” he orders.

“Well, just for a minute or so,” I whisper. “I’ve got to go through my ribbon box before I can sleep.”

He chuckles. “Make it a pretty one, sweetheart.”

I settle back into the pillows, enjoying the warmth of his body against mine, the hairs on his chest tickling my ribs and the dampness of his cock against my leg. The scent of sex is heady. I breathe in and close my eyes for a second.

* * *

I don’t knowhow long it is before I stir. Shit, I must have fallen asleep.

I push my hair back from my face and squint at the clock. It’s three in the fucking morning. So much for closing my eyes for a second. I haven’t slept this long in ages.

I look over at my bed partner. He’s lying on his side facing me, and the moonlight plays on his face, highlighting those high, broad cheekbones.

Asleep, he looks younger, the sharp lines of his face softened and lacking the vitality that usually infuses his expression. His hair has fallen over his forehead, and my fingers twitch with the urge to push it back. That impulse towards tenderness is utterly alien to me.

It’s an enjoyable novelty to be able to observe him without his face becoming amused and smug as if he’s caught me out in some weakness. I catalogue the lines of his body and the beauty of the hand outstretched towards me, looking somewhat innocent.

My fingers tingle, and the customary urge to draw swamps me. Over the last several months, this need has been magnified times a billion. The old, sweet, familiar lure of my art has now become a desperate compulsion.

I’m not going to sleep anymore, so I ease carefully out of bed, feeling a lovely twinge in my arse. Mags stirs, and I freeze for a second, but then he smacks his lips and turns to his other side. I let out a slow breath and creep out to the lounge, where I stoop to pick up my clothes that are strewn all over the room, evidence of the desperation that had seized us earlier.

I dress quickly and then let myself out. I pause for a second with my hand on the front door, seized with the contradictory desire to go back to his room, take off my clothes and slide into bed again. I could wake him up with his cock in my mouth and hear that breathy grunt he gives when he comes. I could let sex sweep me under to a place where I can’t think anymore.

I won’t do it, though, and, when I quietly shut the door, the click of the lock sounds somehow final. I make my way back to my flat, telling myself sternly to get over it. “It was just sex,” I whisper into the quiet hush. “Letting off steam. Put him out of your bloody head.”

But even as I grab my sketchbook and pencil, he’s front and centre in my mind. I exhale slowly and start to draw. My pencil moves quickly, and I lose myself in the quiet joy of drawing. It’s a familiar lifelong happiness made especially poignant at this moment in my life. When I’ve finished, I sit back and frown. On the cream-coloured paper, Mags lies stretched out naked amongst his messy sheets and lit by moonlight.

“Shit,” I say with feeling.