In Bloom - Chapter 2

She opens her eyes. He's still there. She sees him motion for her to take his hand and follow him. She stands and together they move awkwardly between tables, towards the exit. She's a little unsteady on her feet and stumbles slightly. (Double gin and tonics do that to you when you haven’t eaten all day, don’t they?) Instinctively, he puts his hand out to prevent her from falling. He makes full but accidental contact with her bottom. As he does so, their eyes meet and she giggles.

“Come on, let’s go,” he says.

They step out into the London drizzle. He gathers her inside his coat and together they run towards the nearby tube station. Sheltering under the canopy outside the escalator that descends to the Central Line at Holborn, he looks down at her, her face wet with rain and her hair falling into her eyes. She looks a little sad. He wonders if it is because she feels the rain and the pressures of the day, the fact that she was late and didn’t have time to freshen up and re-apply her make-up, have made her look less than her best. On his face is a look she can’t read. In a single movement, he pushes the wayward strands of hair from her face and cups her cheek with the palm of his hand. His face, too, is wet with rain. The water glistens as it runs down his skin.

“You are so beautiful, Jane Cassidy,” he says with a smile. “Let’s find somewhere we can get out of this rain.”

He flags down a Hackney cab and they jump into the taxi. She thinks it must be the driver’s first job of the day. The warm air blower is on but car has yet to warm up. She shivers.

“The Bloomsbury Hotel please,” he says to the cabbie, who then speeds off into the London twilight with the two of them huddled together on the back seat , their thighs parallel and touching. She feels the heat from his legs against hers as she snuggles into his warm body.
They don’t speak as the car slowly makes its way through the London traffic. Her mind drifts off to faraway places and she imagines herself stretching out on a sunbed, the sun blazing down on her body, a Long Island Iced Tea on a low table next to her. She sighs.

The car judders to a halt and she is awoken from her daydream. She is immediately aware that her fingers are interlinked with his, gripping his hand tightly. He squeezes.

“We’re here, honey,” he whispers into her.
“The Bloomsbury. That’ll be £7.80, guv’nor,” says the driver, turning round to face them.

He hands the driver a ten pound note and he steps from the cab, his hand still gripping hers.
She follows him up the stone steps to the imposing hotel doorway.

“Have a seat, Jane,” he says. “I’ll just check us in.”

She sits in a plush leather armchair and looks around. In the hotel foyer there are people milling around, tourists mainly, it would appear. Smartly-dressed couples ready for the opera or one of the theatres in the West End chatter as they wait for taxis whilst others arrive and wait to check in.

Five minutes later he returns, smiling. In his hand, a plastic card for the hotel room door. She stands and follows him to the lift. He presses the button with the upward-pointing arrow and they wait together, side by side, her hand still in his. She has relaxed a little after sitting down but suddenly and for no obvious reason, her heart begins to flutter wildly.
This is it. If I am going to turn back I have to do it now.

One of the eight lifts arrives and several people step out with suitcases. The two of them step inside. There is no one else in the lift. He presses the button with a number four on it. The doors close and the elevator silently and quickly ascends. She doesn’t look at him throughout the short ride. As they rise, she can hear the hum of the motor propelling their upward ride forming the background drone to the beat of her heart as it seems to echo inside the lift shaft. Seconds later, a muted bell sounds and the doors slide open, revealing an opulently decorated corridor. Cream-coloured plaster walls patterned with alternating silvered mirrors and mahogany faux-shutters. All very tasteful.

They step out and walk hand-in-hand down the corridor.

He pauses at the first door before proceeding to the next and the next. “No… no… no… Ah! Here we are!” he says as he lets go of her hand and places the plastic key into the mechanism of the hotel room door.

Once inside, she takes off her coat and places it on a hanger in the cupboard while he closes the door. He turns around and walks over to her. With her back against the wall, she looks up into his eyes, her naked vulnerability on display for him to see. Her heart feels to her like it might burst out of her chest.

At once, he steps closer to her and put his left arm behind her, placing his palm flat against the base of her spine and pulling her towards him. She is taken by surprise. She doesn't resist. His right hand is now on her head, his fingers in her damp hair. His eyes inches from hers. He stares deep into her, his gaze burning. What is he thinking?

“I want you, Jane,” he whispers. “I want you tonight. Now.”

Something magical and swoony occurs inside her. She feels another jolt, and shudders. Did that really happen? she wonders.
She feels his hand gently massaging her head as he places his lips softly on hers. His stubble is rough and slightly uncomfortable against the smoothness of her cheek. Uncomfortable yes, but she likes it.

He has her pinned against the wall. His body now tight against her, she can feel his hardness through the fabric of his trousers. His mouth against her ear, his breathing quickening. She feels his left hand glide around from her back to her waist and upwards inside her light cotton shirt. The warmth of it against her cool skin causes her to open her eyes in surprise and delight. His hand stops abruptly. His eyes are fixed on hers, looking for clues. Does she still want this? he wonders.
A tiny glint in her eyes gives him the go-ahead. They don’t speak but there is no doubt between them as to the meaning of their exchange. Her eyes lower and his hand continues its journey, reaching the lacy material of her brassiere. His fingers linger over her, touching the uneven fabric, almost worshipping it like some ancient and sacred garment. She feels him push his middle finger between her skin and the band of her bra. Oh, don’t stop…

His finger presses against her softness but is constrained by the tightness of her underwear. He removes his fingers and his hand reaches around her back again; this time to the clasp of her bra, which he unclips in a moment. She feels it loosen and release her small breasts from its hold. Instantly his hand is on her, pushing against her, massaging her while he kisses her more forcefully now, his ardour raised. Against her crotch, the heat of his arousal, like an warmed iron bar presses against her.

Freeing both of his hands, slowly he undoes the first of the buttons nearest to her neck. Her face is slightly flushed, her neck and chest too. Her hair now messed up from the movement of his hand, she looks exquisitely wanton. She wants this.

He proceeds to undo the remaining buttons of her shirt, the panels parting as each button releases. He finds himself holding his breath as more of her body is revealed to him for the first time. He hears himself involuntarily humming in approval, his eyes wide, as her shirt and bra fall to the hardwood-panelled floor. Her arms move inwards as if in a half-attempt to cover herself. She looks down at her feet. He puts his arms around her and holds her tightly. She is glorious in her shy nakedness.
“Oh Jane…”

He stands back to look at her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, then speaks louder. “I don’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I just want to see you. God, you look amazing, honey. Come here.”
He beckons to her and she takes his hand. He leads her to the large double bed in the middle of the room. She stands, nervously kicks off her shoes and waits for whatever he is going to do next. He puts his hand on her hips and runs them down her thighs.

“Mmmmmm, you,”  he says.

He reaches behind her and unzips her skirt. She steps out of it leaving herself standing in just lace panties. Again he stands back to look at her. He shakes his head, seemingly unable to process the information bombarding his brain. He removes his jacket and kicks off his own shoes.

“Come and lie down with me, please, Miss Cassidy.”

She sits on the edge of the bed and lifts her legs so she is lying on the rightmost edge, her body raised and the palms of her hands flat against the duvet. He climbs onto the thick white quilt and kisses her forehead.

“Lie back, honey.” As she does so, he undoes the buttons on the cuffs of his shirt, followed by those of the main part of the shirt itself. She notices a fine trail of dark hair down the centre of his chest, blossoming into a more concentrated patch on his upper body. In the other direction, her eyes follow as the dark trail courses down over his belly and down beyond the waistband of his trousers.

He moves to the other side of the bed and climbs across the duvet so he is next to her. Turning on her side, she is facing him. His eyes meet hers as his hand traces the contour of her slim body. She smiles sweetly as she sees appreciation and desire spread across his face.

The touch of his hand exploring her body begins to have an effect. There's a pulling inside her tummy, a building desire for this man she has only known for a few weeks. A man who up until an hour ago she had never met. Not in the flesh. And here she is now about to give herself to him completely.

He turns her onto her front and she closes her eyes. His firm hand still caressing her as he covers her back with light, gentle kisses that make her feel she is floating around the room. He drags his nails lightly down either side of her back while he continues to trail kisses down her. Her breathing is heavier now. Her hips are moving against the bed, as she unconsciously pushes herself forward and back, in search of relief. He watches her bottom moving up and down ever so slightly. She emits a soft moan and he knows she is ready for more. He lets the kisses drift to a stop.

“Turn over, honey.”

She looks up with a slightly drowsy look on her face. Her hair has dried now, her mouth open in anticipation of what is to come. She obliges and, still in his clothes, he sits up. He removes his shirt and straddles her body. His hands cup her breasts, squeezing her gently and together the two lovers move against each other, their eyes closing with each slow synchronised gyration of their hips.

“Mmmmm,” she gasps.

He moves down her body and leans to kiss her n*****s. Between his thumb and forefinger he gently massages them in turn into tumescence before taking each, again in turn, into his mouth. Dragging his tongue across her upright little towers and drawing them into his mouth, he sucks and sends a shockwave from her n*****s to her stomach and below. Between her legs, a deep stirring. A yearning for stimulation.

He seems caught up in the moment, unable to take his lips from her soft breasts. She notices that somehow his belt is now undone, (he must have unbuckled it when she was turned over), the top two buttons also. She sees the outline of his now rampant hardness beneath the material of his CKs; the waistband now straining to withstand the pulsing movement within. Steeling herself to summon all the bravery she can muster, she reaches down to him and puts her hand against his aching hot erection. He throws his head back and moans.

“Ohhh, please.” She rubs a little harder. “Mmmmmmmm, honey. Do it.”

He smiles. She smiles back at him.
He sits up and repositions himself between her legs.

“Lie back down, you,” he says mock-sternly.

She looks up at him, pretending to feel chastised and lowers her eyes. She does as he says and lies down on her back, staring at the ceiling awaiting his next move.

“Close your eyes, baby,” he tells her.

She feels his fingers tracing lines from her ankles to her knees; from her knees to her thighs and back again. It feels wonderful. His soft touch makes her body tingle with excitement and anticipation. He continues for what seems like minutes but is in reality only fifteen seconds or so. Now she is feeling desperate for more. He lies on his front so she can feel his stubble against her inner thighs.

His fingers now on her panties, rubbing against her now moist p***y beneath the flimsy material. He pushes against her and feels how easily she yields to his touch. He massages her a little longer, savouring each and every little moan she makes. How beautiful it sounds. How wonderful it feels to give her such pleasure.

Her scent is in his nostrils. He is beginning to ache for her now. With the fingers of his right hand he pulls the crotch of her panties to one side, revealing her wetness.

“F**k…” he hears someone say, but it is his own voice, struck by the raw essence of her womanhood, so close him, so ready for him, so in need. He lowers his head and allows the tip of his tongue to glide once across her outer lips. She moans. Louder than before. He moves his tongue across her once more.

“Ohhhhh f**k!” she moans. “More, please… more.”

He increases the motion, but only very slightly. Her hips now rising and falling with each pass his tongue makes across her p***y.

“Oh God, I love it...” she moans. “Don’t stop.”

His tongue begins to probe deeper into her. She tastes divine.
He sweeps his tongue once across her clitoris and immediately her body bucks against him, her hips rising suddenly from the bed, pushing her soft hot wet flesh into his face. She moans even louder this time.

“Aaaaaargh f**k! F**k, f**k, f**k! Give it to me!”

He manages to control her movments and gradually increases the pressure of his tongue on her. He pushes gently against the nerve centre of her love bud. She reacts to his touch, her eyes rolling in her head, the feeling threatening to overtake her.

His tongue movement is relentless, and slowly he pushes a finger inside her, easing it in just a little at a time until he has the full length of it in her. He makes a gentle beckoning movement with his finger, massaging her G-spot, bringing her to the top of the mountain. A wave, the wave that has been building up for the previous eternity reaches its height inside her. For a few seconds she is on the edge of a wondrous precipice, hanging by a golden thread, dangling over the abyss of who knows what?

He continues his lapping motion on her, with constant and unyielding pressure, And then she feels it explode. A balloon of warm treacle bursts inside her and floods her body with a glow that suffuses her every molecule, making every other thing in her life fade to the edges, leaving only a gorgeous, languid, dreamy sense of contentment washing over her.

He watches as she lies there, her back arching as her orgasm courses through her body. He smiles to see her so caught up in the moment, unable to control her feelings and desires. She comes with beautiful, soft cries of joy, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. He bites his lower lip as he watches this girl in the throes of ecstasy, and he smiles a wistful smile. How she tugs at his heartstrings. How he wants to make her happy. Eventually, she regains some of her composure. She looks desperately into his eyes.

"That was just so wonderful. So wonderful." She starts to cry.

“Hey, there’s no need to cry, honey,” he says softly to her.

“It was ... just... so... beautiful,” she sobs in response.

He hands her a tissue to dry her eyes. She smiles a heartbreakingly sad smile back at him and exhales deeply. This girl, this beautiful little creature has captured something within him. How he aches to possess her, to make her happy, to make her whole again.

She sits upright with her back against a pillow, her legs flat against the white duvet. He pulls himself up and moves close to her, sitting next her and cradling her in his arms. She rests her head on his shoulders. She seems so fragile, so delicate, so wonderful.

She feels his heart beating against her cheek and closes her eyes. With his right arm extended across her body, pulling her closer to him, he kisses her hair, breathing in her scent, shocked at how intoxicated every aspect of her makes him feel. Her vulnerability stirs in him a primeval need, a need to protect her from the ills of the world (how ludicrous that sounds inside his head); her words, always so kind and simple and straightforward, pierce his heart with their openness and lack of guile.

With the tips of his fingers, he turns her face up to look at him. Her tears have now stopped but her eyes remain full and they glisten like little glassy pools reflecting his gaze.

He kisses her gently on the lips once. Then again.

“Jane, I want to make love to you,” he whispers.

“I want that too,” she says. “I do.”

He lifts her body an inch or so from the bed so she is able to wriggle down and lie completely flat. With his open palm against her warm thigh, he parts her legs and moves his whole body so he is now on his knees, sitting between them. He stares directly between her parted thighs and then into her eyes. She can see the desire burning in his eyes. He exhales loudly. Oh my.

She watches as he shifts his position, lifting his body above her, his erection now fully at one hundred per cent. She feels it touch her thigh. How hot and hard it feels. Hard and smooth at the same time. Like steel in a velvet glove. She feels the back of his fingers against her p***y lips as he positions himself against her, guiding himself towards her hot wetness as he prepares to enter her.

“Are you ok?” he asks, looking concerned. “Are you sure about this?”

She smiles sweetly back at him and nods, reaching her open hand towards him, gripping his rising manhood and pulling it gently towards her. She closes her eyes and involuntarily shakes her head  slowly from to the right and then to the left as if she can’t believe this is really happening.

Desperate for him to take her, she guides him to her opening, til the tip of his c**k is in direct contact with her soft, eager outer lips. She feels herself pulsating in anticipation as he pauses on the brink of their union. He eases himself slowly into her. Inch by inch, she feels him fill her up.

An incredible feeling of joy, of fulfilment, of happiness washes over her She is shocked at the power of it all. Saliva catches in her throat as he pushes deeper into her. Her staccato breathing prevents her from uttering anything more than “Oh God, oh God,” as the pain and pleasure threaten to overcome her.

He bends his neck to kiss her. She senses him swallowing, holding back as best he can as he crushes her mouth with his own. His tongue forces its way into her mouth, invading her, violating her, dancing with her as she buckles beneath him, yielding to his force.

He takes her ankles, one in either hand, and spreads her legs wide so as to allow greater penetration; he begins to thrust more powerfully into her, now moaning himself in time with her lighter, breathier cries. Their out of control cries coalesce each and every time he plunges into her.

“Ohh... ,” she hesitates; this unfamiliar language feels strange on her lips, “F**k me...”

He feels himself approaching the point of no return. He speeds up to meet his desire head-on as his head starts to pound. The sweat runs down his face and onto his chest, shimmering in the light of the streetlamp that pours through the hotel window.

She gives herself completely to the heavenly pleasure flowing through her body as he pounds her into submission. She feels it all building again towards an explosion of warm, honeyed sensuality. Different this time, less gentle, more animal but just as wonderful. For all the power and noise (he is SO loud!) still he touches her heart with his tenderness each and every time their eyes meet throughout their time together, every time his fingers close around hers, even at the height of their shared passion.

She looks up at him. His body lifted slightly away from her now, but continuing to give her everything he has. His back arched, he lets loose a loud and agonising moan and she feels him release inside her, pulsing again and again and again as she shatters into a billion tiny pieces around him, her body now quivering with sensitivity as if a countless little pins are pricking her body.

“OHHHHHHHHHHHH!” they come together, their bodies joined continuing to move, swaying in perfect synchronisation with each other.

His mouth is now against hers, his breathing heavy, so very heavy. He releases her mouth from his. He tries to speak but his words are indecipherable to her. He slumps back against her, his full body weight in other circumstances would crush her, but it feels right this way. Totally spent, he buries his face in her neck, drinking in her scent,  kissing the beautifully smooth skin of her neck and chest. He suddenly realises she is bearing his full weight and he moves to lift himself from her.

Looking down, having regained partially his normal breathing ability, he smiles his biggest smile and shakes his head in disbelief at the thing they have just done.

“You,” he breathes heavily, “Are,” another laboured breath, “So,” another, “Wonderful.”

She smiles back. Not quite so shyly this time.