Indecent...Desires by Jane O'Reilly Read Free Book Online Page B

at him like some sort of thirty-something harridan with an attitude problem. ‘I got your note,’ I snap.
    â€˜Oh,’ he says. ‘Should I not have sent it? Should I have phoned you instead?’
    â€˜No, you should not!’ I push past him before I even realise what I’m doing, and then I’m inside his flat, which is comfortably untidy and smells of him. I move into the middle of the living room, take in the faded sofa and the coffee table with the pile of well-thumbed Stephen King novels on top of it. The windowsill is dusty and the curtains are old and don’t match the carpet, yet there’s a sense of comfortableness in here that doesn’t exist in my own flat. I turn, find him standing in the doorway, watching me, and something inside me breaks. Something that had started to shatter back in the darkness of the stationery cupboard at work, when he told me I wasn’t disgusting and I touched myself in front of him.
    For the first time in a long time, I feel in control of my life. Of what happens to me. ‘Show me your bedroom,’ I say finally.
    â€˜It’s through here,’ he says, his voice catching in his throat.
    I know what he’s thinking, because I’m thinking it too. I follow him through into that private space, a space I know he would never normally share. I haven’t shared the bedroom in my flat with anyone. I haven’t even shared it with Lucas because I always sat in the dark, refusing to let him see in.
    But he shared his space with me and he’s sharing it now, as he stands aside to let me in. It’s small, dominated by a king-sized bed with a rumpled duvet and a huge chest of drawers. A yellow plastic hanger is hooked on the back of the door, with a shirt draped over it.
    I look at the bed. Lucas looks at me, and then he looks at the bed.
    â€˜I would like to fuck you,’ he says. ‘I know it’s wrong of me to say that. But I would really like to fuck you.’
    I turn my head, let my gaze travel over him, let those words work their way through me. He doesn’t want to have sex with me, to have a missionary position quickie that will satisfy him but not me. He wants to
fuck
me. ‘I’m not very good at this,’ I say.
    â€˜At what?’
    â€˜At this.’ I gesture to the room, to the bed, to him.
    â€˜Just be yourself,’ he says.
    â€˜That’s easy for you to say. Look at yourself.’ I take in his broad shoulders inside his shirt and tank top, the unfastened collar, the messy hair. I take in the tailored trousers, the mismatched socks, the long legs and the glorious bulge at his crotch. The air all but crackles with a sudden spark of tension. ‘Are you ever
not
hard?’
    He scratches his head, then gives me a little glimpse of those dimples. ‘Sometimes,’ he admits. ‘But I am not very good at controlling it.’
    Be yourself.
It sounds so simple, so easy. And maybe it is.
Bossy Meredith.
‘Then it’s about time you learned,’ I say. I gesture to his clothing. ‘Get undressed.’
    â€˜Completely?’
    I nod. ‘Yes. You are going to get undressed and then I am going to give you a lesson in self-control. Because clearly the one I gave you earlier hasn’t sunk in.’
    His eyes go wide with excitement, and I can see he’s trying not to smile, though he’s not doing a very good job of it. The fluttering in my stomach gets stronger as he pulls off his tank top then tugs off his shirt without even bothering to unfasten it. He lets them both drop to the floor and then starts on his trousers, his hands shaking as he rushes to get them off. And then he’s stood in front of me, completely naked and fiercely erect. I haven’t even taken my shoes off.
    That dark gaze settles on me, and for a moment, he lets me see the wickedness in it. And then he wraps a hand around his cock and slides his fingers slowly to the tip. He glides