The Face (Harry Tyler Book 1) by Garry Bushell Read Free Book Online

she hadn’t said a word. He took a deep breath. Or was it that he just couldn’t be bothered to ring any more? Don’t go there. Just be Mr smiley-happy family man.
    Who was he trying to kid? Harry just knew that when he surfaced for air later that day Kara would get aboard him about the house, about little Courtney Rose, about a holiday, about not ringing her. He scowled as he turned the key in the lock, but the door wouldn’t open. The inner bolts were on. Of course they were. He rang the bell once. “Hang on, hang on!” Kara rushed to the door. “I was just moving Courtney back in her own bed. She was snuggled in with me.”
    “You should have left her, doll,” Harry said, with a weak smile. “I’d have kipped in the spare room.”
    He held her close to him, close and tight, until Kara got uncomfortable and wriggled away. She put her face close to his. He expected her to tell him how much she loved him. Instead came the question that had become his wife’s catchphrase . “Have you been drinking?” she said.
    Harry didn’t remember the rest of the conversation. He didn’t even remember undressing and crashing into bed. But now he was there he couldn’t shut his brain off. The harder he tried to sleep, the more his mind bombarded him with images from the day. He rolled on to his right shoulder and looked at the digital numbers on his Homer Simpson alarm clock. The bright green glow told him it was 4.45 am. Then 5.03 am. He saw 5.13 am and drifted off into sweet oblivion.
    Harry came to at 12.37 pm. He was aware of Kara creeping across the room to the wardrobe. He glanced across at her. She had her back to him and was reaching up for something off the top shelf so that the short dress she was wearing rode up level with her white Tanga panties. She had fucking great pins. He wriggled his legs to let her know he was alive.
    “Are you awake, Harry?” she whispered.
    He gave it a thought. Was he ready to handle the world yet? He could certainly handle them legs.
    “Yes, babe,” he grunted. “I need a slash.”
    Great opening gambit, he thought. Move over, Casanova, there’s a new stud in town. Harry swung out of bed and stumbled to the toilet on auto-pilot, then guided himself back towards the bed like a distressed Jumbo. Kara was undressing as he crash-landed. She had her back to him and was unhooking her bra. He turned his head to watch her turn around in all her naked glory and smiled weakly. Kara lifted the duvet and slipped alongside him, nestling into his body. Her left arm hugged his pot belly. He could feel her tight, firm breasts in his back. Her smell, that wonderful Kara fragrance, played around his nose till it twitched. He had a fleeting image of the cartoon kids in the old Bisto ads. Ah, rumpo, he thought to himself. Harry smiled and rolled over. Kara turned away, covering her breasts with her arms. Gently Harry slipped his right hand through her defences and cupped her left breast, then the right, softly squeezing the nipples before running his fingers over her stomach. Her skin felt good, like stroking satin. He nuzzled her long copper hair. Kara was 34, but had the body of a 20-year-old, firm in all the right places. Childbirth had not betrayed her.
    “I’m afraid I’ll have to caution you, madam,” Harry said in clipped, Estuary cop-speak. “You have the right to remain gorgeous.” She giggled. To his eager ears, the sound was like ambrosia being poured on rose petals.
    His tiredness forgotten, Harry gyrated his already hard cock against the cheeks of her arse. He parted her legs with his hands and left it lodged between the two ports of entry. Then his hand found her breasts again as he kissed the back of her neck. Gently, gently. His cock felt like cast iron. God, it had been a while. The kisses became a play bite, just to let her know it was mating time. But then Kara rolled over and took control, pushing Harry on his back and straddling him. Harry grabbed her hips and thrust his