Poison - Jade West Page 0,105

groaned, and then he came. A spurt of pure fucking cream that drenched my face, splattering my open mouth and my cheeks along with it, but the fountain kept on going, another stream landing right in my eye.

Fuck, I wanted it all.

He was shuddering when he finished.

So was I.

“Holy fuck, Anna,” he said, and lowered himself back down, his chest to mine. I wrapped my legs around him, and he was warm, and strong, and everything I’d ever wanted.

I didn’t need to ask him to kiss me, he was already there. He licked his cum from my cheek and pushed his tongue into my mouth all over again. And there was no shame in me. No urge to rush to my feet and disguise my weakness. No hating myself for my disgusting bodily functions and how I couldn’t control them.

My soul soared.

My heart burst free and made me fly.

I was happy. So damn happy I could touch the sky.

Lucas was catching his breath when he finally pulled away and took the knickers from my mouth. He rolled onto his back and dropped them onto his stomach like some kind of victory banner before reaching out for my hand.

He squeezed my fingers and he was grinning at the ceiling.

So was I.

I was grinning too.

And then I was laughing.

“I’ve got spunk eye,” I giggled, and I did have. I could feel it getting sore already, certain it would be bloodshot in minutes.

He was laughing along with me, and it was a beautiful sound. “Well, dirty girl. I think it’s safe to say I won’t be treating you like a china doll anytime soon.”

I caught my breath myself, and we relaxed into the buzz of the aftermath, holding each other tight – until the practicalities of Sunday morning eventually kicked in on us.

It was time to get moving.

My meds were easy to grab from my suitcase, and I took those with juice while Lucas stripped the bed.

There was no self-consciousness inside me at all as he bundled the sheets up in the laundry. I was still grinning hard as we brushed our teeth in tandem and I smoothed my ragged hair down into some semblance of order.

We were having breakfast and watching the dogs charging around in the yard when conversation inevitably made its way around to the day before – but today it landed on somewhere it hadn’t stopped before.

It landed on Nicola grabbing him in the hallway before we left the apartment yesterday.

“She said I need to talk to Yasmin Boyle,” Lucas said, and pulled a face of confusion. “Do you have any clue what the hell Yasmin Boyle would have to talk to me about? I haven’t seen her in years.”

I shrugged. “She doesn’t like Maya. She was trying to tell me so at girls’ night, and then again at Amy Miller’s wedding, but I didn’t listen. I couldn’t bring myself to hear it. Didn’t seem relevant.”

“She doesn’t like Maya?” he asked, and his confusion intensified. “They used to be great friends when we got together.”

“Not anymore,” I told him. “She definitely doesn’t like her now. She said I owe her nothing. She said neither of us do.”

He finished up his toast and grabbed his phone, and I stared over as he flicked through his contacts.

“She’s in Newcastle now, I think. I don’t have her number.”

“I’ll get it.”

I grabbed my phone from my bag, and pinged Nicola since she must have had some contact details to get her to girls’ night.

I also asked her what was so important about Lucas speaking to Yasmin Boyle, but all I got back was a number and a Get Lucas to ask her himself.

Under normal circumstances, I’d have pushed her harder, but she turned the conversation into a run down on how I was doing, and when I was through with replying Lucas had already grabbed her number from me and made the call. He was on the phone to her when I finished up answering Nicola, and I messaged my parents and Vicky to let them know I was doing ok while he was speaking.

I didn’t listen, because it wasn’t my place, just kept my attention on my own conversations. But it seemed it wouldn’t have made all that much difference to his privacy if I had have done.

He looked puzzled as hell as he hung up the call and came back to me at the kitchen table.

“She wants to tell me in person. She says phone or text doesn’t cut it.”

I tipped