Read Online Chances by Freya North - Free Book Online

see. He stares and stares, gorging on the sight before plunging right in. She’s bellowing. Five thrusts. Then three. Two. One.
    ‘Fuck,’ he says, repeating it again and again as he comes. His body feels as though it’s peeled inside out, he feels sucked into the depths of her, he can feel those talons fixed into his buttocks. She’s still writhing and humping and she’s roaring at him to make her come again. But he doesn’t want to, he just wants to go. She’s not letting him. She’s bucking and twisting and screwing herself onto his spent cock and now, thank God, she’s making coming noises. His face is buried in the pillow, turned away from her and he wants her to let go of his ear with her teeth.
    ‘God, that was good,’ she’s purring, dragging her nails up and down his back, through his hair. ‘I needed that.’
    But Oliver can’t reply because actually, he could weep. He could sob and howl. It’s always the same these days – as soon as his balls are empty he is subsumed with an all-encompassing hollowness, a dreadful terrifying emptiness that sex without love causes. It’s a hateful situation – to need to fuck so badly, to need human touch though he knows now the utter wretchedness its aftermath brings.
    But Oliver is a good man, a lovely man. He has manners and innate kindness and a sense of decorum. So he won’t run to the bathroom, change and get the hell out of there as soon as he can. He could, but he won’t. He gives himself a moment, a long moment, then he slides out of her, lies on his back, lets her lie on his chest, lets her run her hands in that post-coital languor over his torso. But he can’t feel it. His spent body is numb now, there’s nothing left inside or outside. And he can hear her talking but he’s not really listening.
    ‘My husband had an accident at work. We don’t have sex. He has depression – impotence. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a lovely man. But I need sex, you know? I’m almost fifty. I love my husband – don’t get me wrong. But I don’t want to leave him and I don’t want to find myself drawn to having an affair. So that’s why I do the websites – because they’re discreet, aren’t they? People like me – like you – good people who have needs. It’s saved my marriage. Do you know that? It’s saved it.’ She pauses for breath. Oliver hopes she’ll start up again with, Well, anyway, I’d better go now. Thanks a lot and good luck!
    But no.
    ‘So Pete – tell me. Shall we meet again? I work part-time. I could be here Wednesday.’
    ‘I can’t.’
    ‘Home? Wife?’
    ‘Something like that,’ he says.
    ‘You told me your wife isn’t around?’
    ‘That’s right.’
    ‘You just don’t want another relationship?’
    ‘That’s right.’
    ‘Well, nor do I. That suits me. I could do this time next week, then, if you can’t do Wednesday.’
    ‘I’ll check – and I’ll email you.’ He smiles at her. ‘I’ll email you if I can do this time next week.’
    And he hates it that her eyes light up. She no longer looks or sounds like the horny vixen who’d screwed him senseless minutes ago. She looks, now, on the plain side of normal but her eyes don’t sparkle, they have a dullness, a sadness. Everything about her expression points to too much hope at the thought of being able to escape home again this time next week. Her make-up has smudged. Oliver wonders if at some point during sex, she’d wept silently too.
    She’d paid for the room in advance. She won’t take any contribution from him.
    ‘You can pay next time – if you might be able to do this time next week,’ she says. ‘Email me, won’t you – either way.’
    ‘Of course.’
    And he will. That was the beauty of these websites; that’s the etiquette – no embarrassment emailing to say, Actually, it was bloody great but I’m not into seeing the same person more than once. He could be as honest as that. It didn’t matter. There were plenty of other willing one-off