through the layers of their clothing she could feel his arousal. His knees, his thighs, his stomach, she could feel it all as he held her pressed to him, one hand in the small of her back and the other clasping her right buttock as he moved her against him, slowly exciting himself still more.
Fear had frozen her vocal cords but then, as he endeavoured to move her backwards into the shadow of the gable end of a house, she opened her mouth to scream, only for his to clamp down on hers in a wet thrusting kiss that almost covered the lower part of her face. Rosie was fighting in earnest now, her small fists battering the solid wall of his back as she twisted and kicked with all the strength of her slight, slender body, but at eighteen, and after four years in the shipyard, Shane McLinnie had the physique and strength of a man twice his age.
When she tore her mouth from his long enough to emit one desperate strangled scream the hand on her buttocks came across her face to stifle the sound, but her cry seemed to bring him to his senses. ‘Whisht, Rosie lass, it’s all right.’ He was still holding her so close she could feel every inch of him, and the hand on her mouth was forcing her head back until she felt her neck would crack. ‘I’m not goin’ to hurt you, not you. Dinna panic.’
Don’t panic? Rosie could feel the bubbling hysteria and she fought it with all her might, she couldn’t afford to weaken now. But don’t panic, he had said, when she felt he had been eating her alive.
As the hand clamped across her mouth released its pressure Shane said, ‘Now dinna scream, Rosie. Dinna, lass.’
‘Let - go - of me.’ Again she twisted and writhed.
‘Aw, lass, I dinna mean anythin’, not really. Pure as the lily you are, I know that, not like some of ’em hereabouts who’re at it the minute they’re off the breast.’
Pure as the lily? But she had seen what was in his eyes and he hadn’t been going to stop at kissing her, Rosie thought sickly. He had wanted to take her down, she knew it.
‘I’ve got to get home.’ She tried to push against the bulk of him but he wasn’t ready to let her go. ‘Please, Shane.’ Please, dear God, please help me. Please, please . . . And then, as if in answer to that unvoiced prayer, she heard something and said, ‘There’s . . . there’s someone coming, listen.’
They were standing close to the wall of a house without touching it and now, as Rosie saw the portly little man and even portlier little woman emerge out of the thick veil of snowflakes, she wanted to call out to them. But she didn’t dare. Whether it was fear of what Shane might do, or the equally strong fear that the result of such an action would bring her respectability - the importance of which her mother had impressed upon her from when she was knee high - into question, Rosie didn’t know. Whatever, she watched the couple hurry past, her eyes desperate.
And it was only as the white silence surrounded them again - Shane using the momentary distraction to his own advantage as he moulded her firmly against him, fitting her slight body into his with an ease that spoke of practice as he groaned her name before devouring her mouth - that Rosie felt a strength she hadn’t been aware of before flood her limbs. It wasn’t nice, it was dirty - horrible - that thing pressing and prodding against her belly. As the thought hit she pushed savagely at his chest, catching Shane totally unawares and almost sending him sprawling into the gutter. As he staggered back a step or two Rosie was vaguely aware of a dark shape on the perimeter of her vision, but in the next moment as her head swung fully round it was gone. Someone had seen them? Oh no, please don’t let anyone have seen them. And then, as Shane made a move towards her again Rosie hissed, ‘You stay away from me, Shane McLinnie. I mean it.’
She was speaking through her teeth, her eyes fixed on his face through the
Fear had frozen her vocal cords but then, as he endeavoured to move her backwards into the shadow of the gable end of a house, she opened her mouth to scream, only for his to clamp down on hers in a wet thrusting kiss that almost covered the lower part of her face. Rosie was fighting in earnest now, her small fists battering the solid wall of his back as she twisted and kicked with all the strength of her slight, slender body, but at eighteen, and after four years in the shipyard, Shane McLinnie had the physique and strength of a man twice his age.
When she tore her mouth from his long enough to emit one desperate strangled scream the hand on her buttocks came across her face to stifle the sound, but her cry seemed to bring him to his senses. ‘Whisht, Rosie lass, it’s all right.’ He was still holding her so close she could feel every inch of him, and the hand on her mouth was forcing her head back until she felt her neck would crack. ‘I’m not goin’ to hurt you, not you. Dinna panic.’
Don’t panic? Rosie could feel the bubbling hysteria and she fought it with all her might, she couldn’t afford to weaken now. But don’t panic, he had said, when she felt he had been eating her alive.
As the hand clamped across her mouth released its pressure Shane said, ‘Now dinna scream, Rosie. Dinna, lass.’
‘Let - go - of me.’ Again she twisted and writhed.
‘Aw, lass, I dinna mean anythin’, not really. Pure as the lily you are, I know that, not like some of ’em hereabouts who’re at it the minute they’re off the breast.’
Pure as the lily? But she had seen what was in his eyes and he hadn’t been going to stop at kissing her, Rosie thought sickly. He had wanted to take her down, she knew it.
‘I’ve got to get home.’ She tried to push against the bulk of him but he wasn’t ready to let her go. ‘Please, Shane.’ Please, dear God, please help me. Please, please . . . And then, as if in answer to that unvoiced prayer, she heard something and said, ‘There’s . . . there’s someone coming, listen.’
They were standing close to the wall of a house without touching it and now, as Rosie saw the portly little man and even portlier little woman emerge out of the thick veil of snowflakes, she wanted to call out to them. But she didn’t dare. Whether it was fear of what Shane might do, or the equally strong fear that the result of such an action would bring her respectability - the importance of which her mother had impressed upon her from when she was knee high - into question, Rosie didn’t know. Whatever, she watched the couple hurry past, her eyes desperate.
And it was only as the white silence surrounded them again - Shane using the momentary distraction to his own advantage as he moulded her firmly against him, fitting her slight body into his with an ease that spoke of practice as he groaned her name before devouring her mouth - that Rosie felt a strength she hadn’t been aware of before flood her limbs. It wasn’t nice, it was dirty - horrible - that thing pressing and prodding against her belly. As the thought hit she pushed savagely at his chest, catching Shane totally unawares and almost sending him sprawling into the gutter. As he staggered back a step or two Rosie was vaguely aware of a dark shape on the perimeter of her vision, but in the next moment as her head swung fully round it was gone. Someone had seen them? Oh no, please don’t let anyone have seen them. And then, as Shane made a move towards her again Rosie hissed, ‘You stay away from me, Shane McLinnie. I mean it.’
She was speaking through her teeth, her eyes fixed on his face through the
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