bit obsessed with them, actually.
I got up to the bathroom but I didn’t have my period.This had been happening a lot lately, so I rummaged in the cupboard for some tampons (I’d rather risk toxic shock syndrome than wear a pad—see, I don’t have Münchausen syndrome). But as I went to throw away the wrapper, I changed my mind. It seemed different with Hugh here, so I bunched the wrapper in my hand and tossed it in my bedroom bin.
Still I couldn’t sleep.
Roz and her bloody questions.
I hated that stupid game; I wished we’d never played it, wished I’d gone to bed when I intended to as I was never going to get to sleep now, because every time I closed my eyes, I remembered.
Fifteen
His hand was inside my bra and I was still playing, though I don’t know how.
I was still playing and his palms were soft and warm on my skin.
‘God, Alice,’ he breathed, his head burrowing under my hair and kissing my neck. ‘What the hell are you doing to me?’ I didn’t know. I was still playing the bloody tune, chord after chord. I could feel one hand move to my knee and I opened my legs, felt it climbing up, and for a minute I thought I’d wet myself, my panties were soaked. I could see his fingers creeping inside, saw him push my knickers, saw the red flare of my bush and I hated my pubic hair, hated it, but I wasn’t looking at it now. Stunned I looked at where his finger was stroking. I didn’t even know I had a clitoris but there it was—sticking out like a tiny penis—and it was so exquisitely tender. I wanted to push his hand off, it hurt it was so raw, but at the same time I liked it. My bum was sort of shaking on the seat. I could see my knees opening and trembling, but my eyes were on his fingers, watchingwith morbid fascination as he slipped them deep inside me, the palm of his hand now on my clitoris.
‘Stay there.’
I could feel his cock on my back, his other hand wasn’t on my breast now, but I knew where it was, knew he was stroking himself, and I felt sick, excited but sick. For a second I thought of Celeste and knew it was wrong, but then something else took over. I felt it; it was exciting; I felt myself all warm down below, and I didn’t think about Celeste but instead all the girls who had teased me for being a nerd, and how Louise would hate that I’d done it first if she knew.
‘Alice.’ His mouth was off the back of my neck and then he turned me around on the piano stool and I stared at his cock. He was stroking it up and down and I heard the crash of the keys as I leant backward.
‘I won’t put it in.’ He was kneeling right between my legs now, stroking it against me, right against me. There was a trickle of silver running down, and he was making deep, breathy noises. His eyes were all sort of glazed, and all I could think was that I was doing this to him—that he really wanted me, that I must somehow be beautiful. He was right at my entrance now, my knickers the barrier, and he was pushing, stroking against them, just a little way in, and I wanted it all.
‘We mustn’t.’ For a second he stopped, and I thought it must have been something I’d done, that maybe I wasn’t sexy enough, pretty enough, that my boobs weren’t as big as Celeste’s.
I pulled down my knickers.
And he pushed his fingers inside, he was sliding them in and out, and his thumb was on my clitoris. My legswere apart and he was kneeling up. His hands weren’t doing it to me now, instead he was stroking his cock against me, and I wanted it in. I wanted him to take me there, I wanted to watch, I wanted to see it. It was the most scary, beautiful thing. He pulled me down to the floor and I remember bumping my head on the stool. I remember crying out a bit, because it hurt, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t check if I was okay.
We were on the floor—I can remember his legs in between mine, his mouth on my tits, and he bit me so hard I cried out, but he wasn’t listening. I could see his erection
I got up to the bathroom but I didn’t have my period.This had been happening a lot lately, so I rummaged in the cupboard for some tampons (I’d rather risk toxic shock syndrome than wear a pad—see, I don’t have Münchausen syndrome). But as I went to throw away the wrapper, I changed my mind. It seemed different with Hugh here, so I bunched the wrapper in my hand and tossed it in my bedroom bin.
Still I couldn’t sleep.
Roz and her bloody questions.
I hated that stupid game; I wished we’d never played it, wished I’d gone to bed when I intended to as I was never going to get to sleep now, because every time I closed my eyes, I remembered.
Fifteen
His hand was inside my bra and I was still playing, though I don’t know how.
I was still playing and his palms were soft and warm on my skin.
‘God, Alice,’ he breathed, his head burrowing under my hair and kissing my neck. ‘What the hell are you doing to me?’ I didn’t know. I was still playing the bloody tune, chord after chord. I could feel one hand move to my knee and I opened my legs, felt it climbing up, and for a minute I thought I’d wet myself, my panties were soaked. I could see his fingers creeping inside, saw him push my knickers, saw the red flare of my bush and I hated my pubic hair, hated it, but I wasn’t looking at it now. Stunned I looked at where his finger was stroking. I didn’t even know I had a clitoris but there it was—sticking out like a tiny penis—and it was so exquisitely tender. I wanted to push his hand off, it hurt it was so raw, but at the same time I liked it. My bum was sort of shaking on the seat. I could see my knees opening and trembling, but my eyes were on his fingers, watchingwith morbid fascination as he slipped them deep inside me, the palm of his hand now on my clitoris.
‘Stay there.’
I could feel his cock on my back, his other hand wasn’t on my breast now, but I knew where it was, knew he was stroking himself, and I felt sick, excited but sick. For a second I thought of Celeste and knew it was wrong, but then something else took over. I felt it; it was exciting; I felt myself all warm down below, and I didn’t think about Celeste but instead all the girls who had teased me for being a nerd, and how Louise would hate that I’d done it first if she knew.
‘Alice.’ His mouth was off the back of my neck and then he turned me around on the piano stool and I stared at his cock. He was stroking it up and down and I heard the crash of the keys as I leant backward.
‘I won’t put it in.’ He was kneeling right between my legs now, stroking it against me, right against me. There was a trickle of silver running down, and he was making deep, breathy noises. His eyes were all sort of glazed, and all I could think was that I was doing this to him—that he really wanted me, that I must somehow be beautiful. He was right at my entrance now, my knickers the barrier, and he was pushing, stroking against them, just a little way in, and I wanted it all.
‘We mustn’t.’ For a second he stopped, and I thought it must have been something I’d done, that maybe I wasn’t sexy enough, pretty enough, that my boobs weren’t as big as Celeste’s.
I pulled down my knickers.
And he pushed his fingers inside, he was sliding them in and out, and his thumb was on my clitoris. My legswere apart and he was kneeling up. His hands weren’t doing it to me now, instead he was stroking his cock against me, and I wanted it in. I wanted him to take me there, I wanted to watch, I wanted to see it. It was the most scary, beautiful thing. He pulled me down to the floor and I remember bumping my head on the stool. I remember crying out a bit, because it hurt, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t check if I was okay.
We were on the floor—I can remember his legs in between mine, his mouth on my tits, and he bit me so hard I cried out, but he wasn’t listening. I could see his erection
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