There, under the shade of the plane tree, he kept at her with a jackhammer pace, tightening her stomach until she was ready to let go again and surge into orgasm. But he made sure he kept her on that edge for as long as he wanted, pumping backwards and forwards until their skins were sheened with sweat and her bottom stung more than ever. The sting made it all brighter and fiercer and more intense, though, when her climax was finally allowed to burst through.
She plucked two handfuls of clover from the grass, the remnants clinging to her palms.
Jason’s breathing took on a quality she recognised, a chaotic, laboured sound that meant he was close to his own moment of ecstasy. She pushed back against him, tightening her muscles to squeeze every iota of orgasm out of him.
He gripped her shoulder and thrust madly, in a kind of seizure, then fell on top of her, slack with the effort of it all.
‘God,’ he slurred, after a moment. ‘S’too hot for all this. Think we should get a drink.’
She gloried in the way the kitchen bench made her skin feel raw and tender when she sat to drain her glass of water. Jason kissed her ear and asked if she’d rather stand, or get a cushion.
‘You’re a brute,’ she said, but dreamily, happily.
‘Only for you,’ he said, getting up for another glassful.
‘I feel special.’ She laughed, a punctured, exhausted laugh, then her phone rang.
‘Ah, dunno who that is,’ she said, disliking this encroachment on their kinky version of domestic bliss. ‘Better check.’
She went out to the hall where her bag hung with the phone inside.
Oh God. It was Mia.
Casting a guilty glance back at the kitchen, she hurried into the drawing room and shut the door behind her. She hadn’t expected to hear from her until well into the evening. The landlord had been wrong when he’d said she wouldn’t surface until six.
‘Hello, Jenna Myatt.’
‘It is you. Fuck me, thought Tommy was having me on.’
‘Sorry, is this …?’
‘Mia. Mia Tarbuck. You came to the pub earlier? About the karaoke?’
Her voice was soft and a little bit fluffy, like a Bledburn Marilyn Monroe.
‘That’s right. I’m after some quotes. Thinking of hiring one for the Gala.’
‘What Gala?’
‘The Bledburn Gala. I want to get it going again.’
‘Oh, so cool. I wish they hadn’t stopped having those. I was too young to go to any.’ There was a sound, of gruff voices, in the background. ‘Shut up, Nicker. I’m talking. Sorry. Annoying flatmates, don’t you hate them?’
This made Jenna’s hackles rise on behalf of the flatmate they had shared – Jason.
‘I don’t have any, so I can’t really comment,’ she said.
‘No, of course, you’re all on your own at the Hall. Doesn’t it get lonely there? I mean, it’s a bit creepy. Haunted and all that.’
‘No ghosts, so far,’ said Jenna briskly, though her thoughts returned to the knocking noises and the message underneath the wallpaper. ‘Listen, can we meet and discuss quotes? I don’t like doing business over the phone.’
‘Well, I can email you,’ the girl said doubtfully.
‘No, I like face-to-face. Where can we meet? Tomorrow, preferably?’
‘I could come to you, at the Hall.’
‘No, best not. Do you know Sanderson’s, on Mill Street? I’ll buy you lunch.’