‘Let’s go to bed, Rob,’ she urged. ‘What if the others come back?’
It was a sound suggestion. Rob and Ruth spent the rest of the afternoon in Ruth’s made bed in her tidy room, fucking as if it might go out of fashion. They pitched and tossed and plunged and thrust until dusk fell, then they ate something, then they went back to bed.
Ruth couldn’t seem to get enough of him; she recovered from one bout only to scoot down the bed and take his detumescent cock in her mouth to revive it for another. He seemed to empty himself only to refill again immediately, ready for more. He had her underneath him, above him, beside him, on all fours, in every imaginable configuration of limbs. He had her until her skin shone like pearls and her hair was slick at the roots. He had her until her stubble burn threatened to bleed, as much on her thighs as her face. He made her come five times, or it might have been six, and every time she thanked him sweetly, which made him feel like a king.
The last time, her cries of ecstatic torment coincided with a ring of the doorbell.
‘Oh God,’ he muttered, lying entangled in Ruth, kissing her all around her mouth while it sighed out its last few seconds of bliss.
‘Leave it.’ The words were hard won, as all her breath seemed spent.
He left it. But the ringing became more insistent, accompanied by knocking. Rob wished he hadn’t left the bedroom light on.
Eventually the letterbox was raised and a familiar voice boomed around the downstairs hall.
‘Ruthie, it’s me. I know you’re there. Let us in, eh?’
‘Shit. Dave!’ She sat straight up, looking wildly around for clothes, hairbrushes, anything.
‘Stay there,’ said Rob, putting one leg out of bed, making calculations at a rapid pace.
‘Don’t let him in! He’ll know!’
‘Well, shouldn’t he?’ Rob, on his feet now, ran a hand through drenched hair and gave Ruth a penetrating stare.
‘Are you going to tell him?’
‘I think you should. Don’t you?’
‘Oh God, I don’t want to.’
‘Ruth, you can’t string him along. I’m not going to lie either.’
‘I don’t want to string him along, just, bloody hell, I’m knackered and I want to go to sleep.’
Rob pulled the duvet off the bed and threw on his jeans and top.
‘You can’t shirk your responsibilities,’ he said severely. ‘I thought we’d dealt with that?’
Ruth drew in a sharp breath and bit her lip, instantly chastened.
Rob smiled at the effect he had on her, then went to get the door.
‘Oh, you’re in,’ said Dave, eyeing him up and down with undisguised suspicion.
Rob supposed he must look very much like a man who had spent the last few hours shagging. Perhaps this would be enough for Dave to put two and two together.
‘Ruth’s upstairs,’ he said.
Dave had nothing more to say to him, and he charged up the stairs, calling Ruth’s name.
Rob, bracing himself for impact, wandered into the kitchen to put the kettle on. The lino was cold on his bare feet and all the sweat was cooling, making him shiver. Tea, then bath, he thought. Then bed. He shut his eyes and leant back on the counter, thinking of all the pleasures of the afternoon and evening.
Above his head, the thunder of footsteps. He didn’t think Dave had ever shown a tendency to violence, but perhaps he should go and check.
By the time he’d mad
e his tea, raised voices filtered down the stairs. It must be pretty obvious what Ruth had been up to all day. The rumpled sheets, the binned condoms, the smell of sex in the air.