Sexy Hart (Sexy Series) (25 page)

“God, yeah!” Oliver yells, thrusting so hard before flinching slightly and thrusting once again, slightly weaker, his eyes clenched and his teeth gritted as he groans out his words. “Shit, fuck… god! I love my wife!”

I grin as I pant against him, resting my forehead on his shoulder and feeling a huge wave of exhaustion come over me. I feel like I’ve taken a super-fast-working muscle relaxant.

“Oh…” he whines, breathlessly. “You’re so perfect, darling. I can’t wait… to get home… and start again…”

I giggle as I look down and notice my pretty knickers on the floor. I make a mental note
not
to put those back on, I may be having an intimate moment inside one, but aeroplane toilets and their floors are no a place to let your knickers roam free, unless you plan on boiling them in super-thick bleach at least four times before next usage. And it’s not worth putting them in my hand luggage for that.

“Oliver,” I whisper, hating to break this post-coital, come-down stance, “my bum is really hurting up here…”

“Oh, no,” he says, immediately scooping me up by the bottom and carrying me against him, still attached in the most intimate of ways. I instinctively wrap my legs around his bottom and he presses me against the wall.

“That was… wow, out-of -his-world-amazing.”

“I know,” I say, beaming, “I really enjoyed our first time… married.”

“Oh shit, I didn’t think of that. I’m not really showing you a great time, am I? First, adulterous sex in a hospital toilet, then a beating by the ex, then married in some tacky chapel in Vegas with no one we know around - and finally to consummate it in yet another toilet - the smelly toilet of an
aeroplane, no less… bloody hell, Clare, I’m sorry.”

I giggle and wrap my arms tightly around his neck. “No, Oliver, please don’t be. The first toilet - well, it was clean and very,
very
good. The beating is irrelevant now, and as for the rest of it - I love it. It was fun and naughty, and something new for both of us.”

‘It was definitely fun… and as for naughty… well, you dirty little minx…
pussy
?”

I bow my head in embarrassment but finding it funny none-the-less. “I know… it just felt… good.”

“Oh, it was good. Anytime you like, you can speak to me like that again.”

I laugh. “Okay.”

I look around me for a minute, contemplating our next move. “Right, now… we need to separate and I need to… oh, Oliver…”

“What?”

“We didn’t use a condom…”

“Uh… no, we didn’t. Is that a problem for you?” he asks, tentatively.

“Well, no - but I could get pregnant… I don’t think it’s that likely but it’s a possibility. As much as I want a baby, I don’t think we should start trying just yet, at least not until we’re used to being together ourselves and have everything out in the open.”

“I’m with you, darling. If this made you pregnant, then that’s fine and we’ll work with it, but in future, we should be more careful. Agreed?”

“Agreed. Thank you for being so ‘okay’ about that.”

“Of course! I feel exactly the same way as you. And yes, I do want to have a baby with you, as soon as we’re ready.”

A warm, comforting feeling runs through me. Just hearing him say it makes me want to bloom and grow with the life he puts inside me. I don’t want to even contemplate the idea because it’s not what we want just yet, but I can’t help but wonder if there might be a little happy fertilisation going on in there…
No! Snap out of it Clare, deal with the matter at hand.
“Oh yes, back to the subject, you’re definitely about to um… you know… and I’m full of… you know… and where in any normal situation, I would usually run off to the bathroom with a tissue between my legs - I really can’t do that right now. I don’t want you to have to witness this - but I think you’re kinda, gonna, have to.”

He chuckles and kisses my nose. “I know what you’ve got to do, gorgeous girl, don’t worry about me.”

“Okay…” I say, nervously as I lower my legs and he puts me down, slipping out of me, freeing the flow of unpleasantness.

I lift the toilet lid using a tissue, and hover above it so I don’t actually touch the
germ infested unit, and beg Oliver to close his eyes and ears.
Yes, ears… you know what I’m talking about.

I clean up as I force him to face the wall, and he does the same before pulling up his pants and jeans and making himself acceptable to the public. I retrieve my knickers and throw them in the bin.

“You’re not… you’re not actually going to spend the rest of the day with no knickers on, are you?” he asks with a frown.

“Er… yes, I didn’t bring any spares.”

“Oh…” he says, looking somewhat perturbed, which surprises me. “I, er… I don’t think I like that.”

I giggle, teasingly. “No? You don’t like the idea of being able to put your hand up my skirt and touching my bare skin whenever you fancy it?”

“Oh… well, er… I hadn’t actually thought of that,” he says, clearing his throat, “yes, I quite like that idea… but I don’t like the idea of it being easy for anyone else to see what’s under there.”

“Oliver, darling,” I stroke his bicep, “it’s a long skirt. No one will see my fairy.”

“They might; gust of wind, an unexpected trip or fall, you never know and you’re my wife… I don’t want anyone seeing my stuff.” He pouts, quickly adding, “I love that you call it your fairy, though. Very girly.”

“Well, I’m girly and it’s my girly business. But don’t worry too much about people seeing what’s yours. They won’t. And for now, you can sit with me, knowing it’s bright and breezy down there… and only for you.”

“Hmm… Okay. Right, ready to leave?”

“No! You need to look like you’ve been sick, Oliver. Crouch down again and I’ll open the door and ask for some water to make it look believable.”

“Ugh, it was hard enough getting down there the first time, at least I had your moaning and groaning to look forward to - but your plan does sound good. Okay. Here we go.”

He crouches down and slaps my bottom as I unlock the door. I have to ignore it so I’m not laughing as I come face to face with all of the people.
Oh god.. what if they can tell? What if they heard? What if I look like I’ve just had big, brilliant sex?

The steward from before - ‘Jason’ - walks past as I look around me to see who’s about. “Ooh, how is he? It sounded terrible! Hope he’s feeling a bit better now?”
What?

“Oh… um… yes.” Gosh, he’s caught me completely off guard with that ‘sounded terrible’ thing. “Could I have a glass of water for him please?”

“Of course, I’ll bring it straight to you.”

He makes a move to get water and I go back to Oliver to let him know the plan. I think it’s okay, I don’t think anyone was around to know what happened, not that I could have given a shit while we were at it, it’s only now that I’m feeling paranoia setting in, as with all things like this. Naughty things. I can’t believe the cabin
crew thought our sex noises were Oliver chundering! I should probably work on that…

Oliver thanks Jason when he returns with the water, and luckily he vanishes at the speed of lightening, so as not to catch anything, so we return to our seats feeling relieved (physically), naughty and a little smug.

I scold Oliver for making me feel bad for him with a tummy ache, and to be fair to him - I think he does feel a little bad about it, but I can’t be too mad at him, I loved his cheeky little trick and wouldn’t mind terribly if he pulled it again.

After a longer and rather reassuring talk, we comfortably drift off to sleep. It’s not too late - LA time, but we’re both still tired after yesterday and sated after our session in the toilet, so it’s not difficult. It’ll be easier to get our body clocks in sync for the UK this way, too.

We get woken by turbulence and have to sit up to put our belts on, but it doesn’t stop me curling back up next to Oliver, holding his arm and dropping back off into dreamy wonderland.
Cuddling. In public. Such a novelty.

CHAPTER TWELVE

FRIDAY 21ST JUNE

Landing at Heathrow at ten in the morning when it’s two in the morning is LA should be quite hideous, but I’m feeling particularly sprightly, and Oliver seems to be that way, too. Maybe our short sleep helped, or maybe we’re just excited to be heading home. Together.

Heathrow seems on the ball this morning, there’s no queuing at passport control, our bags come through quickly and there are no hold-ups passing through customs. We have barely let go of each other’s hands since we disembarked and it’s… nice. It has been a while since I had a boyfriend, so doing these things with someone again feels so new and exciting. I wonder if I’ll ever get over that with Oliver - even though I may have
fantasised about it for nights on end when I was younger, I never really thought I’d see the day that Oliver and I would date each other properly, let alone get randomly hitched after a drunken birthday proposal before we’d even sampled life as a couple.

Oliver’s car is delivered to arrivals just as we step outside the building, and after signing some paperwork, he is loading our stuff into the boot and I’m climbing in to the big, bad Ollie machine. It’s sexier than I remember. And the added bonus… I can sit in the front because Unstable Stacy is gone for good.
Hoorah!
This is my seat now. It feels weird saying that.

When he climbs into the drivers seat next to me, he turns the engine on, smiles and leans over to give me a kiss. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“I like having you sitting there,” he says, reaching for my hand and squeezing it. “I’m sorry Stacy didn’t even give you the choice on the way here.”

“Don’t be sorry, she was your girlfriend, she was supposed to sit here.”

“Wow,” he says, shaking his head, “a couple of weeks ago… the last time we were in this car, Stacy was my girlfriend. Now we’re back, Stacy’s gone, and you’re my wife!” He rubs his chin, his stubble making that sexy, scratchy noise. “What a result!”

I giggle, quietly. “I’m glad you think so. Now, do you think it would be okay if we agreed to stop talking about her? It’s difficult because she was so recent, but this is a new chapter; our one. I think she should only come into it if it’s one hundred percent relevant.”

“Absolutely, I was about to say something very similar. We’re happy right now and will be for a very long time, and I hope she is, too; that’s all we need to know.”

“Exactly, my husband. You’re right, always.” I smile, angelically before adding quietly and speedily, “Except with your judgement of her. The end,” and I continue with my saintly smile, making him laugh out loud.

He grabs my chin in his fingers and leans towards me until our faces are almost touching. “I adore you. I will smile every day for the rest of my life because of you.”

“Oh, Oliver…” I pause, gathering my wild emotions and keeping them under control because this is important. “I love you.”

“Oh my god,” he says, kissing me gently, his beautiful bottle green eyes locked with mine, “Love me. Love me so hard you don’t think you could squeeze a tiny ounce more out of you. I will always,
always
savour it and cherish it, and most easily - return it. I love you back, Clare, and I’ve loved you back from the very first moment you started loving me - whenever that may have been, because I don’t think I’ve ever not loved you.”

A heavy stream of warm joy runs down my cheek and my chin quivers as I gaze at this man’s handsome face.
This man; my husband. I denied it for so many years, but that love that I first felt for him as a teenager; it has never really gone. It has always been there, hiding away in the attic of my mind, begging for me to free it, or at least even acknowledge it, and finally - I’m able to do that; to let go, to let my heart swell and welcome him in without the crippling fear that he’ll never love me back the way I yearn to be loved.

A knock on the window makes us both jump and Oliver slowly releases my chin, planting one last, soft kiss on my lips before turning to lower his window.

“Move on, no stopping here,” a grumpy looking, jobsworth bellows, waving his arm to signal us away from the loading zone.

“No problem, old boy,” Oliver responds, cheerfully, “I was just loving my wife. Moving on…” and he pulls away from the curb to begin our short journey home.

“So,” he says, happily, “where to? Mine or your’s?”

I smile, excitedly, so looking forward to temporarily living with him. “Well,
your’s is closer to work and a lot more luxurious and roomy, but I need my work clothes and post.”

“Okay, darling, we’ll swing by yours to get your stuff, and then we’ll go to mine.”

“Great. Shall we stop off at Waitrose to get some food in?”

“You forget who my mum is, you know she’ll have filled my fridge for me, just as she does for Bea.”

I smile thinking of Emily and Edward Hart, two of the most loving, well-adjusted and capable people I’ll ever have the fortune of knowing.
Holy shit, they’re my in-laws.
I need to get used to this.
Oh how lucky I am to be one of them, now.
“Oh yeah, you lucky boy. You’d better tell her you’ve broken up with… you-know-who.”