Absence Maes the Heart Grow Fonder

Author's note: This is the third and final part of Laura and Richard's story. If you haven't read

Part 1

and 2, you should probably start there.

Special thanks to

Bad_Hobbit

for editing and giving me the confidence to publish this. Like Richard, he's not as grumpy as he appears. Any remaining factual or writing errors are my own and I am always grateful for your feedback.

Chapter 3

Laura

"I don't want to hurt you," Richard had said.

I could barely hide my irritation. I'd gone out on a limb because it seemed like he might be up for it -- trust me, that wasn't just a hug, it was him copping a feel with his chest -- and now he'd decided he had cold feet.

"Hurt me? How would you hurt me?"

"I don't get involved with work people. I don't do relationships. I like you, and you deserve to be with someone better. Someone who can take care of you."

"Look, I'm not proposing bloody marriage. If we spend the night together and that's all, that's fine. I thought we were getting along, and playing with a partner would make a nice change, that's all." My attempt at light-heartedness didn't seem to be helping. "Look, I know I put my foot in it before, and I'm sorry if I'm making it worse. But can't you tell me what's bothering you?"

"Doesn't matter. I don't think you'd understand."

"Try me."

"Fine. My ex. We were splitting up, and I..." He sighed defeatedly as though he'd made his point. "I can't let myself get like that again."

I spoke softly. "So you hurt someone before, and you're worried you'd do it again?" He nodded. "Do you mean emotionally, like you said things you can't take back, or...?"

He swallowed and couldn't look at me. Maybe not just emotionally, then. Fuck.

But he didn't look threatening, he just looked tired and sad.

I knew I had to ask, and I asked as calmly as I could. "You were violent?"

"Almost. I thought about it."

He was still looking down, but I kept my gaze on him. "Often?"

"Just once. But I really wanted to..." His hands tensed and he spoke through clenched teeth. "I wanted to kill her. I almost... I could've..." His throat heaved as though he was trying not to vomit.

"What did you actually do?"

His eyes met mine, deep wells of misery. "I spent the longest minute of my life wanting to strangle her. I didn't, but God knows what stopped me."

"And had she hurt you? Emotionally, I mean."

There was a long silence.

"Yes." So quiet I could barely hear him. "She'd met someone else. Been fucking him for a while. Bullshit reasons. Money. Stuff. Like we meant nothing. And after she told me all that... I won't say 'made love' because it wasn't. It was horrible. And afterwards I just... something snapped. It scared me. It still scares me."

I put my arms around him again and rubbed his back while his chest heaved with suppressed sobs. I held him as I whispered that we should be judged on actions, not on angry thoughts at the worst times of our lives. That I believed he was a good person. That I trusted him.

We were quiet for a few moments and eventually he pulled away and looked at me. He still looked tired and sad, and somehow resigned.

"Thank you, Laura. Although, five minutes ago I would've said you had good judgement, and now I'm not so sure." He waited for me to put some distance between us again.

"I'm not giving up on you. It sounds like you should stop punishing yourself."

He closed his eyes for a long moment but didn't show any sign of agreeing with me.

"Richard, can I ask you something? Tonight, when I saw you in the park, why did you run?"

He puffed his cheeks and blew out a breath. "Two things. I'd spent the day up to my neck in Alan Bloody Williams' misdemeanours and I felt horrible. Just... grubby." He grimaced. "I went out for a walk to clear my head and nearly fell over that girl lying on the path. If there'd been anyone else around, I wouldn't have got involved. A creepy older guy trying to 'take care of' some drunk teenager? I knew what it would look like, especially with all that shit fresh in my mind. I just wanted to get her to the road and make sure the ambulance found her. I didn't want to get involved."

"Well, I think you're an idiot, but I suppose that makes sense. You said two things?"

He paused and a blush glowed in his cheeks. "This is going to sound really stupid, but... I recognised your voice and I panicked. I didn't want you to think badly of me."

A full-on belly laugh bubbled out of me. "You really are an idiot. You could've just explained." I took hold of both his hands and looked into his adorable face.

"It's too late for any more of this bollocks. I think you're hot, and I'm pretty sure you think the same about me." He nodded. "We're both single." Nod. "And if you suddenly turn into the Hulk, well, I can defend myself by smacking you in the face." I flexed my non-existent biceps and his face crumpled into a grin. "Seriously, stop over-analysing. If you can come up with a good reason why I shouldn't kiss you, say so and I'll kip on your sofa and never speak of this again. But you've only got until I count to ten."

We looked at each other while I counted in my head. He looked unsure, worried, then irritable, and finally shrugged, broke into a stunning broad smile, muttered "Ah, fuck it" and leaned in to kiss me.

***

He was tentative at first, gentle and warm with a slight aromatic scent of whisky. He pulled back for a moment and looked into my eyes, as though he wanted to check it was still me. Then we were kissing again, with more urgency, beginning to explore each other with our hands.

"Sit here." I patted the sofa next to me. He shifted across and I swung my thigh over so I was straddling his lap, and we both let out a sigh as I settled onto him. I pulled off the oversized top and jumper I was wearing, dumped them next to me and tugged upwards on his shirt. He helped me remove it and revealed his naked chest: not as muscular as in my fantasy, and with a covering of dark, curly hair. I wouldn't ever have said hairy chests were my thing, but there was a hint of the young Sean Connery about his, and the soft curls were deeply, sensually masculine.

He looked at me hungrily then grabbed my arse with both hands and pulled me into him, pushing an increasingly obvious bulge in his jeans up against me. His head dipped down and he began to trail kisses across the tops of my breasts and into my cleavage. I peeled off my bra and arched my back to bring my breasts to his lips, and he began to worship my nipples.

His hands were caressing my waist and back, his mouth working magic on my tits, and I was shamelessly grinding against the firmness in his jeans. I let out a long 'mmmm' of pleasure and he answered the same way. Then he guided me onto my back and started taking off my jeans. I think he nearly laughed out loud at the snoopy cartoon on the front of my knickers, but all he did was raise that eyebrow at me, in a gesture that could have meant 'Snoopy?' but also could have meant 'Can I take these off and use my mouth and fingers to make you come?' Whatever the question, the answer was yes.

Dr Richard Wielechowski can't have spent

all

his time in the lab, as he clearly knew his way around the female body. He nuzzled kisses into some sensitive places around the tops of my thighs and hips, then progressed to licking me in long, teasing strokes: almost, but not quite up to my clit. I was sighing with almost every breath and it was taking all my self-control not to beg.

I think he knew that. I think he wanted me to beg.

Finally I cracked. "Please."

"Please what?" He wasn't going to help me out.

"Mmmmm."

I wanted to tell him for God's sake to suck my clit and make me come. But I couldn't. I couldn't even grab his head and guide him to the place that was aching for his attention. Somehow I knew that it would be better just to let him get on with it.

I looked down and saw him smile wolfishly as he read my mind. The bastard.

I dropped my head back and focused my attention on the feelings of pleasure coursing through my core. Then he answered my prayers and the next stroke of his tongue went all the way, pausing and circling and torturing my clit. When I started to whimper with pleasure, he slid a finger inside me, and then a second, and screwed me slowly and firmly with his fingers while he licked and sucked me to a heart-stopping orgasm.

I came really, really hard. I cried out at what felt like the top of my voice: I had no control over it, and my back arched and my body shook in spasms that were beyond anything that could ever be faked. As the aftershocks dissipated, he tenderly kissed my belly and rested his head against me, and I closed my eyes and let out a long, low moan of gratitude and satisfaction.

Richard

Laura in the throes of orgasm was one of the hottest things I had ever witnessed. She was out of control, shuddering like her body was going to break into pieces, and I felt like the luckiest man in the world to have helped her get there. I reckoned she'd probably be too tired to do anything else, and to be honest, despite being fucking rock hard I would've been content to cuddle up with her 'til morning. But she sat up with her hair all tousled, kissed me, and started unbuttoning my jeans. I practically jumped out of my seat and ripped them and my boxers off.

She pushed me back onto the sofa. And knelt down between my legs. Oh, fuck.

"Is this okay?"

"Are you fucking joking? Fuck, Laura, I want you so much..." my voice trailed off into a groan as she started to lick the head of my cock.

She went about that blow job the same way she went about every fucking thing else she did: patient, thorough, and devastatingly effective. She explored my cock like it was delicious and fascinating and she had to taste every millimetre of skin. Before long she had as much length into her mouth as she could comfortably take, maintaining a steady rhythm and gentle suction while massaging the underside with her tongue and not dribbling all over my sofa. Not that I would have given a shit about that. It felt awesome.

"Wait," I whispered. She slowed down and raised an eyebrow at me. "Do you want..." I didn't know how to ask without sounding like I was expecting it, and she'd probably think it was a bit soon.

She released my cock from her lips with a little sucking sound.

"Are you asking whether we should fuck?"

Oh sweet Jesus. All I could do was nod.

"In the morning..." She licked the length of me from root to tip. "You can fuck the living daylights out of me..." A delicate swirl of her tongue around the head. "But it's been a long day, so right now...." A long, firm suck that made me gasp. "I'm gonna keep sucking your cock until you fill my mouth with your cum."

I'm pretty sure at this point my mouth was hanging open. The physical sensations were magnified by the idea of plunging my cock into her beautiful, tight cunt; holding her in my arms and feeling her respond to my touch; pounding her hard and maybe making her come with me inside her.

I reached out tentatively to rake my fingers into her hair, and I felt her smile. Then she pushed her mouth down onto me a little further and moved a little faster. I never wanted it to end, but I couldn't resist the surges of pleasure she was launching through me.

"I'm gonna come soon."

Her answer was maybe the sexiest sound I had ever heard, a deep groan of satisfaction that rolled over me like a wave. She looked up at me again, her eyes shining with something I thought I'd never see again: a mingling of affection and generosity and desire that shook me to the core. I gave in to the orgasm as she took me as deep as she could, while I groaned and emptied myself into her throat in a series of fierce jerks. She swallowed the lot, and licked the last remnants of cum from her lips and my cock while I stared at her and tried to work out whether I'd dreamed the whole thing. I couldn't hold a thought in my head, other than blank amazement that this wonderful woman had given me pleasure I would never be able to describe.

"Does that offer of your bed still stand?"

Eventually I found my voice. "Yes, as long as you still want to share. And you'd better call me Ricky."

She looked amused. "Ricky?"

"People..." I remembered I don't really have friends. "My family call me Ricky."

"Let's go to bed, Ricky."

***

I woke in a panic, trying to work out why I was in my own bed with a warm body next to me, in the darkness before dawn. My stomach lurched as I wondered if I'd fucked up and brought a girl back to mine, and then the fog of sleep started to lift and I remembered about Laura. My body was spooned tightly around hers, my arm holding her close and my nose buried in her hair.

Just like before, I was anxious about what was going to happen when she woke up.

Unlike before, the anxiety was a weird mix of final exam terror and Christmas morning excitement. I didn't know what was going to happen next, but it felt important. It wasn't just a casual thing, although I wanted to possess her beautiful body, find out all the things she liked and give her as much pleasure as I could.

But then what?

She believed I was a good person. She trusted me.

I could begin to imagine a future that wasn't lonely. I could imagine Laura sitting on the sofa with me, and walking in the park with me, and sleeping next to me. I could ask for her advice, and support her as she fought for the recognition she deserved at work. I could ask about her hopes and dreams, and share mine with her.

I could risk being hurt again.

She had finally shown me what I'd really been hiding from. I wasn't afraid of what I might do to Laura: she was fucking bombproof. She'd survive anything I could possibly throw at her. I was terrified of what she could do to me.

The alternative was to push her away and just exist, climbing the slippery ladder of academic distinction to the polite applause and secret contempt of sad wankers like me. What would you choose? To live in heaven, knowing that any moment you could be cast out into hell? Or to spend your days in one of those shit ex-industrial towns with no decent pubs and nothing to do at the weekend?

She stirred and I held her a little tighter as she made soft waking-up noises. I think she knew I was awake, but we were quiet for a long time.

I kissed the back of Laura's neck softly, peeled myself away from her and got out of bed.

Who was I kidding? I'd fallen for her weeks ago, months ago, maybe since the first time I met her. Of course I would risk everything to be with her.

When I got back from the bathroom she took her turn, and I heard her skooshing mouthwash like I'd done. We did deep, minty kisses and within seconds I was hard again. I burrowed under the covers and buried my face in her pussy, and rejoiced at the muffled sighs as I licked and sucked and built her arousal. She shifted her hips away from me and tugged at my ear. I crawled back up the bed, looked into her beautiful brown eyes and waited for her to tell me what she wanted.

"Do you have condoms? I mean, if you want to..."

I was glad she didn't say "fuck". It didn't seem like the right word any more, although I didn't dare think of any other words in case I accidentally said something that I really shouldn't be saying after one night together.

"Yes." I mumbled. "As long as you want to."

"I do. Really quite a lot." Her smile was such a turn-on. I reached for the top drawer of the bedside table.

Cocks don't generally get harder while putting condoms on. At best, they stay hard. At worst, well.

The exception turned out to be when someone else puts one on for you. Laura beat me to the drawer and her beautiful, delicate hands unwrapped one like she was making an educational film. She held my cock firmly while she rolled it on with smooth, capable strokes and I reckon I gained an extra half inch. She was biting her lower lip in concentration, and looking at my cock with a sort of hungry expression and I was so fucking hard I could've hung two full bags of shopping on it. I almost groaned out loud. I didn't, because I didn't want to give her the impression I was about to blow my load as soon as I got inside her. Honestly, though, I was a bit worried I might. Fucking hell.

Then she asked if it would be okay if she went on top.

Laura

Despite my big talk on the sofa, I hadn't assumed that we'd carry on in the morning, but I was so glad he hadn't come to his senses during the night. I dealt with the health and safety precautions, then straddled him and started rubbed my dripping slit up and down his cock. His eyes were serious and I saw that he wanted it just as much as I did, and maybe something more. He was just the right size: he wasn't going to hurt me if it got rough, but I was soon stretched around him full and tight, just the right side of discomfort. I rested my weight on his hips so he was as deep as he could be, and then rocked lightly back and forth. He let out a ragged sigh and pulled me down so he could kiss me.

After a little while of gentle rocking and ardent kissing, I needed more. I began to ride him more urgently, the friction on my clit working its magic. Combined with the aching fullness and the intensity of his gaze, I felt tell-tale stirrings and moaned with enjoyment. He brought his hands up to my breasts, and I arched my back as he began to stroke my nipples.

"Harder. Pinch them, please."

"Like this?"

"Oh fuck yes. Keep doing that. Oh oh oh yes, oh fuck, don't stop."

"Oh my God, Laura. You look so fucking hot. Come for me, Laura, come on my cock."

I braced my hand against the wall by his head as I fucked him as hard as I could, grinding my clit into him as he pinched and twisted my nipples into an agony of pleasure. I cried out as I finally fell over the edge and slammed my hips down onto his, bucking against his body with all of my strength as waves of ecstasy engulfed me.

I collapsed onto his chest, and he stroked my back and kissed the side of my head as the tremors subsided. I tried to push myself back upright, but my limbs were like lead.

I giggled helplessly. "I don't think I can move."

"Let me." He clasped an arm tightly around my hips and rolled us over like a pro, still inside me.

"Laura. You are fucking amazing. I can't..."

He trailed off, tenderly smoothing my hair off my face and kissing me on the lips. Like a Jane Austen kiss, almost chaste but full of meaning. And not really that chaste, because I was still sopping wet and stretched around his gorgeous cock. He began moving inside me, long, languorous strokes, pulling almost the whole way out before filling me again. I breathed him in, admiring how supporting his bodyweight on his arms made his muscles pop, and raking my fingers through the dark tangle of hair on his chest

He sat back, reached down for my ankles and shifted them gently, one by one, over his shoulders. "Is this ok? Comfortable?"

The deeper penetration felt amazing. I couldn't have told you whether my legs were aching; I'd been utterly consumed by this avalanche of desire and gratification.

"Mmmmm. Feels good." Saying 'good' was like calling the Mona Lisa 'a decent picture' or the Taj Mahal 'a nice building', but he seemed to get that. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled and continued the deep, steady rhythm of his hips. It was heaven. I didn't know how I'd managed it but, somehow, ordinary little me had ended up in bed with the actual object of my fantasies.

After a while his movements became more urgent and his eyes lost focus as he neared his own climax. He began to thrust harder, bringing gasps of pleasure from me again as he slammed his hips into mine.