Never Really Over

Chapter 41

"John?"

He is heading back down the corridor in the direction of the lift, seeing the room numbers get smaller with every step he takes, wondering which of the staff or team mates are behind each door. He is yet to hear the clunk of Beth's door as it closes behind her, instead he hears her voice.

He turns to look at her, her hair is still held tightly in the pony tail she was wearing when he first saw her earlier today, all of her hair pulled back from her face so he can see just how beautiful she is. Her nose is a little shiny, the warm weather tarnishing her usually flawlessly made-up face, once again she has gone to a great effort to make it look as though she isn't wearing any make up, but the eyeliner she has used to make her eye look huge gives her away, along with her false lashes that every time he looks at, he imagines fluttering against his skin.

"It's boring being good."

There's a glint in her eye and she's biting softly on her bottom lip, his own lips twitch into a smile that she mirrors, and she doesn't have to say another word before he is striding back up the corridor towards her.

*

"I've wanted to do this all day," John groans as the door clicks shut and he pushes his body against Beth's, pressing her against the wall of the hotel suite that is identical to his. He bites down on the lip Beth was doing exactly the same to only moments before, tugging it gently until she groans unhappily.

"Kiss me you dickhead." She is forever in charge. He leans in close enough that she can feel his heavy breaths tickle her lips as his own linger achingly close.

"Like this?!" He presses his soft lips to hers, slowly and gently, three times in a row, lingering a little longer each time. By the second kiss, he is grinding his pelvis against hers, his thumbs are pressing into the dip of her hip, holding her right where he wants her. The third kiss, he feels her hands tugging lightly on his hair, letting him know she doesn't want him to go anywhere either.

"More like this..." She presses a hand to his cheek; his skin is smoother than she is used to these days, not a bit of stubble in sight. He doesn't flinch out of the way as her thumb skims across a spot that is newly forming because he has no insecurities around her. She loved him before he even knew who he really was. Her lips part his more and more with every kiss and when their tongues meet she feels a bulge starting to form in his joggers.

"Don't start something you're not going to finish," he says warningly, he feels uncomfortably hot, like his blood is boiling, but through desire, not anger. He pulls his t-shirt off, casting it aside onto the floor where several similar ones already lie, Beth has been here for almost a week and is doing a terrible job of leaving her dirty laundry out to be cleaned.

"I'm gonna finish it." She vows.

He leans a hand against the wall, stroking his finger against the textured wallpaper, already imaging fucking her against it, will it leave marks on her back!? His other hand runs up her waist, making her shudder, tentatively he traces the shape of a breast through her t-shirt, "Are they still sore?"

"A bit," she admits.

"Do you want me to stop?" He can feel the lace of her bra through the shiny material of her t-shirt and underneath her nipple hardens as he circles the areola around it.

"No," her breathing is quickening. "Feels good." He turns his attention to the other nipple, she is writhing against the wall in pleasure, but she hasn't forgotten him, her palm rubbing against the erection straining against his joggers.

His lips graze the skin right next to her ear lobe. "You're wearing lace, probably black. It's push up even though you don't need it. Your knickers match." They always do.