Claire stood in the corner of Rupert’s basement with Louise and Geillie as they watched the boys play a round of pool. Louise and Geillie opted to stay with Claire, rather than run off with their boyfriends. They were worried about her. She had told them both about what she saw in the hallway and both of them sat with her for several hours Friday after school as she cried and ranted. They tried to reassure her that Laoghaire was being her trashy self and that Jamie was likely innocent. In fact, Geillis had it on good word that Jamie had been trying to get Laoghaire off of him and that she was putting on a show all because Claire was watching.
Claire just wouldn’t hear it.
Claire had confiscated a bottle of whisky and sat in the corner, surrounded by Geillie and Louise who were casting worried glances at her. Geillis kept feeding her bits of food and Louise made her drink a glass of water to counteract all the alcohol.
Claire stood, “I’ll be back. I have to pee.”
Claire walked to the far side of the basement and shut the bathroom door, locking it behind her. She emptied her bladder (she knew what Geillie and Louise were up to, and she was thankful she had such good friends to take care of her), then washed her hands and leaned over the sink and splashed some water on her face, then toweled it off. She could hear voices raised and the commotion became significantly louder. Several more party-goers had apparently arrived.
Taking a deep, somewhat cleansing breath, Claire opened the door. And saw red.
Standing at the back of the hallway was Jamie with his back to the wall, his palms to the wall. In front of him was Laoghaire, plastered to him, kissing him.
His eyes were open. They widened slightly when he caught sight of Claire.
She willed her feet to walk away. So that’s how he wanted to play this, eh? Well. Two can play this game.
Jamie was shooting daggers at her from across the room. Good.
Her laugh was a little too loud as she reacted to some stupid joke Phillip Wylie told her as he flirted with her. She leaned into Phillip a bit as she laughed and he promptly snaked his arm around her and grinned at her wolfishly.
Claire was well and truly drunk by this point. She would never have given Phillip Wylie the time of day, otherwise. But he was here...and Jamie hated him...and well…
To her alcohol-saturated mind, it just made sense.
But Claire was still alert enough to know that Laoghaire was making a total move on Jamie. By this point, she was sitting on his lap in the opposite corner and was kissing him, but this time Jamie wasn’t pushing her away. Claire’s temperature rose in direct correlation with her temper. This time, it was not a question. Jamie was participating in the kiss.
Abruptly, Claire rose on unsteady feet and pulled Phillip up by the hand. She said, a little too loudly, “C’mon Phillip. Let’s you and I go find somewhere a little less crowded.” She saw Jamie pull away from Laoghaire’s attentions out of the corner of her eye and saw that he was watching, his jaw dropped and a look of murder in his eyes.
Good, she thought. Serves him right.
She was debating with herself about the wisdom of having invited Phillip Wylie to go to a less crowded place with her. He was currently like an eight-armed octopus, hands everywhere, his lips too wet on her face and neck.
She had drunk just enough alcohol that she almost felt slow and uncoordinated. As she swatted away his hands, she reached air instead. How could he move so fast?!
“Stahhhppp, Phillip...I don’t wanna…,” she said as he smashed his mouth to hers again.
Before she could even react, she heard the door bang open against the wall and felt Phillip being pulled away from her. She blinked her eyes several times, trying to focus on what was happening.
“Get out of here before I kill ye!” The voice was deadly quiet.
Oh. She knew that voice. That was just Jamie...her head rolled back against the wall. She was getting a bit drowsy now.
She jumped as she heard banging around and blinked her eyes again. Then the door slammed shut.
“Claire? Are ye alright? Claire?”
Oh...was that Jamie again? She thought he’d left. She frowned.
She swatted the hand that was on her cheek. “Yesss, I’m fine. Go ‘way.”
“I swear if that motherfucking bastard laid a hand on ye, I’ll…”
And then she remembered. Laoghaire. Shit. How could she forget that?
“Oh, you mean like that...that...Leghair had her hands all over you and her tongue shoved down your throat, eh? Like that?” She moved her hands all over Jamie’s body, mimicking what she’d had to endure.
“Did you like it when she kissed you, Jamie?” She was quickly coming out of her near drunken stupor.
“No! Did you like it when that shite-faced Wylie was pawin’ ye? And slobbering all over ye?”
“What if I did?”
“YE NEVER DID!”
“I DID!” She stood up and grabbed for the wall as she got a bit dizzy. Jamie launched himself at her then.
“Do ye ken what that did tae me, then? DO YE?! Do ye ken how it tore me up inside as he was touchin’ ye...feelin’ what’s MINE?!”
“I’m not yours!”
He roared, “YE ARE MINE! Ye’ve always been mine! Mine and no one else’s!” He shook her then, almost like a ragdoll. “Mine and only mine forever!”
He pushed her against the wall and kissed her.
Pulling away by tilting her head to the side sharply, she reached up and slapped him in the face.
They stood there looking at each other, chests heaving.
As one, they launched at each other. He kissed her savagely, breathing raggedly through their noses as their hands tore at each other’s clothes. They stripped each other bare, too lust-filled and angry to care about anything else, where they were, or the boundaries that they had strictly observed thus far with each other.
Jamie lifted Claire up against the wall and put his lips to her nipple and sucked hard. He’d never done that before and it enflamed Claire like she’d never been turned on before. She felt his hard cock throbbing between her legs and she rocked against it like before, but this time it was skin against skin. She leaned her head back against the wall and moaned as Jamie rocked with her.
“Christ, Claire, I need ye! Please, please say ye’ll have me!”
She was drunk alright. Drunk on him. She needed…
“Claire...ye need tae say it...I cannae...oh god...please say…”
And he turned with her and laid her on the bed, then crawled up between her legs. He took his cock in his hand and pumped it a few times, then centered himself at her warm, wet opening. “Tell me it’s okay...we can stop if ye dinnae want to, but once I’m inside ye, I dinnae think I can.”
“Do it. Nowww,” she whispered, breathing raggedly.
He eased inside her and she gasped, whimpering. Then he took a breath and plunged in, breaking through the membrane that he had so carefully preserved previously.
Claire let out a thready, almost pained moan. He held himself still for a minute, his forehead resting on hers, his arms shaking with holding back, as they both got used to each other.
When she nodded at him, he slid slowly out and back in, not exactly sure what to do, but going purely on instinct now. He leaned down and kissed her again, the fumes from the whisky they had consumed mingling, dulling all their senses except for where they were joined.
She was so tight and felt so good. He knew he wouldn’t ( couldn’t ) last long. He thrust inside her one more time. And then he meant to pull out. He really did.
Except he wasn’t prepared for the grip of Claire’s muscles on his cock as she tightened around him and pulsed. She came on a silent scream. And he joined her.
They tumbled right over the edge together.
It didn’t hit them until later as they lay together, breathing returning to normal, that they hadn’t used birth control.
But it was only once.