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Chapter 25

Clara led him to sit on the bed and switched the light on before she came back to inspect the cut on his forehead.

"Ouch," John hissed as she touched the area around it.

"Sorry," Clara apologized quickly, "Let me just clean it and get a plaster, okay?"

"It's all in the bathroom, behind the mirror," he told her.

Clara nodded and vanished, returning a minute later with some cotton balls, a bottle of antiseptic and a box of plasters.

"Okay, this is probably gonna sting a little. Close your eyes," she told him and he hissed again when she sprayed the antiseptic on his wound. Sting a little was a big understatement.

"Almost done," Clara said in a low, calming voice as she cleaned the cut, ignoring that he flinched under her touch. A few seconds later he felt her place the plaster on it, "There. Good as new."

John opened his eyes to see her smile at him. She raised her hand to his cheek and caressed it softly and John could do nothing but stare at her.

"Promise me you'll let me take care of you," she whispered.

He smiled back at her. "I'm fine, Clara. Really, no need to worry. I've been in fights worse than that."

"Promise me," she insisted.

John cleared his throat. "Alright, I promise."

Clara nodded and her hands found the first button of his shirt and started opening it.

"Wh-what are you doing?" he asked nervously, stammering, suddenly insecure about the way she was touching him.

"I'm gonna take a look at your ribs," she explained and gently pushed his shirt down his shoulders, exposing his chest.

"I told you, nothing's broken," he couldn't help but tremble as Clara went down on her knees in front of him and softly touched the skin around his hurt rib.

"Does it hurt?" she asked innocently as she placed her hands on his thighs and looked up at him.

If Clara was doing this on purpose she was doing a very good job at unsettling him. Her position, her sweet voice, her hands that were slowly digging into the fabric of his trousers – all of that sent his mind racing. He gulped audibly.

"A little," John replied reluctantly, his voice oddly strained.

Clara smiled before she bent forward and placed a kiss on his bruise, her hands wandering further up his thighs. John exhaled sharply, trying to keep his breathing under control. He expected her to stop at that, but instead her mouth moved further up, covering his chest in kisses and John unwillingly leaned back, a moan escaping his throat when one of her hands brushed against his member through the fabric of his trousers.

Suddenly Clara stopped and rose from her position and a moment later she was sitting on his lap, her lips on his throat and her arms slung around his back, she pressed herself mercilessly against his crotch. It was as if all the blood had left his brain at once, along with every remaining coherent thought. God, he wanted her so much.

"Damn you, Clara", he muttered as his hands cupped her head and pulled her up until their lips met, intending to kiss the breath out of her, but it was John who soon found himself panting and in need of air. He paused their kiss, staring right at her.

"Clara-"

Clara's finger replaced her lips in a gentle movement and she shushed him in a low voice.

"Don't talk," she whispered, her own face inches from his, "Just sit back and let me take care of you."

John knew that he was lost when she bent back down, her lips engulfing his in a longing kiss, her tongue brushing ever so delicately over his that he moaned into her mouth. He wanted her so much and he was so ready, his manhood already hardenening and pressing against the fabric of his jeans. He never even stood a chance.

Suddenly Clara rose from his lap and came to a halt in front of him. Reaching for the hemline of her skirt, she pulled her dress up over her head and threw it on the floor. Her hands anchored in her tights and rolled them down, leaving her legs completely bare. Reaching behind her back, Clara swiftly unhooked her bra, sending it tumbling towards the floor to join the rest of her clothing. For a moment she stopped, standing straight, as if she wanted him to see her, admire her like she was. Her hair was wonderfully messy, framing her face and ending in slight curls on her shoulders. Her breasts were small, but beautifully so, melting into her ribcage over her flat tummy that ended with the seam of her white lace knickers that somehow revealed more than they veiled. Clara was perfect, every inch of her was utter perfection in his eyes and John sank from the bed, landing on his knees in front of her. He was completely enthralled by her. Right now she was a queen to him, a miracle, a wonder to be worshipped. Clara giving herself to him was so much more than he could have ever hoped for and he wanted to make her feel everything that he was feeling for her.

John closed his arms around her, his hands coming to rest on the cheeks of her small arse that he pinched gently, causing Clara to giggle. He pressed his face to the centre of her stomach, kissing it. She was so soft, every part of her was soft and he wanted to kiss and caress ever single inch of her skin.

Trailing kisses down her stomach, John stopped only at the waistband of her knickers, hooking his fingers in it, he pulled them down swiftly. As his kisses continued, he could feel Clara shiver beneath his caress and bend her hips to meet him. When his mouth cupped her lips Clara raised her hands to rest on his shoulders and he slid his tongue between her folds that were already wet with want for him. The thought of that and the moan of relief that came from her throat made his cock twitch in anticipation. He was so hard now, so painfully hard, and he was aching to be let inside her. But now was not the time, he reminded himself, as his tongue continued to explore her clit, playfully running along the folds, circling occasionally, dipping the tip into her entrance. Clara gasped whenever he came close to the spot that got her off and pressed herself harder against his face. John tried to map her out with his tongue, tried to remember every movement that made her moan, every spot that he touched that provoked a reaction from her. Soon she was writhing against him wantonly, panting and moaning at the same time, whispering his name like a prayer and he lapped at her, digging his tongue deeper inside until she buried her nails into his shoulders and murmured his name.

"Oh God, John," she panted heavily, moaning in sheer pleasure, "Do that again."

He obliged happily, pushing towards her entrance and burying his tongue in her as deep as he could with Clara countering his moves, pushing her hips against him until he could feel her clench her muscles in climax and her juices came flowing over his tongue. She moaned his name as she came, her legs shaking with the power of her orgasm, and he held her tight to keep her on her feet.

"That was," she paused, still out of breath and pulled him up to face her, "You were. . ."

Clara never finished her sentence because John covered her lips moments later with his own, kissing her deeply, his hands trying to anchor in her hair to keep her close whenever she tried to escape to catch her breath.

John felt himself falling backwards as she pushed him and Clara landed on top of him on the bed, but he didn't want to let go. He wanted to drown in her kiss and never again come back to the surface of reality. Eventually she managed to pull away from him, sitting up, straddling his lap and still panting desperately. She was moving her hips against the hardness beneath his jeans and John moaned in frustration, the friction almost too much to bear. He was out of practice, he wouldn't last if she kept that going. Luckily Clara seemed to have heard his silent plea, as she quickly busied herself with opening his trousers and pulled them, and his pants, down in one movement, revealing his already throbbing erection. She smiled at the sight of it, giving him a mischievous grin before she sat on his lap again. The heat of her wetness was so close it almost drove him wild. He wanted, no, he needed to be inside her. Her hands here scraping over his chest, careful around the ribs that were hurting, but his pain seemed so far away now, as if it had happened in another lifetime. All that mattered was him and her and how much he wanted Clara.

She looked at him and he gulped audibly, mesmerized by her and yet at the same time scared because it had been so, so long. He had almost forgotten how good it felt to be touched by a woman. Clara reached for him with a skilled hand, stroking him gently and John hissed at the contact with her warm fingers that left his skin tingling. It felt so good, so damn good and he wanted her so much that the wait was almost unbearable. Finally she grabbed him at the base, holding him in position before she slowly lowered herself on top of him and he sank into her. As soon as his tip had entered her wet heat, John closed his eyes, and he needed all his self control not to thrust inside her as hard as he could. Clara uttered a small noise that brought him back to reality.

"Are you okay?" his eyes shot open again and he looked at her.

"Yeah," Clara replied breathlessly as she remained still around him.

"Are you sure?" He wanted her to continue, but not if she was in any way uncomfortable.

"Absolutely," she breathed, "Just need to start slowly."

Then she started moving on top of him and John let his head fall back into the pillows, groaning as she was sliding up and down his shaft. He wanted more, so much more. He wanted to take her by the hips and slam her down on his cock, but he tried his best to hold back, leaving it to Clara to direct the rhythm and instead he reached up and found her breasts, cupping and squeezing them gently. They were just as soft as the rest of her under his touch.

"Clara," he muttered her name under his ragged breaths.

He couldn't help it, his body was beginning to refuse control and his hips were moving upwards to meet her, pushing deeper insider her, causing Clara to moan on top of him.

"Sorry," he said immediately, trying to pace himself, but, God, it felt so good, he couldn't stop himself from wanting more.

"No," Clara panted, "Go on. I want. . ." Another moan escaped her lips, deeper now and full of pleasure. "Please, go on."

He thrust up, burying himself in her and he heard her gasp as his hands wandered to her hips and they were slowly picking up pace. John managed to open his eyes for a second, the sight of her on top of him almost pushing him over the edge right away. She was riding him hard, her breasts glistening with sweat and her head was thrown back and forth in their rhythm. Clara's face was flushed, glowing with the exercise. She looked down and their eyes met for a moment. He smiled at her and she smiled back as she continued to drive herself down on him. John's hand slid down her stomach and his thumb found her clit, rubbing and circling in her wetness as coordinated as he could. He tried to focus on her, diverting the attention from his own arousal. He was so close, so damn close to the point of no return, but so was she, writhing on top of him, keening and muttering his name under her breath, he'd be damned if he couldn't drag her with him over the edge. He heard her gasp moments before her muscles clenched and tightened around his member and she drove herself down hard and fervently and it became too much for him to hold back. He thrust up one last time before his movements sagged and he felt his orgasm shoot through him like a shockwave. He groaned loudly as he spilled himself inside of her.

"Clara," he whispered breathlessly as she lifted herself up and sank into the pillow next to him. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, but he couldn't find the voice to say anything at all.

Instead he pulled her in for a sloppy kiss, her lips almost burning on his own.

"Are you okay?" he asked once their lips parted, "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Shush," she said, still panting but smiling at him, "Shut up, okay? I'm fine. More than fine."

Clara took a number of breaths, but ended up laughing. "God, you were amazing!" she exclaimed breathlessly.

"No," John corrected her, looking at her, "You were."