Viridian Tears (15 page)

“Ha!” Winston’s grin grew even wider. “You got a hankering for a little loving, girl? Got a hankering for the well-oiled muscle machine that is Winston the-one-and-only Campbell? That explains why you felt the need to come and thank me personally for the help with the Angel of Death.”

“That’s not why I came and you know it. I’m quite self-sufficient in that area, thank you very much.” She looked at the boiling kettle and back to Winston, trying to decide which was the more pressing need. “It’s not like there’s anywhere here we could, anyway. Not that I’ve said I want to.”

“Where’s there’s a need there’s always a way.” He walked past her to the car he’d been working on and opened the back door. “Your carriage awaits, madame.”

“You’re kidding me. The back seat of a car? What are we, teenagers?”

He looked around the garage. “There’s not really anywhere else without getting oil stains on your knickers. I mean, I’m up for that if you want.”

“No.” Meinwen screwed her face up at the idea. “I really don’t think so.”

“Shame I haven’t got that hearse in yet. There would have been plenty of room.”

“I don’t think I could do it in a hearse.”

“Well I’m running out of options here.” The kettle boiled and clicked off. “Or we could just have another cup of tea if you prefer.”

“It would be churlish not to after going to the trouble of washing out the cups.”

“Churlish, yeah.” He took a final look at the back seat and closed the door. “Not what I’d call it, mind.”

“Wait.”

“Changed your mind?”

“If you go and wash your hands, yeah. Touch me with those and I’ll get contact cystitis.”

“Your wish is my command.” He grinned and climbed out of his overalls. The shirt beneath was mostly clean, if one didn’t look too closely at the cuffs or collar. “Make yourself comfortable and I’ll be right back.”

Meinwen inspected the back seat. At least the car was new enough for it to be upholstered in something other than vinyl. She tried sitting upright. Sideways. Lying on her back with the legs out of the door. Nothing was comfortable. She hadn’t had sex in the back of a car since Dafydd Thomas took her to the cinema in Aberystwyth in his dad’s Cortina. That night was the reason he bought his first van.

She heard the water stop in the bathroom and climbed out again. It didn’t feel right to do it in the back of a car, particularly someone else’s car.

Winston came out of the bathroom bare-chested, drying his hands and arms on his shirt. It was no surprise he wasn’t celibate. It would be such a waste. He looked at her, his eyebrows raised. “Changed your mind?”

“I had until about three seconds ago.” She moved forward and ran her hand down his arms, the muscles solid beneath his fingertips. “Now I really, really want to.” She lifted her hands up to his head and pulled him forward and down, crushing her lips against his. It took him a moment to react before he leaned into her, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth, his hot breath filling her lungs as they shared the air between them. One of his hands pressed into the small of her back, pulling her pelvis to his so she could feel the long hard length of his cock against her thigh while the other lifted her skirt, following the curve of her leg and over the band of her Marks and Spenser’s sensibles, then down again into the warm, wet embrace of her cunt. She widened her stance to accommodate his hand, two of his fingers slipping inside her while the ball of his thumb pressed against her clitoris. She gasped, clenching her muscles and gripping his fingers.

He walked her backward until she was pressed against the car, his fingers working her until she was quivering with the need to release. She pushed her hands between them and fumbled with his belt and the catch and zip of his jeans, pushing them down over his arse and using her thumbs to catch his boxer shorts and drag them down as well.

“Wait.” He pulled back from her. “In my back pocket.”

“What?” She caught his jeans before they fell to his ankles.

“Johnnies. We need to use one.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not about trust. It’s about not being stupid. You don’t know my history and I don’t know yours.”

“God. Why do men have to be so sensible?”

He laughed, a low chuckle against her ear as he took the packet and opened it. “I think that’s the first time in history a bloke has ever been accused of that.” He ripped open the packet with his teeth and applied the condom in one fluid motion.

With his dick bouncing, he walked her sideways until she was against the bonnet and slid her backward over the wing, supporting her with his left hand while he used his right to pull her knickers off then guide his cock inside her.

She gave a little squeak as he entered, gasping silently through her open mouth. She wrapped her legs around his waist and used the leverage to get his further in, thanking the gods for all the Kegel exercises over the years..

“Fuck me, girl, you’ve got some serious moves on you.”

“Fuck you?” Meinwen grinned into the soft curls above his ear. “I thought you were fucking me.”

Winston’s breath came in a series of short pants. “I’m not so sure who’s fucking who any more.”

“Does it even matter?” Meinwen found his nipple and he gave a yelp as his buttocks tightened beneath her fingernails.

Chapter 15

“That was pretty good” Meinwen grinned at Winston over the cup of tea they hadn’t had an hour ago. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Pretty good? Admit it. That was the best you’ve ever had.” Winston winked. “Today, anyway.” He added sugar to his cup and took a sip. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“All the way at one point.” Meinwen laughed, looking up and down his chest. “Why do you keep that covered? You could have the pick of any woman you took your shirt off for.”

“Superpowers should be used sparingly.” He retrieved his overalls and climbed into them shutting away his magnificent chest. “So what now?”

Meinwen searched for a clock on the wall, couldn’t find one and fished in her handbag for her phone. It took her a few moments to find. “Look at the time. It’s ten o’clock. How did it get to be ten o’clock?”

Winston pointed to the car. “The bonnet, the boot, the back seat, the front seat…”

“Very funny.” She took a larger swig of her tea. “I’ve got to go. I was supposed to scan in my drawings for the
Myths of Laverstone
book tonight but it’s already after my bedtime.”

“I’ll give you a lift.” Winston put down his mug and pulled his coat from the hook by the door. “Somehow I’m not in the right frame of mind to finish the brake system of that car. What drawings, anyway? I didn’t know you were an artist.”

“Only self-taught. I needed an illustrator for some of my booklets and couldn’t afford to pay a proper one. I started doing my own, though I look at
Standing Stones of Wiltshire
, the first one I illustrated and cringe.”

“I do a bit of drawing, as it happens.” He crossed to a bank of switches and started turning lights off. “Went to art college once, though not for long because once dad was gone there was no-one earning a wage in the house. Mum did her best but with Lettie in college…”

“The burden fell to you.” Meinwen linked arms with him as they left the garage and paused while he locked up. He led her down the short, mud bath of a drive and across to his car. He opened her door first and waited while she got in before he went to the driver’s side and climbed in himself.

“Pretty much. I ended up as a lathe operator until Jim went to work at Magelight and I got made redundant. I still keep my hand in from time to time but not as often as I used to. The garage takes everything I’ve got these days.” He switched on the engine, then cupped his hands and blew into them. “Give her a minute to warm up.”

“You should show me your drawings. I bet they’re better than mine. If you were willing to barter I could print them in my books and pamphlets. Perhaps even sell the originals in the shop. For a small commission.”

“Sure. Sounds good.” He pulled off and turned into Wood Street, heading east toward Meinwen’s house. They could see the spire of St. Pity’s lit up in the distance.

Meinwen sat on her hands to warm them. “Thanks for the lift. It’s appreciated.”

“You’re welcome. I was going home anyway so it’s no bother. Besides, I think it’s my fault you ran out of energy.”

“Partly your fault.” Meinwen smiled in the darkness.

They had to pause at the end of Wood Street while two police cars roared past their lights flashing. “Somebody’s late for their tea.”

“They’d best not let Inspector White catch them doing that speed. He’d scream blue murder.”

“Perhaps there’s a fire somewhere, or a crash on the M4.” He pulled away again and moments later was turning into Meinwen’s own road. “Here you go. Thanks for tonight. It was fun.”

“Do you want to come in? You said you had nothing to go home to.”

“Unless there’s a spider in the bath waiting to be rescued.” Winston grinned. “Sure, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it is. You can even share my lentil bake.”

“Ooh, not so sure.” Winston held out a wavering hand. “Lentils and me don’t go together too well if you know what I mean.”

“Right. I’ve got some eggs.”

“Yeah, cool.” He switched off the engine. “Will the car be all right here?”

“I don’t see why not. The road’s a dead end so unless there’s a big funeral tomorrow you’ll be fine. It’s not double yellows.”

“Good.” He switched off the engine.

Meinwen unbuckled her seat belt and reached to open the door.

“Wait.”

Winston’s voice made Meinwen pause, the car door already open and one hand still on the handle. “What?”

“I want you to have this.” Winston reached to open the glove box and took something out. He pressed it into her hand.

Meinwen looked down. It was a key, a heavy one designed to fit a mortice lock. “Is this to your house?”

“No, the garage.” Winston grinned. “It’s in case you get caught short again and I’m not there.”

“That’s good of you, Winston. Thanks.”

“I want you to have it.” He closed her fingers over it. “It doesn’t entitle you to free services or anything, but you are allowed to make tea and do the washing up.”

“Gee, thanks.” She leaned across to give him a peck on the cheek. “You say the nicest things.”

“I know.” Winston looked out of the windscreen. “Now let’s get inside. It’s freezing out here.”

“That’s November for you.” Meinwen climbed out and hurried toward her cottage, not waiting for Winston. He’d catch up if he didn’t break his neck on the path. Solar lights were all well and good in the summer but in the winter there wasn’t enough sunlight to charge them. She wondered if she knew anyone who’d make her a wind generator.

She left the door ajar while she went into the kitchen to put the kettle and the oven on. At least the house was warm. She’d left early this morning to open the shop early, and then had been on multiple errands since. Winston came in and closed the door.

“This is nice. Cozy.”

“Thanks.” Meinwen smiled at him through the kitchen doorway. She’d never seen a door in it, but the frame was there. “I didn’t realize you’d never been here. I’ve known you years.”

“Four, I think.” She could hear him moving about in the sitting room. “How’s your fella?”

“Who?” She came to the doorway.

“The ice-cream man.” He held up a photograph of her and Dafydd on the Cardiff Eye.

“Dafydd? He’s not my fella. We just have an understanding.”

“Yeah, I know how that goes.”

Meinwen left him looking around and concentrated on making tea and putting something to eat on the table. She knew there was a reason she’d bought milk and eggs yesterday when she hardly ever ate dairy. It must have been a sign she’d be having a guest. She put some rye bread under the grill and put some eggs on to soft boil. She made the tea and took him a cup, adding a couple of individual packets of sugar she’d taken from the café on the park. It wasn’t stealing when they’d already given them to you, was it? He was in her study, a tiny annex off the sitting room which had the docking station for her laptop and her bookshelves.