She's tight and she's wet and he can't focus on anything but the way her pupils, black and round, are fixed on him, watching him, pleading with him. He's not going to last much longer if she carries on, her hips grinding down onto his cock, her tits bouncing, nipples erect, breathing ragged, her creamy skin dotted with red and purple bruises, a visible hand mark imprinted on her cheek.
This wasn't anything special, it didn't need to be, they both knew that, this wasn't like all the other times. she'd only wanted him to hit her once, wake her up from the nightmare she was in but now they were here, in the drivers seat of his beat up old car and he's fucking her like his life depended on it, his fingers digging deeply into her waist, nails drawing blood.
Her constant pounding down onto his cock was becoming sloppy and he knew she was close, he always knew she was close. His fingers reached up towards her face, pulling her down towards his lips but she couldn't kiss him, it wasn't like that, it would never be like that again. He recoiled in ecstasy and lust when her hand slapped him hard round the face, his eyes sparkling with adrenaline focused intently on how her lips curled up into a grin at the action she just pulled.
He grips hold of the handle on the roof as he pounds into her quicker and more precise than before, edging himself towards his release.
She's clinging onto the back of the head rest now as he still watches her face. Watches as tears fall from her eyes, sprinkling down onto her breasts and onto his chest, watches as her mouth opens up in a strangled mix of moans and sobs and his other hand reaches up to her cheeks, wiping away stray tears. He knew why she was crying, they both knew. He wasn't her love - she may have been his but that didn't matter to her, she had no feelings.
He can feel the need building up now, his balls have tightened and they both know its gonna happen, his hands have dropped to her tits now, kneading into them and her hands have moved to the back of his head, pulling him closer to her, he feels it before she does, thick, creamy loads of cum shooting into her, over and over as his relentless pounding turns slower, his cock sitting in her as her pussy grips around the head of his cock, his lust filled eyes watching her as she finds her clit, rubbing along it, his cock still in her.
Her lips are parted, eyeliner smudged all round her eyes and down her face where her tears had been falling, her hair falling down her face wet with sweat and he's fixated on her expert hands playing with her own folds, brushing against the base of his cock occasionally making him jerk up and suck his breath in and before he can catch his breath she's there, her orgasm rolling through her, her thighs are shaking and she's visibly shuddering, the force of it causing his dick to twitch inside her.
Her face is beautiful as her orgasm draws to a close and she lifts up, removing herself from his dick and leaning over to the passenger seat for her dress, slipping it over her body and reaching for the cigarettes on the dashboard. He sniggers quietly as he pulls his jeans back up before plucking a cigarette from the packet she's offering him.
They sit in silence now, only the jagged breathing from each can be heard. Neither have looked at each other, not daring to make this any more intimate then it already was. They both stare out over the hill, the lights and hum of Bristol's busy nightlife echoing beneath them.
The silence is broken when she digs around in her jacket pocket, pulling out a small bag of cocaine and a rolled note. He's alert now, eyes attached to the actions she's making. Her fingers are moving quickly, slicing into the cocaine she's now poured on the dashboard with a piece of plastic, splitting the pile into neat little lines. She turns to him, her eyes hooded, eyeliner still smudged and gestures with her hands at it and then to him. He nods eagerly, leaning over as he pulls the rolled note from her hands. She breathes in sharply as he leans further over her, his chest now brushing against her thighs.
He drags the note across one of the lines and she exhales at the site of the cocaine disappearing up his nose. When he's finished, she snatches the note from him and lifts herself up onto her knees for easier access to the drugs, he's still draped across her, his fingertips are dancing patterns into her inner thighs, his tongue is sticking out watching intently. She quickly snorts the powder, completing two lines in quick succession and throws her head back, her teeth are biting into her lips, eyes half closed. The silence in the car deafening as each person prepares for their high.
It happens so quickly and takes him by surprise, he doesn't know how to react. She's throwing herself on him, grabbing his face between her small hands, lips crashing down onto his. He's not sure how to respond, his brain is in overdrive and all he can think about is her lips are finally on his and she's finally reciprocating towards his feelings and then he focuses and is appalled and hurt. He knows her game, he knows she does this deliberately.
He throws her off and her back hits the car door, her face is painted with a devilish grin, her eyes glassy, almost glazed over. She's not there, mentally and emotionally and they both know it. He's leaning back away from her, panting breathlessly as she still observes him, the grin on her face. She's as high as a kite, soaring through the sky, riding through.
He clears his throat and lights another cigarette before finally speaking up. His voice is hoarse and mouth dry.
'You're a headfuck Eff, a fucking headfuck'
She's smirking now, the smirk she always does when she's being mysterious. The smirk she does when she doesn't give a shit. The smirk she does when she's busy ripping his heart out piece by piece. It's a dangerous smirk, a smirk that shouldn't be trusted.
'Yet you keep running back to me Cook' She throws her head back and laughs. A witchy, high pitched, manic laugh. 'Can't stay away you fucking prick, can you?'
Effy blinks rapidly at him as he shrugs before she swings her legs round so she is sat upright. Her hands scrabble around for a cigarette. She lights it and breathes in before exhaling deeply, the smoke swirling around in patterns above her. She's in her own world again, on a slow comedown from her high. Cook knows he doesn't matter to her, he knows he's fucking shit. He knows the only person she loves is Freddie. He also knows she's afraid of how much Freddie loves her and that's why she comes running to him every time to feel absolutely nothing. He's being used and he fucking knows it. And even though he knows all this, he still prays for hope, still silently begs she wants and needs him in the same way he wants and needs her.
His thoughts are broken by her hand reaching for his, grabbing it and squeezing. He smiles at her lazily, his head leaning against the head rest. Her eyes are shining. Cook leans forwards and kisses the top of her forehead, whispering in her hair.
'It’s you and me, babe. It’s always gonna be you and me. It’s always you and me'
And in that moment, it really was just James Cook and Effy Stonem. Nobody else matters to them. They're both fucked up people, in a fucked up world with a fucked up relationship and whilst it might not be enough for him, it was more than enough for her.