My Clocking In System

The alarm went at half six and Jodie killed it without opening her eyes.

"No," she told the ceiling. "I refuse. I’m not doing it."

Danny made a noise that meant nothing at all.

She lay there a while listening to the flat wake up round her, the radiator ticking its way through the first hot water of the day, a bus grinding past down on the road, somebody’s door going upstairs, and then she rolled over and looked at him.

He was face down with one arm shoved under her pillow, taking up two thirds of a bed he had no legal claim to, and the duvet had worked its way down to his waist in the night.

She could see the marks she’d left on his shoulders on Saturday, still there, going yellow at the edges now.

There was a toothbrush of his in the cup by her sink that had appeared some time on Saturday and that neither of them had mentioned, and she thought about that for a bit, lying in the grey light with her hand under her cheek, and then she thought about something else entirely and put her hand under the duvet instead.

He was already half hard. She wrapped her fist round his cock and just held it, warm and thickening in her hand, and felt him wake up in stages underneath her: first the hand, then where the hand was, then whose it was.

"Christ."

"Morning."

He turned his head on the pillow. She was propped up on an elbow, hair a disaster, extremely awake, looking down at him like a woman who’d been planning something.

"Jodie. What are you doing?"

"I’d have thought that was fairly obvious." She stroked him slowly, root to tip, dragging her thumb over the head on the way, and watched his jaw do something.

"I’ve got nine hours of folding today. Nine, Danny, on a Monday, and I have decided I need something first or I won’t survive it."

"Have you?"

"I have. I’ve thought it through and everything."

She didn’t hurry. That was the thing that undid him, lying there in the half dark with her working him unhurriedly in her fist while the alarm clock counted down toward the second one, her eyes on his face the whole time, cataloguing what landed.

"You’re very hard already."

"I’m always hard in the morning."

"Not like this you’re not. I’ve been sleeping next to it for three days, I’d have noticed." She twisted at the top and he swore at her ceiling. "That’s new. That’s from the hand, that is."

"Jodie."

"Turn over."

He turned over, and she came up onto him, straddling his hips in the t-shirt she’d stolen off him on Saturday, and sat there a moment with her weight settled warm across him and her hands flat on his chest.

"Twenty minutes. That’s the whole budget. I need a shower and I need to eat something and I am not doing that walk to the bus with my legs going again, because Nadia asked me on Friday if I’d hurt myself."

"What did you tell her?"

"I said I’d been running." The t-shirt went off over her head and away somewhere behind her. "She said what, up a hill, and I said yes. Up a hill."

He was still laughing when she leaned down and kissed him, and it stopped being funny about four seconds into it, her mouth open and slow and her hair falling round both their faces, and his hands came up her sides and round onto her tits.

Her nipples went hard against his palms almost straight away in the cold air of that room.

"Mm. That. Do that."

He rolled them between his thumbs and fingers and she made a low noise and pushed her pussy down against him through the duvet.

"Harder."

He did it harder. She gasped and arched into it and said something that wasn’t a word.

"Come here."

She came down onto her forearms above him and he took one nipple into his mouth and sucked, and she shoved her chest into his face and swore.

"Ahh. Yes. Yes, that."

He stayed there a long while, mouth on one and fingers working the other, swapping when she started to squirm, and the whole time she was rocking herself against him with her forehead down against his and her breath breaking every time he pulled hard.

"You’re very awake now," she managed.

"You woke me up with your hand round my cock."

"I did do that. Deliberately." She kissed him again, badly, mostly teeth. "I’ve been lying there twelve minutes thinking about it and getting increasingly annoyed about how asleep you were."

He slid a hand down between them and found her drenched, hot and slick right through, and dragged two fingers up the length of her pussy and onto her clit, and she stopped talking.

"Oh."

"Twelve minutes, was it."

"Shut up." Her hips had started going against his hand without any input from her at all. "Shut up and keep doing that."

So he kept doing that, slow circles on her clit while she knelt over him with her head down and her hair hanging, and he felt the exact moment her thighs began to shake.

"No. No, stop, I don’t want it like that, I want you in me, I’ve been thinking about it for twelve minutes and I’m not having it off your hand."

She reached back and took hold of him, lifted, put the head of his cock where she wanted it, and held herself there with him barely inside her. For a second neither of them breathed.

"Right," she said, and sank down onto him in one long slow drop, all the way, and her mouth came open and every last bit of the cleverness went out of her face. "Ohhhh. God. God."

He put his hands on her hips and held on and didn’t move, because she hadn’t. She sat there with him buried to the root in her cunt, eyes shut, breathing through her mouth.

"All right?"

"Mm. Give me a second. It’s a lot first thing." She shifted her weight, testing it, and made a broken noise. "Ah. Christ."

"Jodie."

"Don’t be nice to me, I’ll cry, I’m very emotional in the mornings." She opened her eyes, looked down at him, and grinned. "Right. There."

Then she started to move, slow at first, rolling down onto him with her hands braced on his chest, taking him deep and coming back up unhurried while she found the angle she wanted.

Danny lay in a woman’s bed on a Monday morning with grey light coming through a cheap curtain and watched Jodie Carter ride his cock at twenty to seven, and thought that no other room he had access to in the entire city was worth one minute of this one.

Her tits moved with every drop. He watched them, and she caught him at it, because she caught him at it every time.

"You always look at them."