#ally sutton

Here you go Anon. Sorry it took so long.

You and Cath had been out to dinner at one of your favourite restaurants. You’d driven her home, walking her up to her door, been invited for coffee. You’d sat on the sofa, watching her make the coffee in the kitchen. She’d placed both mugs on the table then kissed you with such need you were surprised you didn’t combust on the spot.

You’d pulled her on top of you, wanting to feel her weight in your lap. Her hands were buried in your hair while yours were working their way up the back of her shirt, wanting to feel every inch of skin possible. She was burning you up from the inside.

You slid your hands down, cupping her ass, pulling her closer to you. She trialed her lips down your neck, her teeth scraping against the sensitive skin under your jaw. You tipped your head back, letting her have access to your body. Your fingers were digging into her ass, kneading the flesh in your hands.

She slid her hands down, one of her hands kneading your breast. You moaned into her mouth, unable to believe this woman was really yours.

You’d been dating her for a few months now, meeting when you’d come in with a dislocated shoulder. You’d wanted to take things slowly, having just come out of a bad break up and with her daughter she hadn’t been ready to jump feet first into anything. But you couldn’t deny the fact that you wanted her like you were a horny teenager.

Her thumb brushed over your nipple, your back arching into her touch. She kissed you again, tugging on your lower lip. You gasped, letting her consume you. You ran your hands back up her spine, pulling her shirt with your hands. You pulled it over her head, flinging it to the side.

She lent back, looking down at you. You traced your finger up her stomach, watching as the muscles clenched under your touch. You gently cupped her breast, your thumb passing over her nipple. She bit down her lip, watching as the awe passed over your face.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” you breathed, raising your eyes to meet hers.

She kissed you again, this time slower, sweeter, full of emotion. You curled your arms around her, ready to fall into her.

She ran her hands up your legs, pulling your dress up with her. You shifted down your body, pressing kisses to exposed skin as she went. You reached behind your back, unzipping your dress. You lifted your hips and pulled it over your head.

She looked at you, her eyes roving over your body. You felt the urge to cover yourself, your arms itching to curl around your body. You linked her hands with yours, pinning them above your head as if reading your thoughts. You blinked up at her, watching her smile.

She kissed you again, her fingers drawing meaningless patterns on your newly exposed skin. You could feel electricity running over your skin, running straight to your core. You needed her, now.

She kissed down your chest, taking your nipple into her mouth through the material of your bra. You arched into her mouth, your fingers tightening around hers.

She let you go, trailing her kisses down your body until they hit the waistband of your knickers. You tangled your hands in her hair, watching as she ran her teeth over the skin of your abdomen. You reached down, tugging on the waistband of her jeans. She got up, pulling them from her legs. She reached behind her back, unclipping her bra and letting it fall from the floor.

You gulped, looking at the naked flesh. You wanted to kiss every inch of it. You pulled your own bra from your body, throwing it over the back of the couch. She swooped down on you, kissing you again. You let your fingers trail over her spine, causing shivers to run through her body.

She ripped your knickers from your body, her finger running through your folds. Your hips jerked up into her touch, needing more than the featherlight touch she was teasing you with. She chuckled, sucking on your pulse point as she swirled her finger over your clit. You gasped, feeling too much.

She pressed her thumb down on your bundle of nerves, her finger sliding within you. Your hips bucked up into her touch. She slid another finger into you, curling them within you. You flung your head back, burying your face in a pillow. You couldn’t stop the whimper as she ground against your sensitive nub.

Your fingers clutched her shoulders as you moved against her. She was running her lips over your exposed skin, teeth scraping, tongue soothing. You whined, no longer feeling into control of your own body.

You came with a gasp, your internal walls clenching around her fingers. She smiled against your chest, riding you through your orgasm. Your body turned to jelly as she removed her fingers from you.

You pulled her into a kiss, running your fingers through her hair. She was smiling. She pulled you up from the sofa with her clean hand, licking your juices from the other one. You watched her, feeling the heat grow in your stomach again.

“Come on,” she said, “Molly is with the sitter until tomorrow morning.”

Here you go, Anon. I hope you like it.

You were sitting on the side of the bed, waiting for your mother to be brought back from where the doctors had taken her. She’d been bleeding heavily and her arm was at an odd angle. Just looking at it had made you want to be sick.

You were ignoring the throbbing pain in your stomach, more worried about your mother than yourself. You were sure it was nothing more than some bruising from the impact. You bruised like a ripe peach.

You looked up at the sound of an English voice. A blonde woman was talking with one of the nurses. You glanced away, annoyed at the flush rising in your cheeks that just the view of such a beautiful woman caused. You glanced over again, ignoring the buzzing phone in your hands. She was looking at you this time, her brow furrowed and her mouth set in a harsh line.

You looked down at the phone, unable to ignore it any longer. Your father and your friends were demanding answers from you. You couldn’t give them the answers they were looking for. No one had told you anything about your mother yet.

“Have you been checked over?”

You looked up, fumbling with your phone. It fell to the floor with a clatter. You bent at the waist as the English woman crouched to pick it up for you. You winced, sitting back. She handed you the phone which you took with a grateful smile.

“I’m fine,” you said, “have you heard anything about my mum?”

“I’m afraid not,” she said, “may I?”

You nodded at her, not sure what it was she was asking. You weren’t sure you would be able to deny her anything. She looked at you so intensely, her eyes darting over your face.

She brought her hand up, pressing against your stomach. You hissed, flinching back from her touch. Her brow furrowed and she reached out to you again. She pulled your shirt up, looking at the deep purple mark marring your skin. You looked down, shocked that it was on your body.

“It was a car accident, wasn’t it?” she said, looking up at you.

“Yeah,” you said, tracing a finger over your skin. It didn’t look real.

She pressed her hand to your abdomen, just under your ribs. She pressed down again, the pain little more than it was before.

“Can you turn for me?” she asked.

You did so, turning to face the room. She lifted your shirt again, listening to your breathing. She ran her hand down your spine, her fingers cold against your skin. You shivered. She apologised, pressing down on different parts of your back. Nothing hurt, nothing caused an increase of pain. She pulled your shirt down again.

“I would say it’s no more than a bad bruise,” she said with a smile, “nothing to worry about.”

“Do you know what they’re doing with my mother?” you asked, turning to look at her.

“I’m afraid I don’t,” she said, “I could ask someone for you.”

“Would you?” you asked perking up, “only, my father is asking and I can’t tell him anything.”

She gave you a soft smile and turned away, calling to one of the nurses. She lent her hip against the bed beside you. You blushed again, looking away to watch the nurse walk over.

“What’s up Ally?” the nurse asked, giving you a cursory smile.

“Can you find out what’s happened to,” she lent over to look at the chart at the end of the bed, “Mrs (Y/L/N)?”

“Of course,” the nurse said, turning away.

“I’m going to get you some ice,” she said to you.

You watched her walk away, trying to cool the heat in your cheeks. Now was not the time to be thinking of such things. You had your mother to worry about.

When she returned she pulled your shirt up, pressing the cool package to your stomach. You pressed your hand to it, shocked by the chill. Your hand was against hers, trapping it. You blushed and moved your hand, holding the ice pack to yourself so she could move away. She gave you another kind smile as she stepped back.

“That should stop the blood flowing to your bruise. When you get home you should rest, no strenuous activity,” she said, “take some painkillers to help and take it easy.”

“I will as long as my mother doesn’t need me to take care of her,” you said.

Her eyes softened and she chuckled. She wrote something down on the chart in her hands, her eyes darting up to look at you. You bit your lip, trying to push down the blush threatening to rise again. You’d only just gotten the last one under control.

“If you insist on doing anything please make sure you have a heat pack on hand,” she said, “or I’ll see you back here before the week is out.”

“Would that be a bad thing?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

“Only for your health and wellbeing,” she replied with that smile that was blinding you to sense.

You let the silence fall between you, unable to form so much as a sentence. You fiddled with your phone, reading all the messages from your father. He was panicking as was his wont to do. You sighed, trying to reassure him with the little information you had.

“I’m sure your mother is going to be okay,” Ally said, “we’re very good at what we do here. You seem close.”

You looked up at her, giving her a perfunctory smile, but until you knew more the anxiety clutching at your heart would not abate.

“We are,” you said, “she’s my best friend.”

“I hope my daughter thinks that when she’s your age,” she said, pulling the ice pack away to assess the damage. She pressed it back and you couldn’t help the wince at the pressure.

“You have a daughter?” you asked, “how old is she?”

“She’s still little,” she said, “it feel as if it was only yesterday she was a newborn.”

“My mother says the same thing,” you said with a laugh.

“I think that’s her now,” she said, looking over your shoulder.

You looked over. Your mother was leaning on the shoulder of one of the nurses, the one Ally had sent off to bring back information. She was limping, her arm in a cast, a long gash on her head stitched up. Gauze covered her arms and you could tell she was in pain.

You jumped off the bed, flinging the ice pack down. You hurried over to her, taking over as her crutch. You settled her on the bed, turning towards the nurse.

“Is she okay?” you asked.

“A broken arm, a few cuts and bruises, some stitches,” she replied.

You let out a long sigh. You were worried there’d be something internal that would be wrong. You couldn’t even imagine your mother going in for surgery. Your father would have kittens if that had been the verdict. He still might from looking at her.

“I’m fine,” your mother said, “are you okay?”

You heard Ally chuckle. You blushed again, thinking back on the exact same answer you’d given when you’d been asked.

“Just some bruises,” you replied, “are we free to go?”

“You’re mother will have to come back in about a week for a check up but for now you’re all free,” the nurse said.