They Won't Believe You (Scottish Dark Romance Book 1)

by Paisley Alice Quinn

  After Kylie went back to her room, Craig brought up the pictures on his laptop. He knew he shouldn’t, but something had compelled him to download them, and now he couldn’t stop staring at them with a mixture of rage and arousal. He couldn’t believe this was Kylie. His Kylie. The pictures were so explicit, giving him a perfect view of her glistening pussy. In every single picture she was bending over, as if that were her natural position. It was almost as if she was inviting him to take her.

  He formed a fist. A dark, dangerous part of him wanted to drag her up here and make her bend over the desk like that for him. He imagined pulling her legs apart and delving into that sweet pussy. He wanted to make her moan with pleasure as he plunged in and out of her. He wanted her to twist around and look at him, like she was doing in the pictures, and beg him for more. He had thought she was so sweet and innocent but now he saw her differently. Those eyes were passionate. Those eyes demanded sex.

  His arousal was growing stronger. He pulled the zipper down on his trousers and eased out his cock. He felt guilty as he rubbed it urgently, unable to hold it in anymore. He shot his load over the computer screen, drenching her image with his seed. But it wasn’t enough, he wanted to spread it all over her body, and he wanted to have her taste it, marking her as his.

  Feeling deeply ashamed, he cleaned off the screen with a wet wipe. He shouldn’t be getting off like this. What had happened to Kylie was appalling. No one should be looking at these pictures, least of all him. He drew in a breath. He had already waited a year to see her naked and he didn’t want to wait any more. He had been so afraid to spoil her innocence, but her innocence had already been taken. It was time to claim her as his own.

  19

  Kylie awoke with a thick head caused by the residue of flea spray in the air. Dexter was at the window, his long tongue hanging down as he watched Sinister tiptoe across the balcony rail. She was showing off again, demonstrating how incredible agile she was, her silky-smooth fur glowing against the pink and yellow sunrise.

  Kylie got up and planted her feet in her slippers and padded across the floor to brew some tea. It tasted funny, she thought. As if the water was stale. It was still too hot out too, even at this early hour. She went to the toilet and sat down. Instantly, she felt a familiar sensation. She looked down and saw a tiny black speck. She grabbed it and carried it to the sink, then ran the taps until she hoped it had drowned.

  She checked Dexter’s fur with the comb, but he was clean. Where were they coming from? She placed a piece of white paper on the floor in front of her. Within a few seconds, a flea had hopped on to it. She squashed it brutally with her finger. She walked around the flat, placing the sheet of paper in front of her wherever she went. There was a hot spot by the kitchen sink, and another one by the mattress. She screwed up the paper in frustration. She was going to have to clean the place from top to bottom again.

  Her early morning cleaning frenzy made her late for work, but luckily Muriel was in a meeting. She whizzed around, shelving the books like crazy, careful not to catch anyone’s eye.

  Lachlan continued to be nice to her. A bit too nice, actually. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. She returned to her desk after a busy morning of shelf stacking and found him hanging about.

  “Lachlan. What can I do for you?”

  “You going to eat lunch?”

  “It has been known.”

  “I was thinking of trying that new Mexican place, the one on the corner. Ainsley’s up for it. And Shona.”

  She snorted. “That place has been there since I was a wee bairn. How are you only just finding it now?”

  He reached out, and for a moment she thought he was going to touch her breast. Then his hand went lower and he plucked a piece of lint from her jumper.

  “Is it any good then?”

  “Sometimes. Depends who’s cooking.”

  He edged closer. “Do you want to risk it?”

  “Sorry, I can’t. Not today.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He looked almost boyish, the way he was begging her to come.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, looking him right in the eyes. “I really do have a lot of work.”

  “Right.”

  He looked disappointed, and a little bit pissed. Maybe he still thought she owed him that blowjob.

  “A word of warning,” she said. “I would avoid the bean soup.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with it?”

  “Nothing, I just don’t like the smell is all, or the way it lingers on your clothing for days after you’ve eaten it.”

  “Thank you. I’ll bear that in mind.”

  She watched as her colleagues trooped out to lunch. Lachlan had done well on the charm offensive. Even Muriel was venturing out. She hoped he hadn’t done all that on her account. She waited until she was absolutely sure they’d all gone, then she went to her desk and turned on her computer. She typed in the password. Then she typed her name into Google. Then… nothing.

  She couldn’t believe it. It was gone. Completely gone. She clicked through the pages, but they were all about other Kylies. Not one of them was about her. She leaned back in her seat and burst out laughing. It wasn’t there, it was gone. She didn’t know how it had happened, but it made her so incredibly, wonderfully happy.

  Marc was walking past on his way to the printer.

  “It’s gone!” she burst out.

  “That’s what I was trying to tell you!” He couldn’t keep the smile from his lips. “When I found the site, I was so angry on your behalf that I contacted the webmaster and got him to take it down.”

  “But I tried that, and they ignored me!”

  “Ah, I thought that might happen, so I told them you were underage. That seemed to speed things along.”

  She threw her arms around him and hugged him. She still felt uncomfortable, breathing in his unfamiliar scent. But she was so incredibly grateful.

  “I could just kiss you!” she cried, and he blushed so red she thought he was going to turn into a beetroot.

  “Now, I must warn you, there may still be copies out there, but I will go from page to page, contacting people and demanding they take it down.”

  She felt tears prick in her eyes. “God, Marc. I don’t know what to say. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

  She leant forward and hugged him again, and when she released him, his ears were as red as roses.

  “You deserve better,” he muttered as he turned and walked away.

  “I’m collecting for Muriel’s birthday,” Ainsley said, after lunch. “Rumour has it it’s going to be a big one.”

  Kylie raised an eyebrow. “Like, how big?”

  “Dunno, Shona puts her at fifty, but Marc reckons she’s much older, like retirement age.”

  Kylie raised an eyebrow. “Wow, do you think she’s going to retire?”

  Ainsley shook her head vigorously. “No, never. The likes of her go on and on.”

  Kylie rummaged through her purse and came up with fifty pence in change.

  “You’re the last of the big spenders, aren’t you?” Ainsley said in amusement.

  Kylie merely shrugged and turned back to her computer. It was alright for her in her angora cardie. Some people had to pay their own way.

  “What should I get her?” Ainsley asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe something with a frog on it?”

  “Does she like frogs then?”

  “Have you not noticed her computer?”

  Ainsley gave him a blank stare.

  “Come on,” Marc said. “Follow me.”

  Kylie continued with her work. She knew without looking that the wallpaper on Muriel’s computer was filled with frogs. There were frogs on the tissue box on her desk and a framed picture of a frog resting on her favourite box file. And if after all that, anyone was still in any doubt, they only had to wait until the sandwich van came and then Muriel would trundle off clutching her large patterned purse which featured yet more frogs.
She smiled to herself as she thought of it. If only everyone was so easy to figure out.

  There was no sign of Craig that day. A part of her was disappointed. She’d got used to him popping up in the library. She’d liked seeing him, even as she’d wondered why he was really there. She dared to think he wanted to see her. But she was under no illusions as to the temporary nature of his interest.

  Perhaps he’d seen the pictures and was now too disgusted to be around her. She was disgusted with herself, so she understood. She should have stood up to Coach. She remembered guiltily how wet she had been the day he forced himself on her. Her legs had trembled beneath her and he had really hurt her and yet a part of her had been aroused all the same. There must be something wrong with her, to make her feel that way.

  She passed by the fish and chip shop on the way home, the smell wafting up her nose. She had looked in the window and saw people queuing for their supper, and she longed to go in and join them, but she needed to make her money last so it would be noodles again for her.

  She could hear Craig’s music on as she walked through the door to her building and she lingered on the stairs. A part of her wanted to go up and see him, but another stronger part was afraid of what he might say. What if he had seen the pictures? What if he thought she was trash?

  She walked up to her flat and turned the key in the lock. The door swung open and she looked around. Something was different but she couldn’t put a finger on it. The place smelled wrong. The odour was familiar, but out of place somehow. She puzzled over it as she shut the door behind her and pulled the chain across.

  She was walking towards the kettle before she realised that Dexter hadn’t greeted her. Usually he leapt on her the minute she opened the door, his little face wild with excitement as if they’d been separated for years.

  “Dexter?” she called. “Dex…”

  She felt a cold hand on her shoulder.

  “Still dirty, Kylie.”

  She spun around. He was in her flat.

  20

  Kylie stared at him in horror. “Where’s the dog?”

  Coach raised one unkempt eyebrow. “My dog, you mean. The one you stole.”

  She bit down on her bottom lip and her knees knocked together so badly she had to grip the counter.

  “What have you done with him?”

  He laughed his deep, bitter laugh.

  “Get out of my flat,” she ordered with the fiercest look she could muster.

  “Is that any way to treat your guest? I thought you were going to make me dinner.”

  “Why?” she demanded. “Why on earth would you think that?”

  “Why else would you take my dog? You wanted to see me again. You’re still wet for me, aren’t you, Kylie?”

  She glanced down quickly, but she was still fully clothed. There was no way he could know that.

  “Get out,” she said, her voice growing stronger.

  “I’m hungry.”

  “I haven’t got any food in.”

  “Then I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

  Her eyes skittered to the packet of noodles sitting on the counter.

  “Dry noodles? Fancy.”

  He moved closer and she caught his scent. That stale tang of cigarettes. She wrinkled up her nose and a shiver worked its way down her spine, light as the fingers of an invisible glove.

  “Make me the damned noodles, Kylie. Unless you want to skip straight to dessert?”

  Her hands shook as she switched the kettle on. She took a cup down from the cupboard then changed her mind and choose another, less cherished one and set it on the counter. She opened and closed the drawer, wondering if she dared grab a fork. She lingered too long, and then there was a click, signalling the water had boiled.

  “Careful!” he barked.

  The kettle shook violently in her hand and she felt, not for the first time, as if they were on a boat in the middle of a storm. Little droplets of heat spilled spitefully onto the floor, barely missing her toes. She only had to jerk in his direction, and he would shrivel onto the floor like the Wicked Witch of the West, but then she might never find Dexter.

  It took an incredible amount of willpower to direct the water into the mug. He stood too close to her, perhaps knowing how easily she could turn this weapon against him.

  “A bit more,” he said once she had stopped pouring.

  She topped up the cup.

  “Better not be too hot,” he said. “I don’t want to scorch my mouth.”

  “I can add a bit of cold water if you like?”

  “Be a doll and dip your finger in, see how hot it is.”

  She looked at him and caught the malice in his eyes, then slowly lowered her hand and dipped in her forefinger, drawing it out quickly.

  “It’s hot.”

  “Do it again. A bit longer this time.”

  She did as she was told, and this time an angry jolt of pain shot through her finger.

  “Good,” he said, sounding satisfied. “Good girl.”

  He took it carefully from her hand and she backed away, afraid of what he might do with it. She watched as he opened the drawer and brought out a fork. He proceeded to stir the noodles, their rich, spicy flavour filling the air.

  He cast his eyes around the flat.

  “Where am I supposed to eat this? Haven’t you even got a proper table?”

  She did, but it was folded up in the cupboard.

  “You can sit on the sofa.”

  “I bet you eat off the floor, don’t you? You filthy skank.”

  He plonked himself down and wound the noodles around the fork. He watched her thoughtfully while he ate, and she felt as if he was trying to read her mind. If only she could read his.

  “Where’s the dog?” she asked again.

  “I put him out on the balcony.”

  “He might fall!”

  She ran to the balcony and pulled the door open. Dexter was not there. She peered over the edge, but there was no sign of him, only the sounds of traffic below. She ran back in.

  “Where is he?” she asked frantically.

  Coach kept eating the noodles, watching her with that predatory look of his, the one that made her feel so dirty. She closed the balcony door and returned to him, waiting while he wiped his face, dotting his hanky around his mouth in an oddly delicate gesture.

  He set the mug to one side and allowed his gaze to travel up and down her body. Her tongue burned as if she had swallowed a mouthful of peppercorns.

  “Come here,” he said patting the sofa beside him. “We need to talk.”

  She drifted towards him and sank down on the sofa, eyes lowered to the floor.

  “You did something very bad, Kylie.”

  “I’m sorry I took your dog. But it wasn’t his fault. He’s just a dog, Coach…”

  “I’m not talking about the dog, although, yes, that was naughty. I’m talking about you running me over. And leaving me for dead.”

  She swallowed. His tone was as calm and patient as if they were talking about a misdemeanour. But she knew he must be angry. The question was, how much trouble was she in?

  He picked up the sports bag she hadn’t noticed lying at his feet. It was old and worn and filled with memories. He put his hand inside and brought out a black leather whip.

  “I think you know what this is for.”

  A wave of coldness chilled her bones.

  “Coach…”

  “Bend over, Kylie.”

  She glanced at the door and calculated how long it would take her to get there, but it was too late. He was already on his feet.

  She cried out as he bent her over the sofa and yanked off her jeans and knickers. The cool air blew on her bare skin, but she remained stock still, exactly as he had placed her, thighs clenched together in nervous anticipation. She felt his hand on her backside, familiar, almost soothing. He ran his fingers up and down her wet folds. He knew how to play her. He knew what she liked. She began to climax, and she hated herself
for it. She purred as he flicked her clit, unable to break away.

  He also knew what she didn’t like. There was a loud crack as he brought the whip down, creating a fireball of pain across her buttocks.

  “Please!”

  He laughed and the whip came down again, violent and brutal. The strikes came in quick succession, biting into her skin. Her excitement trickled down her leg and she moaned, desperate for release. She grew weaker as he zapped her of her energy, pain replacing pleasure. She tried to focus on something, anything else. She thought of Craig, and the sensation of falling asleep in his arms. She had felt so safe there, lying in his lap. She wished she could click her fingers and be back here. She should never have poked the bear.

  The lashes stopped, but she knew better than to hope it was over. She felt his rough hands on the delicate skin of her thighs, and a familiar tingle as he spread her wide. He paused to tease her again with his fingers, and she felt her orgasm gaining force. She was putty in his hands, she couldn’t have run if she’d wanted to. Her chest rose and fell as he stroked her, her body heaving as she prepared to come.

  The whip came down again, slower, yet more painful than before. He worked his way up her inner thighs until he reached her pussy. She held her body as rigid as it would go, wishing she could pull down a shutter or a grow a shell. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want him…

  “Help!” she gasped.

  “Louder, Kylie. No one’s going to hear you.”

  “Help!”

  She swallowed the saliva that had somehow got lodged in her throat. “My neighbour is upstairs.”

  “That’s great, lass. Keep yelling. We’ll give him a real eyeful when he comes down.”

  Her eyes bulged. The thought of Craig seeing her this way was horrifying.

  He bruised her with his lips, kissing her violently as he entered her mouth with his tongue. She tasted his essence of spice and tobacco. Then she cried out as he whipped her between the legs.

  His hands moved abruptly to her nipples, twisting, clawing, nibbling them as he pulled off her top. She was essentially naked, aside from her socks.