“Thanks, anyway, I’m gonna do my damnedest to finish it, but failing that I’m gonna be pretty pissed off with myself. So after that I’ll be up for some major celebration/ commiseration. I was hoping you’d keep the weekend free for me?”
Her eyes sparkled. “The whole weekend?”
“Yep.”
“Why, what do you have planned?”
His smile grew mischievous, teasing.
“Just leave it to me.”
Flora was by the front door, checking her mail when Kylie got home.
She forced herself to stop and talk to her. “Thank you for not telling Craig,”
Flora swung round to look at her, her face full of hurt and accusation.
“I still might. I haven’t decided yet.”
Kylie swallowed, but something in Flora’s face had softened.
“Look, I’m sorry I yelled at you. I was just… shocked, and frankly, embarrassed for you. I mean, what the hell did you think you were you doing?”
“I just… wanted to get Dexter back. I thought if I did what he wanted…”
“Did it work?”
She dropped her gaze to her shoes. “No.”
Flora let out a big sigh. “Do you know what I think, Kylie? I think you don’t want to be happy. You’re on this big downward spiral, gaining speed, and I’m scared you’re going to drag Craig down with you.”
“I won’t.”
Flora shook her head. “You don’t know that. He’s a good man, Kylie. You have a chance to be really happy. Don’t throw it away on someone who isn’t worth the dirt under your shoes.”
Kylie’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I won’t.”
Flora turned to go back into her flat. “I wish I could believe you.”
27
Craig had been staking out Wetherspoons for days now, and although a couple of the staff members agreed that Fraser McCracken was a regular, he had yet to catch him there, and was beginning to think the whole idea was a bust. Still, here he was again, eating another all-day breakfast, and drinking another bottomless cup of coffee. He sat tapping at his laptop, the word count growing by the hour. He couldn’t vouch for the quality, but if he completed this thing, he’d be pretty fucking proud. And no one would be more surprised than him.
It was around lunchtime on Thursday when the man in the tracksuit finally appeared. He watched as he walked in, one leg trailing the other. His first instinct was to confront him, but Craig needed to be smart this time, so instead, he ducked out the back way and checked all around to see if there were any sign of the dog. Because he wasn’t sure he had believed him when he’d said he’d let Dexter go. What if he hadn’t brought the dog at all when he came to attack Kylie? What if the dog was still safe and sound at his house?
With this in mind, Craig sat on his fists, watching as Coach ploughed through a meal not dissimilar to the one he’d already eaten. He sat alone, facing the street outside, watching the teenage girls walk by. Craig had never wanted to hit anyone quite as much as he wanted to hit this man. He could just tell from the way his eyes drifted after the young girls that he felt he could take whatever he wanted. He thought he was unstoppable and it made Craig feel sick as a pike.
He waited until Coach finished his meal, and then followed him out the door. He worried for a moment that he was going to drive off like he had on the night of the attack, but instead he set off on foot, walking around the corner to a street just off the town centre. He kept well back as he walked up the path to a small, detached house on the corner of Canton street.
Gotcha.
Luckily for him, Coach was pretty complacent. The outer door opened easily, leading into a small porch area with a second door and there, dangling from the lock, was a set of keys. It was almost as if he were inviting him in.
Craig opened the door slowly and walked right in. Dexter bounded up to him and leapt up into his arms, yapping and licking like they were old friends.
“Good boy,” he whispered, giving the dog a pat on the head.
He expected Coach to come out and see what the dog was yapping at, but perhaps he couldn’t hear him over the TV.
He walked through the dirty kitchen; cups and plates piled high on every surface. Damn, the man needed to clean up. The house had looked pretty decent on the outside but indoors it was messy and unkempt. This was clearly a bachelor pad. He couldn’t imagine any woman setting foot inside.
He entered the lounge, where Coach loafed on the sofa with his back to him, watching daytime TV. Some drivel about a woman who claimed her postman was the father of her seven children. His boots were still on his feet and a can of beer rested amongst the debris on the coffee table. He looked happy as a pig in mud.
Craig watched him for a while, waited until the older man got up to fiddle with something under his TV set. As he bent over, Craig took a run at him and kicked him hard between the legs.
Coach spluttered and fell to the side, his mouth hanging open as he gasped for breath. His eyes registered simultaneous pain and surprise followed by a spark of recognition as he saw who he was dealing with.
“Just in case you need a reminder. Keep away from Kylie.”
He waited a moment, watching with sick satisfaction as Coach breathed through his pain. He attacked him again, a kick to the gut and a punch to the face. Anger smouldered inside him as he struck him hard on the chin.
Coach gasped and grunted. He wanted to say something, but he had to wait for the pain to pass.
“You think… you can win her heart,” he eventually spluttered. “But she will always be hot… for me.”
Craig boiled with fury. “You were her coach, you sick bastard! You were meant to look out for her.”
Coach pointed one feeble finger. “She’s not… like other girls. She might seem sweet and soft, but she is damaged, twisted. And it wasn’t me who did that to her. She was like that from the start. She needs our little games. She craves them. I know how to get her wet.”
“She’s scared of you.”
“That’s part of the fun. She doesn’t want some weak, vanilla guy. She wants a real man to rip off her clothes and make her come. You treat her like a whore, and she can’t get enough. Treat her like a lady and she’ll use your heart as a dart board.”
“You’re disgusting!”
He socked him square in the jaw again and then kicked him in the ribs for good measure.
He picked up Dexter, who was now lying by the fire.
“I’m taking him to Kylie.”
“Oh no you’re bloody well not.”
Craig watched in surprise as Coach picked himself up and flew at him, slamming him with the weight of his body. Craig kicked him off, but it wasn’t over. The two skirmished for a while, each landing several vicious punches, until they came to a natural pause.
“You like it too, don’t you?” Coach said, clutching his side. “You’re like an animal in need of a kill. Show her that side and she’ll be hot for you too.”
Craig scowled and looked about for Dexter, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“He went out the door,” Coach told him with a triumphant grin. “You’ll have to come back for him another time.”
“Don’t think I won’t,” Craig snarled. He picked up his jacket, which had come off in the course of the fighting and showed himself the door.
“Where are you off to at this hour?” Kylie asked, as she passed him on the stairs the next morning.
“I’m going to see my tutor. I pulled an all-nighter. I think I’ve actually finished my dissertation.”
“No way!” she cried. “That’s awesome!”
“Yeah, well I’ve got to go to over to the uni and hand it in, then I’m back to bed. I’m shattered.”
“I bet you are.”
She felt his eyes grazing her outfit. She had worn the same short skirt and heels all week. She didn’t know why, it just felt right, like that was the person she was now. The whore. It felt wrong to cover herself up in jeans.
S
he left him and continued down the road towards the station.
“Hi, Kylie!”
She turned and saw Andy, her landlord. A man she had met less than a dozen times in the two years she had lived at the flat.
“Hi, Andy,” she said, wishing he wouldn’t stare at her in quite such an obvious manner.
“How’s the flat? Anything I can do for you?”
She placed a hand on her hip, giving him a good view of her cleavage.
“Yes, actually there is.”
Sexy clothes gave her power. She noticed it as she continued her journey into work. Some men stared blatantly, whilst others blushed and averted their eyes. Just by wearing what she was wearing she was making men feel uncomfortable. It was so much better than trying to shield herself from their unwanted gaze. Let them look. Let them touch if they had to. She was the one in charge.
“Morning, Marc!” she said, as she breezed into the library.
Marc mumbled something incoherent and dashed off to his desk.
“Morning, Lachlan.”
Lachlan tipped his head sideways as if that was the only way he could take her in.
“You want a coffee? I’m just off to Starbucks.”
“Thanks, something sweet and frothy would be lovely.”
She caught Ainsley rolling her eyes and she didn’t blame her. Men were daft, but it wasn’t Kylie’s problem. It was her body, and she was going to use it how she chose.
There was plenty to keep her distracted at the library that day. Someone must have been holding books back, because there were mountains of them to file and oddly most of them were on the highest shelves. She wiped her clammy hands on her skirt. She was glad of the light attire, given the unusual ferocity of the sun. The library’s heating system was not equipped to deal with such fine weather and far from cooling the place, it only exacerbated the heat. Both of her armpits were damp, and she would need to go for a wash before she headed back home. She didn’t want Craig to see her all hot and sweaty, although she hoped he might make her sweat himself this weekend, if Flora kept her mouth shut.
She was halfway down when she realised someone was standing below, steadying the ladder. She felt his hand on her inner thigh and almost let out a shriek. He was grinning broadly, his face red with amusement despite the new blemish on his chin.
“Got a nice view of you up there,” he said.
She flushed and climbed down carefully, finishing with a little hop at the bottom.
“I bet you can still taste me, can’t you?” he whispered.
She ignored this, even though his words make her wince.
“Is Dexter outside?”
“Rebus you mean?”
“Whatever.” She walked towards the entrance with him trailing behind her.
The little dog was indeed tied up outside. He let out a little yap and she stroked his ears.
“Uh-uh, not yet,” he said.
“You promised,” she reminded him. “A deal’s a deal.”
“We’ll get to that. Is there somewhere quiet we can go?”
She nodded and led him to the Criminal Justice library. The room was in darkness, all the shutters pulled down to block out the light. The bank of computers blinked angrily, as if waiting to be brought back to life.
He closed the door behind them, and the age-old smells of leather and dust wafted up to her nose. He pushed her roughly up against the wall and ran his hands up and down her curves. She quivered at his slightest touch, her breath coming hot and fast. She could make out the whites of his eyes, the sharp points of his pupils. Like a wild cat, she thought. A savage animal with a ferocious appetite and no manners. His claws were sharp, his body poised to attack. She could kick him in the balls. She could scream and yell for help and yet she didn’t.
“See, baby, no need for knives is there?” he murmured, running his hands up her inner thigh. She could only moan in reply.
28
“Finger yourself,” he urged her. “I want to watch you fuck yourself with your fingers.”
“No! I’m not doing it.”
He took a step closer. The bitter essence of coffee escaped his mouth and floated into hers.
“Either you do it, or I’ll do it for you.”
“Someone could come in at any moment.”
“Better make it quick then.”
She felt heat on her cheeks as she reached down into her waistband. Her flesh felt slick as she found her entrance.
“Do it, baby.”
She slipped a finger inside and was met with a warm, tingling sensation.
“Feels good doesn’t it?”
She tried another finger. It was harder now. She couldn’t get it in so deep.
“Fuck yourself!”
In his excitement, he didn’t even bother to keep his voice down. She moaned as she worked her fingers in and out. She could feel his eyes upon her, could almost taste the saliva on his tongue.
“I think you’re ready for me now.”
She felt a cloying feeling in her stomach as she withdrew her hand. He tugged at her waistband and she gasped as his fingers plunged easily inside her. Why was she always so wet for him? She spread her legs to accommodate more of his fingers. He had three deep inside her now, and she couldn’t hold back her moans.
“S… stop!” she said, as he fingered her furiously. “S… stop.”
He made her feel so dirty. And yet – the walls spun around her and she gasped for air.
“We’ve got to do this properly, me and you. Then you can have the dog.”
She couldn’t speak. His fingers worked fast, in and out, in and out. Making her pant like the slut she was. His touch was rough and relentless. His hate made her wetter still.
“C… come over Sunday night,” she said, barely able to think.
He finger fucked her harder, making her breathless and sore. Her chest heaved and she came violently, juddering all over his hand. He withdrew his fingers abruptly and made her lick them clean. She didn’t like the taste. It was sweet and sour like limes and his fingers felt rough as he scraped them across her teeth.
He held her by the chin, stealing her breath with a kiss, then he turned her towards the wall and hitched up her skirt. He edged her underwear down enough to expose her bottom, and she knew that any moment one of her colleagues might walk in. Any minute she could lose the only job she’d ever liked and yet she didn’t move a muscle.
She waited, her heart beating fast, like a train coming off the tracks. She counted the seconds. She counted the beats. Then his hand came down so hard she bit her lip. She tasted blood but still she did not resist. He delivered several smacks, making her hop and jump. Her juices ran down her legs as he spanked her, leaving her backside smarting and her body aching for more.
“Hold still!”
“What… what are you doing?”
He took a penknife from his pocket. She held very still as he moved round to her side. She could feel the blade running along her hip as he sliced through the thin cotton of her knickers. Then he did the same on the other side. He yanked the underwear out from under her and held it to his nose.
“Now I can smell you whenever I want.”
She screwed up her nose, disgusted and embarrassed. He grinned with triumph before stuffing them into his pocket.
“You’re a very naughty girl, Kylie. The things you make me do. All right, I’ll see you on Sunday and you shall have the dog.”
“You promise?”
“You have my word.”
She crossed her arms defensively as she left the criminal justice room. She was certain that anyone who looked at her would know she’d been up to something. Especially as she was now completely bare under her skirt.
Shona was looking at her with a questioning glance.
“What?” she snapped.
“What’s happened to your hair?” she asked. “You look like you’ve been out in a blizzard.”
Kylie brushed down her hair. “Is that better?”
&n
bsp; “Not really. You look all mussed up. You been getting a bit of action, Kylie?”
At that, Ainsley and Lachlan looked over.
“Of course not,” she said. “This is the library.”
Guilt dragged her down as she boarded the train after work, the wind blowing cool air between her legs. She knew she was whoring herself out, letting Coach touch her, especially when her heart belonged to Craig. If she was going to be with Craig, really, truly be with him, then she had to find a way to get rid of Coach for good.
She was still lost in thought as she approached her building. Flora had her curtains closed, and she could make out two silhouettes. She heard a giggle as she entered the building. Flora was laughing at something Marc had said to her. Kylie smiled. Marc was good for her, even she could see that.
Instead of going into her flat, she walked upstairs to Craig’s and knocked on the door. He opened it instantly, as if he’d been expecting her.
“Kylie Camilla Fairbairn…”
She shook her head.
“Cornelia?”
“What makes you think it starts with a ‘C’?”
“I have a nose for these things.”
“Actually, it’s Rosaleen.”
“Ah, my dark Rosaleen,” he took her in his arms and gazed into her eyes. “Kylie Rosaleen, would you do me the honour of accompanying me on a weekend in Perth?”
Her eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely. Why? Why not?”
Coach’s face flashed in front of her eyes and she tried to push him out of her mind. She didn’t want to think about him. Horrible, dirty old man. She wanted to be with Craig. Sexy, brooding Craig. The man who made her smile.
“How… how can we afford it?”
“I have the money, Kylie. If that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not going to make you sneak out the window in the morning.”
She smiled weakly. “Then why are you living in this crummy building?”
And well she might ask. Anyone with the least bit of money would be living somewhere else, somewhere the roof didn’t leak and the walls weren’t paper thin.
They Won't Believe You (Scottish Dark Romance Book 1) Page 16
