by Jade West
She’s more right than she realises. I can’t hold back from expanding. “I like tattoos on the neck, and arms that could crush me to death. I like pierced cocks and sharp teeth and a guy who’s rough enough that I’ll know about it next day.” I laugh. “Or next week.”
“You’re a dark horse,” she tells me. “I had you down for a fey little thing. Fragile and floaty.”
Her observation takes me aback. “You did?”
She nods. A lot. As though it’s stating the obvious. “Yeah. Sure thing. Very floaty. Didn’t think you’d say boo to a goose.”
I ponder her statement. Fragile and floaty. I think of how my old friends back home would collapse in hysterics at that description.
Or they would have… before…
I don’t feel so fragile and floaty right now. I feel sharp and daring. Bold and brave and… tipsy.
“What did you think of me?” she asks. “When you first saw me, I mean?”
I try to think back, but there’s nothing there, just a vague memory of some blonde woman next door. I didn’t even notice, didn’t care.
Didn’t care about anything.
Not even myself.
Especially not myself.
Shit.
I think of all the people I’ve neglected in my own misery. All the obligations I’ve ignored. All the life I’ve missed out on.
And it’s there, in my barren living room, with a red hooker dress hanging from my shoulders, that I realise I’m myself again. Or at least some convincing semblance thereof.
I’ve been gone a long time. Too long.
I tapped out of life for a whole season and then some.
I take a breath and slide my feet into my new heels. I’m back in the life game. Back for a whole new season in a whole new team.
I like it. I like all of it.
I like him best of all.
“We’d better get ready,” Sarah says. “Plenty of hot vicars ready to hear our confession.”
“That’s priests,” I say.
She shrugs. “I don’t give a shit, I’ll confess to any hot guy who’ll listen.”
I don’t doubt that. I laugh aloud at how wrong I was about Sarah. About this town. About everything.
And then I bring out my inner tart. It’s about time she got an airing.
Phoenix
I’ve been watching her. Keeping an eye on her location through the app on my phone with compulsive frequency as soon as Cam is snug in bed at night.
It’s almost become an addiction. Borderline unhealthy.
As of yet she’s been home every evening. It’s been a struggle to hold back from joining her there, but a fine wine needs time to mature.
I don’t want her to be expecting me when I use that key for the first time. I don’t want her to be waiting expectantly when I use her sweet little body however I want with the luxury of time on her own turf. So I hold back, even though my cock hates me for it.
It’s when I see that circle move on my handset that my heart speeds into life on Thursday evening. By eight o’clock she’s out at some club in the centre of Hereford. I look it up online.
And then I check her social media. The social media she’s only just been using again these past few days.
Really, I’m amazed at what a stalker I’m turning into.
I’m taken aback by the picture she’s uploaded to her timeline. She’s with some pretty blonde woman with bobbed hair, and I don’t need to see any more than the selfie shot to know she’s dressed to impress.
To impress or get laid. Or both.
The thought is a lead weight in my gut.
She’s wearing gloves, and a feathery wrap around her neck. Her tits are high over red satin. Her lips are glossy red.
I’m downstairs in a heartbeat, holding up my keys to Serena in the living room as I ask if I’m okay to head out for a few hours.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“Just out,” I say as I grab my jacket.
She puts her TV show on pause. “Just out with someone?”
I feel acutely uncomfortable with the implication, but she had a point the other night. Too many secrets, too many lies. “Maybe someone,” I admit.
She smiles. “And what is this someone’s name?”
“Abigail.”
Her face is a picture. “Abigail,” she repeats. “And does Abigail enjoy mud wrestling by any chance?”
“We may have taken a stroll in the countryside.”
“A stroll, sure.”
I hold up my phone. “Call me if Cam wakes or you need me. I’ll head straight back.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m sure we’ll be fine. You just worry about strolling with Abigail.”
I smirk. “I’ll do that.”
I experience an additional sense of reality for having spoken her name out loud. My mind is as wired as my body as I take the drive over to Hereford.
Her selfie is firmly on my mind as I drum my fingers on the steering wheel. My balls are tight and aching. My cock fucking desperate to feel that sweet pink cunt squeezing tight.
I wonder what I’m walking into. I wonder who else she’s out with, if anyone.
I wonder how easy it’ll be to grab her with no spectators. I wonder how easy it will be to wait for the right moment.
My composure feels stretched pretty thin already.
I park up down the street from this place. Diva’s the glowing sign reads. The place is busy but not heaving. I’m careful as I make my way through the throng inside, skirting the edges to ensure I see her before she sees me. She’s nowhere inside. I watch the entrance to the women’s toilets long enough to make sure she’s not in there either.
The beer garden out the back is surprisingly big compared to the interior. Picnic benches and outdoor heaters are dotted around the terrace. The gardens stretch right back into the darkness and curl around the pub to the left. Drinkers congregate in groups. I see hers immediately – a huddle of girls wearing virtually nothing. Leopard print and lace and feather boas. Abigail looks different.
It’s more than the clothes she’s wearing or the slutty lipstick. It’s the way she stands so confidently. The way her eyes sparkle. The sound of her laughter.
The blonde woman is on one side of her and a guy is on the other. I clock his black outfit. I don’t need to see him from the front to know he’s dressed as a vicar. Tarts and vicars. Of course.
I edge closer, making sure I’m always a wall of bodies from her eyeline. I’ll never make it beyond her to the shadows at the back of the garden without her seeing, so I opt to venture around to the side instead.
It’s a good call. Edgy. Borderline insane, but good. There’s an emergency exit onto the street from here, but it’s closed and latched. There’s a big wheeled recycling bin and a load of trolleys for general waste. The vents from the pub kitchen come out this way and the lights are off inside.
The sound of voices is loud enough to be invasive. I’m close enough to her group to make out almost every word.
They’re talking work. Innocuous chatter laced with drunken laughter. Abigail’s laugh is loud and free. I step closer to watch her body language.
Her legs are tense and tight on those stupid heels, and her skirt is short enough that you can see her suspenders.
It makes me prickly.
Agitated.
The guy on her right likes her. His face is turned to hers, smiling. He laughs at every fucking word she says.
His arm hovers at her back. He presses his hand to her as she regales everyone with a tale about a client at her old company. She’s either too drunk or engrossed to notice, but I do.
My gut twists. My hands are clammy.
My jaw clenches as his hand slides lower. He’s a heartbeat from her ass when I disregard every one of my sensibilities and pull my phone from my pocket.
She’s laughing as the ringtone sounds from her handbag. She looks confused at the unknown number.
I hate the way handy boy lo
oks at her screen along with her.
I listen as she excuses herself. “Maybe it’s my mum,” she says, and presses it to her ear.
“I’m not your fucking mother,” I whisper, loving the way she stiffens.
I wait. Watch as she looks around her.
“Hi,” she says. “I, um…”
“You will say this is a family call. You will keep your phone to your ear and you will excuse yourself. You will walk to your right, down towards the emergency exit. If you’ve any sense, you’ll make sure nobody follows you.”
The prick is staring at her. Puppy dog eyes.
I almost hope he can fucking hear me.
She flicks her gaze in my direction. “Okay,” she says, but I’ve already hung up.
Twenty-Two
Jealousy is the tie that binds, and binds, and binds.
Helen Rowland
Abigail
The thrill pulses right through me – that incredible mix of excitement and fear all at once.
I’m an addict, always craving that next fix. My body is a puppet on his strings. My clit throbbing the very moment I hear his voice.
I daren’t look too hard for him, just chancing a quick glance in the direction of the emergency exit. It’s dark over there. Dark but close.
Really close – just a stone’s throw away.
I can almost feel him on me already. My legs tremble on my ridiculous heels.
I take the handset from my ear and address the now quiet group around me. “It’s my mum,” I lie. “I need to take the call. Don’t wait for me, just keep on drinking. I’ll catch you up.”
I could die inside as Jack leans in close, his mouth to my cheek. “Hurry back.”
I’ve barely noticed his ever-narrowing proximity this evening. Laughter and alcohol and a huddled group make it so easy for hints to go unnoticed.
I wonder if they’ve gone unnoticed by the stranger around the corner.
I wonder if he cares.
I hope he cares.
His call is disconnected but I press the handset right back to my ear as I walk away. “Hey, Mum,” I say. “I’ve been meaning to call you.”
Every step is dithery as I head into the shadows. My eyes haven’t even adjusted to the darkness when his hand clamps tight across my mouth.
“You wanna be real fucking quiet,” he growls. “Unless you want your friends to hear you squeal, that is.”
I shake my head.
His breath is so hot on my ear. “How about lover boy? Do you want him to hear what I’m making you take? Would that make you wet, you dirty little slut?”
Warm fingers trail up my thighs to press against my pussy. I buckle against him, breath already ragged.
My dress is short enough that he barely has to hitch it. He slips his hand down my knickers and I’m well aware I’m already soaking.
“Is this for me or him?” he whispers, but doesn’t let me speak. “It matters little, you’ll be too fucking sore to take him when I’m done with you.”
There’s an edge to his voice. A harshness.
Jealousy.
My whole body sings.
He’s jealous.
He’s really jealous.
I’m glad I’m a tart tonight. I’m glad I’m wearing slutty suspenders with my tits out on display. I’m glad my skin feels so chilled all of a sudden in the night air.
I’m glad he’s seeing me like this.
I’m glad he came for me.
The angel on my shoulder is freaking out. I feel sparks of panic underneath the thrill.
I’m with work colleagues on a night out. Actual work colleagues who gossip and laugh and pry, and would want to know who the fuck this crazy hot guy is.
I’ll never ever live it down if they catch him with his hand down my knickers. It’ll be all over the office before I even step foot in there tomorrow.
“You’ll do exactly what I say or I’ll parade you out there with your cunt on display and fuck you in front of everyone, loverboy included. Understand?”
I nod.
I take a deep breath when he pulls his hand away. I spin to face him before he can grab me.
“He’s not my loverboy,” I whisper. “He’s just a friend. A co-worker.”
“A friend who’s got designs on that tight little cunt of yours.”
“He can have all the designs he wants,” I say. “He won’t be getting any.” Even in the shadows I see the darkness in his expression. Drink makes me brave. Brave enough to press my body tight to his. “Are you jealous?”
He laughs a low laugh. It doesn’t convince me any. “Do I seem like the jealous type?”
“You do right now,” I tell him.
“You’re a drunk little tart on a night out. I’d just rather it was me who pounded that hot little slit of yours.”
“You don’t need to be jealous,” I whisper. “You’re all I think about. I hope you’re waiting around every corner. I fall asleep with my fingers between my legs, pretending they’re yours.”
I gasp as he grabs my arms. Stifle a whimper as he slams me hard into the wall.
“No pretending necessary tonight.” His voice is raspy. Dangerous. He lifts my dress up around my waist, tugs my knickers to the side.
He’s going to fuck me here, just a few paces away from people who know me. Close enough that they’ll probably hear the wetness.
He can’t do this here. We can’t do this here.
“We should move,” I whisper, and his weight presses tight on my back.
“We’ll do what I fucking say we’re going to do,” he growls. “I might even take that pretty asshole of yours while I’m here.”
“Please don’t.” I shiver. “Not here. I won’t be able to stay quiet…”
“What makes you think I fucking care?”
And oh fuck how I want it. Holy fuck, how I want him. His brutal touch, his painful cock. I want it all.
I can’t help but whimper as he pushes a finger in my ass. I squirm against the weight of him as he circles it deep. “Tight,” he grunts. “You’ll scream when I take you. You’ll be a gaping fucking wreck when I’m done.”
“Please…” I hiss, and I’m not even sure what I’m asking for.
“I’m gonna fuck your ass until you scream for me,” he says. I take a gulp of breath. “But not tonight.”
The disappointment hits easily as hard as the relief.
I flinch as he tears my knickers off. I cringe at how loud the ripping fabric sounds.
“Let’s make this easier for you,” he whispers. I struggle against him as he shoves the wet lace into my open mouth, but there’s nowhere to go. I taste myself, and I taste fucking dirty. Wanton. A slut in a tiny red dress.
He edges me closer to the corner, I screw my eyes closed tight as my friends come into view.
“Look at them,” he orders, and I do. I burn with humiliation. Scorching with embarrassment at the prospect of them finding me with my knickers in my mouth and his monster dick inside me.
He tugs my dress from my tits so sharply I hear the fabric tear. I just hope it stays functional enough to hide my modesty later.
He flattens me to the brickwork. The wall is like sandpaper against tender skin. My nipples graze and spark. My legs threaten to buckle.
“Loverboy won’t fuck you like I can, I promise you,” he says, and thrusts four fucking fingers at my pussy. I spread my legs to take them, sucking in air through my nose. His other hand wraps around to strum my clit. I’m writhing against his touch even as his fingers force me open. “He’ll never give you what you need.”
He’s preaching to the converted, but I fucking love it.
I buck against his fingers for more. I reach back for him, desperate.
I want so much to see him. To feel him. To taste his mouth on mine.
But it’s not going to be tonight.
Tonight is going to be painful. Sharp. Beautiful.
I’m ready for it when it comes, even if my body isn’t. His fingers are
still on my clit as he fumbles with his jeans.
His rhythm is faultless, even as he frees his cock and guides it between my legs.
I suddenly love these hooker heels. I love the way they make the height difference so much more manageable. Love the way they make my ass stick out for him.
And I suddenly love the gag in my mouth, too. I need it as he shunts the head of his cock inside me.
Fuck.
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the size of him. I don’t think I ever want to.
I’m beginning to know his ridges. Beginning to predict the way they hurt as they push their way in.
I’m moving to the beat of him, using the wall as leverage when I hear the conversation change around the corner.
“Where’s Abi? That call’s taking a while.” Lauren’s voice.
It takes me aback that they call me Abi when I’m not around.
Nobody here calls me Abi. Here it’s only been Abigail. I left Abi back in Hampshire.
“Maybe she’s gone to the bar on the way back?” Sarah suggests.
“How long have you known her?” Lauren’s voice.
“A few months. As actual friends only a few days, though.”
Actual friends. The description makes me smile around my gag.
I buck back at my monster a little harder. A little braver.
I wince as he makes me take another metal rung. My pussy clenches as hard around his dick as I dare, just because I love to hear him moan.
If I’m going to struggle for silence, then so is he.
“She’s great,” Lauren’s voice starts up again. “Took us a while to get to know her, but we love her. She’s amazing.”
“She’s so funny,” Sarah says. “I just know we’re gonna be friends a long time. I’ve had such fun these past few days.”
“She’s a star,” Jack’s voice says, and the monster slams me hard enough to take my breath. “She’s so down to earth. Kind. Bubbly.” He pauses. “Gorgeous.”
The crowd whoops and whistles and my monster fucks me so hard my eyes water. My poor makeup takes a pounding along with my pussy.
I’m grinning into my gag like a crazy. Slamming back at him with everything I have.
