Jenna turned to the girl, one of the possibly Spanish contingent. She had eager brown eyes and a brace on her teeth.
‘I used to be,’ she said with a wry smile. ‘Now I go by the name Jenna Myatt.’
‘Oh, I didn’t know. I watch all your shows. I am a big, big fan. Will you sign my book?’
She reached into her bag and brought out an exercise book with a picture of a patchwork owl on the front.
‘Sure. Do you have a pen?’
The girl handed her one.
Jenna’s fingers were wet and slippery and it occurred to her that she would never have agreed to this – to signing autographs at the washbasin in a motorway service restroom – if she hadn’t been so preoccupied with the state of things under her skirt. Any distraction was welcome, even an annoying or impractical one.
‘Perhaps should have waited until my hands were dry,’ she said ruefully, watching a blob of soap drop on to the page beneath her message.
‘Oh, it’s OK, really. Thank you so much!’
‘No problem – but please – don’t send all your friends to me. I can’t sign any more.’
Already a crowd of curious, cameraphone-wielding adolescents lurked at the fringes of her vision. She needed to get out of there before it got too much.
Luckily, they parted to let her through. Outside the restrooms, surprise surprise, a few impromptu buskers had set up and were warbling popular songs in competition with each other.
Jenna wanted to laugh. As if she’d interrupt her toilet break to sign up a potential star act. Still, she had to admire their spirit of enterprise.
She found herself rushing to get away from it all, and the rushing made her more intensely conscious of the cling of her skirt and the rubbing of her thighs.
By the coffee shop entrance, Jason stood waiting for her, but he was no longer alone. He was chatting to a couple of lorry drivers, leaning back on a high stool, his expression one of satisfied vanity. Jenna knew that look. It was his swaggering I-am-the-dom look. What the hell was he telling those men?
She hurried up to him.
‘So you were on remand for a while then?’ one of the men said.
Ah. They were talking about the false drug charges that he’d been accused of.
‘Yeah, thought I was going down, for sure.’
‘But Jenna Diamond came to your rescue. Fuck, that’s a story. What’s she like?’
‘Why don’t you see for yourself?’ she suggested, stepping up to the trio. She sensed that the lorry drivers were keen to find out a bit more than she wanted known, and Jason might be too puffed up with self-importance to hold back.
The lorry drivers did nothing but stare for a few moments, while Jason held out his hand and pulled her into his side.
‘Wow,’ contributed one. ‘Well done, mate. Pleased to meet you,’ he said, more formally to Jenna. ‘The missus loves that show of yours. Wait till I tell her.’
‘Would you like a photograph?’ she asked graciously.
She posed with each lorry driver while Jason took pictures.
‘Lovely to meet you,’ she said firmly, so that they could be in no doubt that the encounter was over. They mumbled thanks and shuffled off towards the burger bar, looking over their shoulders every few steps.
‘Good lads,’ said Jason.
‘You can’t possibly know that,’ said Jenna, a touch tetchily. ‘And you’re going to need to learn the wisdom of reserve. Smile and chat, but don’t ever discuss anything personal.’
‘Don’t get too close to the little people? Is that what you’re saying?’ He was teasing, but there was a smidgen of ice in it.
‘Of course not.’
The makings of a tiff were soon forgotten when Jason, making sure their backs weren’t visible to anyone, ran his hand over the curve of Jenna’s bottom.
‘So did you do as you were told?’ he said softly into her ear. ‘Mm, I think you did. Good girl.’
She tried hard to keep her breathing even but his hand felt so sinful and so delicious, running over her thinly-covered cheeks, that she had to focus hard.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ she muttered. ‘I feel like everyone that passes has X-ray vision.’
Jason chuckled.
‘Perhaps they have.’
‘Not helpful.’ She wiggled his hand off her bottom and marched off towards the main entrance.
‘I want proof, you know,’ he called, hurrying to catch up with her. ‘When we get to the car.’
She had a delirious vision of raising her skirt there and then while the crowds ambled around them, baring herself to the sun-bleached expanse of the car park and beyond. God, what put these things into her mind? Or his, for that matter?
She didn’t feel quite safe until she was back in the car, and confident that there was nobody parked nearby who could see them.
Jason opened her door and peered in, looming over her.
‘Never mind that,’ he said. ‘Get in the back seat.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Because I told you to.’
She reached down to her handbag and took out the knickers, waving them defiantly in his face.
‘Put ’em down,’ he said, taking hold of her wrist. ‘And get in the back seat. Now.’
She wanted to argue with him, but his tone brought out that strange meek side of her she hadn’t known existed before she met him and she climbed into the back, looking carefully out of the tinted back window to make sure nobody was peeping – not that they could see much through the opaque glass.
‘All right,’ he said, once she was seated in the back. He got in beside her and put a hand on her knee. ‘Now, show me.’
‘Jason! We could be seen.’
‘No we won’t. Lift up your skirt and show me what’s underneath.’
He was calm and confident and she found herself reaching for her hem and shuffling it up her thighs. He slung an arm across the seat, leaning in to her to watch as closely as possible. When the cotton inched up to the top of her thighs, he stopped her with a hand on hers.
‘Let me finish,’ he whispered.
She obliged him by raising her bottom slightly off the seat to let him push the fabric all the rest of the way, then sat back, the leather cool and thrilling against her bare skin. Why did this feel so extravagantly dirty? It was surely no different than bare legs and yet it felt completely, decadently other. Her pussy was throbbing and she knew that she would feel the wetness of it if she clamped her legs together.
But that wasn’t going to happen.
‘Open your legs,’ whispered Jason.
She spread her knees wide and sat, looking down on what went on lower down as if it were all happening to someone else. It wasn’t her, Jenna Myatt Diamond, sitting in a car with no knickers on, letting a rough estate lad take a good, long look at the goods. She would never do such a thing . . . She would never let him run his hand up her thigh and push his fingertips into the slippery centre of her, rubbing and teasing and whispering dirty words into her ear all along. She would never sit there, clenching her hands and her sphincter, trying not to gasp or cry out while he circled her clit with such cocky self-assurance, knowing exactly what he was doing to her and how to make her beg for more.
And Jenna Myatt Diamond would never have an orgasm in a car.
‘No, never,’ she panted, as she came over his fingertips.
‘Never what?’ He gave her a puzzled grin.
She sat back, shut her eyes and let herself flop against the leather.
‘Nothing. Don’t worry. God. You’re evil.’
‘I know. But I’m good as well, eh?’ He nibbled at her earlobe, then moved down to her neck. ‘Like you. My good girl. Doing as she’s told. Thought you deserved a little reward.’
She opened her eyes again.
‘And what about you?’ she asked, looking pointedly at his bulging crotch. ‘That looks uncomfortable.’
‘It is,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you might want to . . . give me a ha
nd?’
She didn’t need asking twice. She released the protrusion from its close confines inside his jeans and gave it all the loving attention her hands could provide, using some hand cream to enhance his pleasure. The car park, the motorway services, the entire world fell away as she devoted herself wholeheartedly to making him feel as he had made her feel. He half-climbed over her, burying his face in her neck, and when his climax came he spurted himself over her bared thighs and pussy, sighing low and long.
‘What a mess,’ hissed Jenna, fumbling in her bag for some tissues.
‘Who cares?’ drawled Jason, sounding half-asleep and fully blissful. ‘Gorgeous. You’re gorgeous. I love you.’
Her minor irritation faded and she kissed him, delicately removing him from where he clung so that she could get at the creamy residue on her skin.
‘I love you too,’ she said. ‘But I really think we should have waited until we were in the hotel. I hope nobody caught any of that.’
‘You’re paranoid,’ said Jason with a yawn. ‘Why would they? The windows are tinted out. It’s completely private.’
‘I hope you’re right. Damn, there’s some on my skirt.’
‘Take it off then,’ he said with a wink.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not driving to London naked from the waist down.’
‘I’ll drive. You stay there.’
‘Can you even drive? Do you have a licence?’
‘Yeah.’
‘On you?’
‘No.’
‘Well then.’
‘It’s with a load of gear I have to pick up from Mum’s. I have got one though.’
‘Yes, but you can’t actually drive without it to hand. So there goes that plan. Anyway, how long is it since you drove?’
‘Dunno. Couple of years.’
‘Did you ever have a car?’
‘Not one of my own, no.’ He took a tissue and helped Jenna finish off the cleaning operation.
‘Well, if all this works out, I daresay you can have one.’
He shook his head, looking a bit disgruntled.
‘What?’ she said, tugging down her skirt preparatory to climbing back over into the driver’s seat.
‘You sound like a parent talking to a child. Behave yourself and I’ll get you some sweets.’
‘You know I don’t mean it that way.’
‘Don’t you?’
‘No.’
‘OK, I know you don’t. I just wish it could be me in the driving seat.’
She put her hands on the steering wheel and twisted her neck around to him.
‘It will be,’ she promised. ‘We just need to do the groundwork first. Come on. Let’s go to London.’
Chapter Five
‘SO, WHAT DO you want to do first? Shower, eat, see the sights?’
Jason was peering through the curtain at Hyde Park beyond from their penthouse suite in Park Lane.
‘Aren’t we going to see your friend?’
‘Tomorrow,’ said Jenna, coming up behind him and resting her cheek against his shoulder. ‘I thought it’d be nice to have the evening to ourselves.’
He grabbed her swiftly into his arms so that they stood in the floor-to-ceiling window together, not that anybody could have seen them from below, unless they used binoculars. Jason seemed to realise this, because their kiss had not lasted long before he pushed a hand up her skirt, revealing the bare skin beneath.
‘Jason,’ she gasped, breaking off. ‘We’re right in the window.’
‘Yeah, but it’s not as if anyone can see. Unless a helicopter happens to come by, which isn’t too likely. Or a window cleaner. Christ, that’d be a job, cleaning all these windows.’
He tried to look down, but the parapet of the building prevented any view of the many lower floors.
‘All the same, I’d rather not show myself off to the world. This isn’t an Amsterdam brothel.’
‘I’ve heard about those. Some mates went over on a lads’ weekend once. They just stand right in the window on the street, yeah? Weird.’
‘And sad,’ said Jenna. ‘Come on, you haven’t answered my question. Are we going out, and if so, where?’
Jason threw up his arms as if to encompass the whole of London.
‘The place is too big,’ he said. ‘I haven’t got the first idea what to do here.’
‘Well, why don’t we shower, change and go for a walk in the park. We can decide while we walk.’
‘Fair enough.’
He opened the door to the bathroom suites.
‘What the fuck’s this? There’s no shower.’
Jenna hurried up behind him.
‘Oh, there is – it’s a wet room.’ She bit back the impulse to ask him if he’d ever used one before. Obviously he hadn’t.
‘A wet room?’ He twisted his neck to frown down at her. ‘What’s the point of that?’
‘It’s just like a massive walk-in shower room, that’s all. It’s great. You’ll like it. See, the shower fittings are over there on the far wall. Much better than being cramped up in a cubicle.’
‘Doesn’t the towel get wet?’
‘No, the rail is out of range.’
Jason still seemed unconvinced. ‘Don’t see what’s wrong with a regular shower myself,’ he muttered, but then he brightened, pulling Jenna into his side. ‘Plenty big enough for two, then.’
‘Well, now you come to mention it.’ She squirmed against him. A shower would be lovely; she’d been feeling icky ever since their interlude in the motorway services car park. Not that a shower with Jason was likely to be particularly cleansing . . . Enjoyable, though.
‘Get in there,’ he growled, nudging her through the door.
The pair of them stripped off in seconds, coming quickly back together for a warm, bare-skinned embrace. As they kissed and held each other, Jason moved them in a clumsy dance towards the shower controls.
He broke off to examine them.
‘Don’t want to get boiled alive,’ he muttered, fidgeting with the settings, before turning a gaze of frank lewdness back on Jenna. ‘How’s this wet room thing working out for you?’ he said. ‘Wet yet?’
She elbowed him in the ribs.
‘Don’t be vulgar,’ she said.
‘Thought that was what you saw in me,’ he said. ‘Ah, right, I reckon . . . step back a bit in case the temperature’s wrong.’
They were drenched straight away in warm water, gushing from the jets that surrounded them. Jenna laughed with the suddenness of it and the delight of being here, naked, in this lovely room with this gorgeous naked man. His hair was plastered over his eyes, dripping down his face and he looked full of life and joy as he turned to her and cried, ‘I wasn’t expecting that.’
She twirled around in the hot, hard rain, letting the bullet-like drops attack every inch of her body. The pressure was firm enough to make her nipples tingle – it was almost a massage.
‘You’re definitely wet now, anyway,’ said Jason after watching her for a few seconds.
‘So are you. Where’s the shampoo?’
She found a neat row of luxury bathing products on a shelf set into the tiled wall but Jason caught her around her middle before she could uncap any of them. He pretended to bite into her neck, sucking off the water and growling. His big hands closed over her breasts.
‘Mmm,’ she said, shutting her eyes and pushing herself back against him.
‘Ever done it in a shower before?’ he murmured into her ear, nipping at the lobe.
‘Actually, I have,’ she said. ‘Not one like this, though. A teeny tiny cubicle. Nearly broke the door off. It was super uncomfortable and I slipped on some soap at one point.’
‘Better improve the experience for you, then,’ said Jason. ‘So you can forget all about that time.’
He spun her around so they pressed together, her breasts squashing into his taut chest, and kissed her. Rivulets of water flowed around their conjoined mouths and over Jenna’s closed eyelids, adding
another layer of sensation to the ravishment. Somehow it made it better. This was why people were romantic about kissing in the rain, she thought. It felt so good.
‘What’s this?’ he said, breaking off and reaching up to the shelf of products. ‘Willow Bark and Echinacea for luxurious volume and control? Who writes these descriptions? It’s just shampoo. Probably the same as what you get in Poundland.’
‘Probably,’ agreed Jenna, but she tilted her head back all the same, inviting him to massage the unguent into her hair. ‘Go on. Oh, it smells gorgeous.’
‘Not bad, I suppose,’ he said grudgingly, lathering it into Jenna’s scalp. The suds rolled off his fingers and down her neck, between her shoulder blades and breasts. Once Jason had finished treating her head to a perfect massage – just firm enough without becoming painful – he followed the clots of soap bubbles down her body, rubbing them into her skin when he found them.
The slippery-soft smoothness of her body seemed to intrigue him and he explored it with intent focus, his hands travelling up and down.
‘I’m jealous of this water,’ he said gruffly. ‘The way it gets to be all over you all at once. I want to be able to do that.’
‘You’re giving it a good try,’ said Jenna, and he was like some pleasure-giving octopus, his hands and mouth everywhere. ‘Is there any conditioner?’
He put back the shampoo and felt around for another bottle.
‘If Luxury Crème Rinse Solution is conditioner, then . . .?’
‘I think it must be.’
It was rich and thick, coating her hair heavily. Jason had to concentrate hard on working its traces out of her soaked tresses, but eventually the job was done.
‘Now I get to soap you,’ he said greedily, but she held up a finger.
‘Let me do your hair first,’ she said. ‘We need to do things properly.’
She loved Jason’s hair and how he had not succumbed to the local fashion of a skull-hugging razor crop. He had a fine head of chestnut brown locks that teetered on the border of being too long but never quite crossed it. Lately he had cultivated a neat goatee beard that gave him a devilish, rather buccaneering air she liked a lot.
Hearts and Diamonds Page 5
