by K A Sands
, Copyright © 2018 by K A Sands.
Stella is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Any and all Trademarks mentioned are acknowledged by the author.
Published in the United Kingdom by K A Sands.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Please contact the author at [email protected] regarding any enquiries.
Cover Image – nejron (stock image)
Cover Design – K A Sands. Image Copyright © 2018 by K A Sands.
Edits, Proofreading & Formatting – DeditS.
Stella
K A Sands
Also by K A Sands
Taylor, Book #0.5, The Razer Series.
Calling Time, Book #1, The Razer Series.
Ryder, Book #1.5, The Razer Series.
Changing Tides, Book #2, The Razer Series.
Coming Soon
Descent. M/M. Book #1. Duet. (August)
Ascent. M/M. Book #2. Duet.
Chasing Tricks. Book #3, The Razer Series. (Ben and Sophie)
Craving Truths, Book #4, The Razer Series. (Warren and Chrissie)
Dedication
For all those people who should have had a mother’s unconditional love, who should have been the apple of their eye, who were let down.
Your absence taught me more than you’ll ever know.
“What is hell? Hell is oneself.
Hell is alone, the other figures in it
Merely projections. There is nothing to escape from
And nothing to escape to. One is always alone.”
The Cocktail Party
T S Eliot
Playlist
Better This Way - Jake Isaac
Battle Cry - Imagine Dragons
Grace - Rag ‘n’ Bone Man
Cold - Maroon 5, Future
Little White Lies - Betsy
Shame - Hearts and Colors
Fire In Me - John Newman
Personal - HRVY
I Had Love for a Moment - Vian Izak
Revenge - Pink, Eminem
Please (acoustic) - Samantha Harvey
What If This Is All The Love You Ever Get? - Snow Patrol
Mercy - Shawn Mendes
Stella
It was time to stop fucking the pool boy.
I recognised the act for what it was. Desperation. A sad, lonely forty something divorcee looking for cheap thrills and comfort in all the wrong places.
Still, he’d been a good fuck, eager to please.
But it was time to go home. I wasn’t done yet, and the voice over the line confirmed it. I grinned as I tucked the last of my clothes into the small carry on and zipped the case closed.
I had unfinished business.
Old scores to settle once and for all.
Things to destroy.
Stella
“No. I can’t help you, Stella.”
“Why not? We’ve done business in the past have we not?” Anger curled inside me at his easy dismissal.
“This is not business. I have a truce with my son, by extension that truce is with Lucca too. The deal is fine if you have ninety grand for me, but the other? No.” Rubbing his chubby fingers across his cracked bottom lip, he grinned at me. It was unpleasant. Leering. “Besides, you have nothing I want.”
I raised my perfectly tweezed eyebrows at him and sat straighter in the chair, pushing my chest outwards. A brazen sexual movement, a reminder that a woman always had something a man wanted. Smirking, his eyes ogled my chest. The low-cut silk camisole I’d worn was not by accident. You see, Charlie could always be swayed with sex and I’d anticipated it would come to this.
He was a dirty old man, his favourite bartering tool was a woman, any woman, on her knees. I’d also deliberately not worn stockings. There was a reason Charlie had never been married, no woman could put up with his cruelty for long. Not many came back for seconds once they’d been under his rough hands.
I wasn’t your average woman.
Tucking my hair behind my ear, a coy move I used to my advantage, I said, “come now,” in a lowered voice, looking at him through fluttered lashes. “There must be something.” Uncrossing my legs, only to cross them in the other direction, I grinned along with the blatant Sharon Stone move of seduction.
The flash of skin had the desired effect and Charlie’s eyes glinted at me over the desk, his fist clenching at his mouth. He shoved his chair away from the desk, making space in front of him, spreading his thighs apart. God, he was so overweight I knew I was going to struggle to squeeze in there.
But I would. He had information I wanted, and I wasn’t beyond sucking him off to get my hands on it.
“Out!” he barked to his two burly bodyguards who’d come in behind me ten minutes earlier.
What they thought I was going to do to their boss was anyone’s guess, there was no need for the show of muscle. Charlie liked the power though. He lorded it over anyone he could, at any opportunity. He was wielding it that very minute.
Opening his suit jacket, the fat bastard made a show of unbuckling his belt then undoing his fly. I watched with barely concealed disgust as he wrestled his clothes from his bottom and dragged out his stiff little penis. I’d love to have said age had caught up with him, but I’d been in this position before and his cock had been just as underwhelming then too.
Where was my pool boy when I needed him? At least he’d had something decent to play with.
Standing, I shrugged my jacket from my shoulders because there was no way he was tainting the silk with any of his body fluids, and hooked it around the grimy chair I’d been sitting in. The dry cleaners would be the first port of call just as soon as I’d scrubbed his filth from my skin. Rounding the desk, I hitched my skirt to the tops of my thighs and folded into the small space between his parted legs.
He didn’t smell clean at all, my nose wrinkled at the stale sweat and the faint smell of piss, forcing me to breath as shallow as possible. I could put up with it for the little time I’d be on my knees.
“I’d say you were gagging for it, my dear,” he mocked as he smacked the head of his cock against my lips. “Look at you.”
I was gagging all right, but not for what I was undoubtedly about to get. Giggling like I couldn’t get enough of him, the only comfort was the knowledge this would be the last time I ever got on my knees for this man. Any man, if I had my way.
“Open up,” he snarled, “put your pretty fucking lips around me, bitch.” The insulting word washed over me, for I was indeed a bitch. We both knew it.
His hand came out lightening fast and yanked at my hair, pulling my head into his sweaty crotch, my hands bracing on the tops of his thighs for some control. The man may have had a small dick, but he knew how to punish with it, I had no illusions I was getting off lightly.
An ashy tasting thumb hooked into the corner of my mouth. “Open, now.”
I did, only to be stuffed with a pissy smelling cock and two more fingers. I fought the urge to throw up, knowing the gulping motion would come across as the result of me blowing him and nothing else. Truth was, I was close to hurling in his lap. The man was putrid.
“I’m gonna fuck that venomous mouth of yours, Stella. Then I’m gonna bend you over my desk and fuck your arse.” His fingers tightened around the strands of my long hair, nipping my skull. “That the price you’re willing to pay?”
Fingers left my mouth and he grabbed the other side of my head, his hips moving faster, his cock barely hit
ting the back of my throat. It would be a wonder if he got it up a second time to do what he promised.
Oh, what a sublime thought.
Feigning enjoyment, making all the right noises and moves, I dug my long fingernails into his legs. When I felt him tense, I was ready for it. In a surprising move, he pulled from my mouth and I watched disgustedly as his cum dribbled from the end of his cock, I wasn’t ready for the eruption when it splashed across my face and had to shut my eyes quickly, the sight pitiful.
“Get up,” he wheezed out.
There was no care to the words, just an order to obey. “I want that address, Charlie. I know you have it.” The fuck was annoying me now, I wanted out of that office and soon.
A strong hand whipped around my neck and forced me backwards against the edge of the desk, his other fumbling under my skirt, invasive fingers ripping at my thong. Kicking my feet apart, he gripped tighter, blunt nails digging into the flesh of my throat.
“After I’ve had a piece of your delicious arse. Be patient.”
Two hours later, I left Charlie’s office absolutely livid. The bastard had popped a Viagra and he’d used my body in the worst of ways, I ached all over. While he’d pushed his cock in my arse he’d attempted to shove his whole hand up my pussy, almost managed it too, the fucker. With four chubby fingers banging in and out of me while he bent me over the desk, he’d fucked me raw from behind. He’d been crazed. Once he’d emptied himself inside me, he’d held me down by the back of the neck and used his mouth on me. His teeth tore at the soft skin of my cheek and when I felt blood trickle down the back of my thigh, I gave up struggling.
Another hour of punishment I took after the bite, where he almost choked me unconscious as he turned me over on the desk and had his way with me again. The Viagra did its job, he stayed hard and didn’t relent, didn’t ease up, taking longer to come each time. He had been brutal. Fingers and cock had been in every orifice and he’d battered my insides for a full forty minutes. My eyes had watched that clock on the wall the whole time, hoping the wanker’s heart would give out.
I could feel the bruises around my neck rising up. It was going to take more than some ibuprofen and a hot bath to put me to rights again. For once I felt disgusted with myself and the lengths I went to.
But I’d got what I’d went for despite being repulsed with myself for my methods. I’d been in that position with Charlie before, sex was the only way to win with him. I vowed I wouldn’t ever be gracing his door again, no matter what I wanted.
Leaving on unsteady feet, my bag ninety grand lighter, but its contents priceless, I gave a short laugh when the door banged closed behind me. I didn’t need the old man anymore.
Stella
Two weeks.
Two weeks I’d slinked around Brighton, slinked around Beaufort. Most of those two weeks were sat in a dingy coffee house down the street from Ryder Laurent’s new club. The itchy wig and the dowdy clothes had been worth it, even the weak coffee I’d drunk copious amounts of became bearable when I finally found what I was looking for.
A way to cause some havoc.
The disguises had been necessary. While I didn’t think anyone had realised I was back, I wouldn’t have put it past Charlie to have let it be known. However, I went about my business with relative ease and felt confident enough neither my ex-husband nor my son was any the wiser. Didn’t really matter if they did or not, they’d be all too aware soon enough.
“So, two deliveries?”
The driver I’d managed to allure with mock interest into having a coffee with me, grinned. “This is not a date, huh?”
I shook my head. Poor guy was hopeful. “I have a proposition for you.”
His eyebrows lifted in a show of interest as he stirred his spoon around inside the chipped mug. “I’m listening.”
“A hundred grand.”
“That’s a lot of cash,” he whistled. It was, and that kind of money could get you anything.
Almost.
“It is. Are you interested?”
“Well,” he looked thoughtful for a second before smiling. “Yeah. As long as you’re not asking for someone’s head, I think I would be.”
I laughed. A hundred grand did not get my husband’s head on a pike unfortunately. “I need something delivered to the club down the road.”
“Illegal?”
God, this guy was a treat. Who paid that kind of money for something that was above board? “Maybe you don’t need to know the details.”
“Maybe you’re right.” He looked around the room then back at me, moving his head closer. “A hundred grand?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re not part of the deal?”
“No.”
“Shame, that.”
For him surely, for me, not so much. I wasn’t getting on my knees for another man or another favour again as long as I was breathing.
He clucked his tongue before taking a sip of his drink and I noticed his nails were pristine, which struck me as incredibly odd, considering his profession. When he caught me looking, he smirked.
“I wear gloves. I don’t like putting dirty fingers in hot, wet holes.”
All I could do was roll my eyes, “a man who cares,” I said, then smirked right on back.
“I could show you exactly how caring I can be if you gave me an hour. Best orgasm you’ll ever have.”
It was my turn to arch an eyebrow. “Just one?”
The guy was older than me, looked fit enough to haul me around if that’s what he so desired, didn’t have that paunch around his gut like a lot of men got when they hit a certain age. He looked after himself, was plain to see, even under the heavy rain jacket he was still wearing. His eyes twinkled with mischief, but his arrogance turned me off completely. He screamed control and that wasn’t something I handed off lightly, not for a nobody anyway.
“Not gonna happen,” I sighed.
“No harm in trying though?”
We sat in silence for a few minutes, he was clearly thinking if he tried hard enough he’d get between my legs eventually. It wasn’t why I’d collared him. I had business needing doing and he’d presented the perfect opportunity.
“A hundred grand,” I mentioned again.
Nodding his head, he placed the mug back onto the scarred formica table top then clasped his hands together in front of him. “Spill.”
“Who takes your delivery?”
“Boss man, guy that owns the place. Mr Laurent is on the delivery sheets, so I guess that’s him,” he shrugged. “There’s a kid that helps, has some shit inked onto his face, looks ridiculous if you ask me but he’s a nice enough fella.”
“Perfect.” This was falling into line way too easily, and I never trusted when things did. “What day are they both there?”
“Thursdays. Always Thursdays.”
“All right then. Here’s the plan…”
Half an hour later I’d left the man, who’d eventually imparted his name when I’d handed him the envelope of cash. Gary was sitting ten grand richer and with a rendezvous point for the following week. It was tricky, I was trusting him more than I would a stranger but there was nothing else for it.
If Ryder and Gripp thought they’d seen the last of me, they were sadly mistaken.
* * *
I fucking hated this village. The only satisfaction I got when I arrived in Beaufort, was driving past the vacant lot of land that Laura Hamilton’s house once stood on. She may have lost her place, but I’d lost an ally, even if I did only give Adam brief seconds of my memories to ponder upon. I refused to think of my actions that night. What was done was done. I couldn’t stand to watch another man in my life be swept up in the woman I hated, so I’d made sure it wasn’t a problem going forward.
Adam had been happy enough to watch her from a distance for years, making sure the bitch wasn’t going to put him behind bars. But when he’d finally come face to face with her, I’d seen what I should have from the beginning.
He loved her. Still.
There had been no more room in my life for him. He’d become obsolete.
And now, in this stupid goddamned wig, listening to the waitress in the café on the pier, I couldn’t find a lick of remorse. The guilt I’d initially felt was long gone, had fallen away easily, substituted with an anger I found difficult to contain.
Lucca and his ‘family’ were going to feel my wrath - painfully - and for many years to come. My ship was not sinking without victims.
“Sitting in, or to take away?”
I was nudged back to my surroundings by the waitress’s question. I’d been in a few times over the past two weeks, always unrecognisable to those who would know me, but I’d never seen the woman I loathed with a passion, until now.
“In, please.” My sugary voice was well practised, sounding sincere. “It’s a tad chilly outside today.”
“That it is. Find a seat, I’ll bring it over.”
Making sure to leave some tables between myself and the object of my hate, I kept her close enough, so I could hear what she was saying while she talked into her phone.
She was alone, a tall drink and a plate of pastries in front of her. She also had a pink notebook open and was tapping an obnoxious glitter pen on the clean page. It made my teeth hurt, the noise of the tap, tap, tap.
Wedding plans. I almost puked in my mouth thinking about her and Lucca tying the knot. He had one wife, and the woman off to my right was not it. I pulled a battered paperback from my cheap, second hand store bag, some soppy romance novel I had no interest in, just another prop, and feigned interest in the words on the page while my concentration went on Lucca’s piece of skirt.
“There’s not much left to do,” she said, and I wondered if she was talking to my ex or that ballsy sister of hers. “Rehearsal is after lunch.”
