by Nicola Jane
We don’t bother with towels. Fifteen falls onto the bed and begins to rub herself. I watch as I rip open the condom wrapper, fuck she’s hot. I grab my cell and snap a photo of her while her eyes are closed in ecstasy and then I crawl up between her legs and line myself up with her entrance. Fifteen wraps her leg around my waist and pulls me forward so that I’m easing into her. She groans in pleasure and wraps her hands around my head, trying to pull me in for a kiss. Another no, I distract her by kissing up her neck instead. This pacifies her enough and once I’m as far as I can go without making her uncomfortable, I begin to pull back out. I take her hands in my own and pin them above her head, I need to take control or she’ll have her mouth attached to mine in no time. Once I’m satisfied that she’s secured beneath me; I begin to pump in and out, my pace hard and fast. Sweat beads on my brow and chest, my muscles were already on fire after my fight and this is my second fuck of the night. I squeeze my eyes shut and picture Ella, her brown hair, her gorgeous plump lips, her…my image of Ella disappears and instead I’m staring at the image of number ten. It’s her dark bouncy hair and her pink lips that fill my mind and before I know it, I’m growling through an intense orgasm. My movements are jerky and the warm feeling that courses through me is something I haven’t experienced before. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” repeats number fifteen, biting her lip between her teeth. She shudders and bucks off the bed, her own orgasm controlling her body. I slow my movements, panting hard as my heart rate beats out of my chest. I role off of number fifteen and flop onto my back. Where the hell did that image come from, I must have looked at the girl for all of twenty seconds and yet I had the perfect picture of her in my head. I can only cum when I picture Ella, it’s always been Ella.
I wipe the sweat from my brow onto the back of my hand. The bed shifts beside me and number fifteen curls into my side, her breasts pressing against my ribs. “Wow,” she mutters, sleepily. I sit up, putting some distance between us and I reach for my Levi’s. “What are you doing?” she asks.
“There’s a party out there. You need to get your shit together and get gone.” I make sure my voice is cold and clear. Fifteen sits up, not at all bothered by her naked body.
“Seriously?” she asks.
“And don’t think of spreading rumors, I have a photograph of you fingering yourself, it isn’t pretty.”
She dives from the bed, rage on her face, “Are you being serious?” She yells, grabbing her underwear and pulling it on, “You’re just gonna kick me out of here?”
“Yeah, I don’t revisit. Thanks for a great time though and remember what I said, no rumors.” I pull on my T-Shirt and when my head pops through the hole, fifteen is waiting, her hand stings my cheek as she hits me hard. I hiss and then smile. It’s all part of it, I’ve lost count of the amount of slaps I’ve had, in fact it became so regular that we started adding an extra point on; so fifteen has become sixteen, bonus.
I leave the room so that sixteen can get dressed and make her exit with a little more dignity. I find Anton at the bar. He smirks at me, “Sixteen,” I say, fist bumping him. “She got the extra point.”
“Thought she looked like a whore,” smiles Anton, offering me a whiskey which I take gratefully.
“What’s the deal with number ten?” I ask casually. “Why ten?”
Anton thinks for a moment and then laughs, “Oh right, she was a last minute. My original ten couldn’t make the party and so I had the card spare. I happened to pass the table and spotted her. She’s maybe a twelve at a push but beggars can’t be choosers. Her friends weren’t too bad either, I regret not spotting them earlier.”
“Man, you’re too harsh with your scoring, she was easily an eighteen, maybe higher,” I mutter, knocking my drink back.
“Oh, do I detect a note of attraction?” mocks Anton.
“God no, I’m just saying I thought ten was a little low.”
“Is that her?” asks Anton, nodding to the other side of the small bar. I nod. I watch as she orders herself a drink, a rum and coke. “Can you manage a third? It’s getting to the end of the month and let’s not forget who is winning this time,” says Anton, grinning mischievously.
“Well sometimes you need to win, it’s not fair if I take the glory every time.” I’m lying of course, I’m hugely competitive, especially when it comes to me and Anton. We’ve been friends since we were kids. I stuck up for him in a fight, not that he needed it, his family name was enough to scare anyone away.
I had to win this time; my new Rolex was at stake. It had been a present to myself after my tenth win in a row.
“I tell you what, I’ll give you thirty points if you win her tonight.”
I glance at Anton, dubious of his intentions, he never gives me extra points. “What do you get out of it?” I ask.
“Nothing, I know what that watch means to you. I have a heart yah know.”
I scowl, Anton doesn’t have a heart, but we’re like brothers and so I believe what he’s saying. Thirty points would put us on an even score, I’ve been lacking this month because I’d been training so hard for this fight. I hold my hand out and we shake on it. “Thirty-five if you get her to agree to both of us,” he adds with a wink. “You’re right, she’s worth more than ten.”
I walk away, shaking my head and laughing. I stand close behind number Ten. I’m practically stuck to her back and when she leans over the bar to speak to the bartender, her ass presses against my cock and I close my eyes. After starving myself of sex for two weeks in preparation for the fight, I definitely could go all night.
Ten glances back over her shoulder, it’s sexy and alluring. When she sees its me, she scowls. “Tag.”
“Ten. You didn’t follow me.”
“Was I supposed to? And my name is Lucy, not ten.”
“Yes Ten, you were supposed to. You missed out. I had a red-hot bubble bath, rose petals and a four-poster bed with your name on it.”
“My actual name or number ten?” she queries and I smirk. She’s got a smart mouth, I like it. “And I hate roses.”
“I’ll call my guy, get them removed. What do you like, I’ll fill the room?”
“My god your smooth,” she mutters, and then turns back to the bartender.
“You’re making the most of the free bar,” I say, noting that it’s her second rum and coke in less than five minutes.
“Don’t have a free bar if you don’t want people to use it,” she says coldly. She moves around me and I follow her. She stops near her friends who are huddled on a couch around a cell phone. “Why are you following me?”
“I’m not following you. It’s my party, I’m mingling.”
“If you get any closer, you’ll be up my ass.”
I wiggle my brows and she gives me a disgusted look, “You didn’t tell me your favorite flower.”
“You could fill that room with gold bars and I wouldn’t go into it with you. Goodbye Tag.”
“I doubt that very much,” I mutter, but she doesn’t hear.
Instead she turns back to her friends. “I’m gonna go home, this party is boring,” she says, “And Noah will probably be home by now.”
“Who’s Noah?” I ask. Her friends watch the exchange as Ten turns back to me.
“Will you please go away,” she hisses, “You are so irritating.”
“You’re an ice queen,” I retort, “I was being friendly.”
“No, you were trying to get me into your room by flashing your cash. Not all girls melt at a cheap bunch of rose petals and not all girls drop their panties at good looks and tattoos. I have a boyfriend so back off.”
I hold my hands up and take a step back. Not many girls knock me back and I’m surprised how much it turns me on. Ten doesn’t realize that she’s made herself a target because I have thirty-five points riding on her ass and I’m sure with a little convincing, I can get Anton to raise the stakes.
CHAPTER THREE
Lucy
I unlock my apartment door and step inside. “Hel
lo,” I call out. Noah doesn’t answer just like he didn’t answer my texts asking if he was home yet. I drop my purse and my shoes by the door and go straight for the kitchen. I need water before tonight’s alcohol makes a reappearance.
The silence is shattered two minutes later when the door flies open and Noah stumbles inside. He almost trips over my purse and shoes, despite the fact that they were to the side, “Fuck Lucy, move your shit!” He yells, picking up my shoes and throwing them across the room. I place my glass in the basin and take a deep breath. There is always a risk that Noah gets like this if he’s had too much to drink.
“Did you have a good night?” I ask, turning to face him as he stumbles towards the kitchen.
“No, Jackson Preston was on my ass all night about a case I didn’t know a fuck about because my assistant is fucking useless,” he growls. “I looked like an idiot, I’m gonna fire that bitch on Monday!”
I reach for his tie and loosen it slightly, pressing a hand to his chest to steady him. “I’m sure you didn’t, you’re the best lawyer I know.”
“And how many do you know Lucy?” he hisses. “Did you call my mother to speak with her about the dress situation for tomorrow night?” he adds. I inwardly cringe, I forgot. “Don’t tell me you forgot again!”
“I was crazy busy at work today, it slipped my mind.” Noah closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, I step back, knowing that he might lose his shit any second.
“Busy at playing party planning?” he growls, “But you found time to see your friends.”
“I’ll call her first thing. If we clash then I’ll find something else,” I say brightly, “It’s not the end of the world.”
It was the wrong thing to say and Noah’s hand strikes me hard across the face. “It is the end of the fucking world if you make me look like an idiot Lucy. It’s important and you know it is. This awards evening has been planned for weeks and as usual you leave everything to the last minute.”
I grip my cheek; it burns and I bite back a response about visible bruising. “Sorry Noah.”
“Sorry,” he repeats, adding a menacing laugh, “Come on Lucy, that’s not like you.” He’s baiting me, he always does this when he’s drunk. He grips a handful of material on my top, pulling me towards him, “You disgust me,” he hisses into my face.
“You’re overreacting Noah, lets go to bed and talk about this in the morning.” His hand moves to my hair and he grips a handful at the base of my head. “Please Noah.”
“Please Noah, I’m sorry Noah. Always so fucking sorry. Well you’d better show me how sorry you are,” he growls, ripping my top open. I shove him away, trying to make a run for it but he’s too quick and he gets a grip of my hair again. This time he pulls it hard so that my head tilts back. I slap his face hard, hoping this brings him around but instead it angers him more and he bites my arm, drawing blood. I cry out, slapping him again but this time using my nails to scratch him.
“Stop!” I yell. I pull free again and run so fast that my feet can’t keep up, I slip on the tiles and crash to the floor, hitting the side of my head hard. I feel dizzy for a few seconds and Noah takes full advantage, he’s on top of me, his weight crushing me. He holds my face against the floor and then flips me over so that I’m on my stomach. I try desperately to scramble to my knees but he presses his hand into the center of my back. He tugs at my jeans but the button holds tight, making it hard for him to get them down without releasing my arms. I know that as soon as he does; I’m going to push to my knees and escape. A loud bang on the door startles us both. I still, panting. Noah crouches down so that he’s closer to my ear. “Don’t fucking move,” he growls. I wait for him to get off me and go to answer the door before I pull myself up from the floor.
When Noah opens the door his father pushes his way in. He glances between us suspiciously and I know that he sees it, the resemblance in the pair of them is too similar for him not to see what this is. He presses his lips together in a tight line and then turns to face Noah. “I was on my way home and realized that I didn’t leave the keys with you. You’ll get in earlier than me tomorrow.” He holds out a large bunch of keys and Noah takes them.
“Thanks.”
“How are you Lucy?” he asks.
“I’m good. I was just leaving actually,” I say, picking up the shoes that Noah had thrown across the room.
“No, Lucy, wait,” says Noah stepping forward. His father places a hand on his chest, halting Noah from approaching me. “Lucy please.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow Noah,” I say, adding a fake smile and grabbing my purse. Noah works every weekend so he won’t be home all day tomorrow. I’ll return once he’s gone.
I walk for ten minutes. Luckily our apartment is just a short walk from central London and I make my way to my usual hotel. I always end up here if Noah gets a little crazy, it’s friendly and discreet. The night receptionist smiles when she sees me and taps away on her computer. “Room ten is available,” she says.
I hand over my credit card and she swipes it in her machine. Room ten, how ironic that the number ten keeps popping up today. Once she has my card details, she hands me the key card, “I’ll arrange for some nightwear to be brought up.” I nod gratefully and head towards the elevator.
I have a great sleep, one where I dream of the mysterious Tag from last night. I wake to an annoying buzzing sound. Reaching for my purse I fish around inside until I find my cell. Opening one eye I see Lucille’s name and groan. If I ignore the call she’ll get pissed and I’m counting on her company tonight at this ridiculous awards ceremony.
“Lucille, good morning,” I say as brightly as I can manage.
“Do you need a make-up artist for this evening?” she asks, straight to the point like always.
“No, I can do my make-up,” I say confused.
“I’m assuming you are not in your apartment because Noah turned hulk on you last night,” she says and I roll my eyes.
“How do you know I’m not in my apartment?”
“Because I’m standing outside of it knocking on your door and I didn’t hear your cell buzzing when I called.”
“Maybe I met a hunky man to rescue me. What time is it anyway?”
“It’s ten. Did you sort out your dress? I heard that Noah’s mother is wearing dusky pink,” she says, “How very nineties,” she adds and I smile. Lucille may be a stuck-up cow but she has my back when it comes to Noah and his family. She’s the only one that knows how Noah can be when he’s drunk. She knows the signs because Wyatt, her husband, is the same and so when she questioned me one time, I didn’t have the strength to lie.
“I need a dress,” I groan.
“I’ll come and get you, the usually spot?” she asks.
“Yes,” I sigh, “Thanks Lucille.”
Twenty minutes later I step from the hotel and Lucille is waiting across the street. Her designer shades firmly in place even though it’s a cold day, her silk scarf wrapped loosely around her neck and her long, oversized coat hanging from her shoulders. She looks every bit of class. “Wow, nice,” she says, taking my chin in her cold hand and turning my face to the side, “You will need a make-up artist.”
“I need a new boyfriend,” I mutter.
“Hmm, I don’t see that being an easy break-up.” She’s right, mine and Noah’s family are very close, despite Noah’s mother hating me for reasons I have yet to discover, our parents often speak of a wedding for us but I think that has more to do with two rich families linking together rather than anything love related.
“Right, lets head to Bond street,” says Lucille, linking arms with me and dragging me in that direction.
I hate dress shopping. I’ve had to put up with it since my mother married my step-father over ten years ago. He’s always gone to fancy parties and charity functions where we were expected to present ourselves a certain way. My mother loves all that comes with the rich life. She spends her days shopping and meeting her lunch club friends.
I grab
the first dress I see in a small boutique. It’s the second shop we’ve been in and Lucille gives me one of her disapproving looks. “It’s nice,” I argue, holding it up.
“It is nice but you’re just rushing it. You should look at some others first.”
“I don’t need to; I’ve found this one.” I take it to the counter and the young sales lady looks at the dress and then at me.
“Will you be trying it on first?” she asks, arching her brow.
“No, it’s exactly my size,” I bite back. I roll my eyes and Lucille glares at me.
“Try the dress on Lucy,” she hisses, taking the dress from the counter and marching over to the fitting room. I huff like a sulky teenager and stomp after her. Lucille insists on being in the small changing room and I know it’s so she can check my body for bruises, it’s because she cares; but still.
I was right, the dress fits me perfectly. The black material clings to my curves and with the right bra, my breasts will look amazing spilling over the top. It runs down to my ankles and then fans out in a fish tail style so that there is a small train behind me. Lucille steps back and looks me up and down, “Actually, it looks amazing,” she says with a smile.
“I told you. I always look great in cocktail dresses,” I say, spinning slowly and checking the back in the mirror.
I place the dress on the counter again and smile smugly, “Fits like a glove,” I say and the girl returns a tight smile.
“Fantastic, I’ll just wrap that for you.”
By the time I get home I’ve reluctantly agreed to Lucille sending over her hair and make-up girl. I unlock the apartment and step inside to find the apartment covered in flowers. Vases on every surface full of pink lilies, my favorite flower. Noah appears from the bedroom, his face forlorn and full of regret. “I didn’t think you’d ever come home,” he mutters.
