Drop Dead Dirty

by West, Jade

  “You don’t have to worry about that sounding off from my mouth,” he said, and I hoped so. I was already counting on trusting him pretty damn hard, just as I had in my teens.

  “So, what do you think?” I pushed. “Think you might be interested in being my brand new sales executive? All set for a new career shift up?”

  He shrugged. “Like I said before, I’m not all that set for London. I’m pretty settled in this part of the world.”

  “So’s Maisie on paper,” I told him. “But maybe there’s a few of you destined for new horizons.”

  “I guess we’ll have to see how’s she’s looking,” he said. “Maybe I’ll have to give it some thought alongside her.”

  I couldn’t hold back my regular smirk, feeling pretty self-assured as I weighed up the potential. Maybe this really would be it – both Ryan and Maisie alongside me in city life, Freddie as a boy set for a fantastic new school life, soaking up a whole different world.

  And more.

  So much more.

  Maybe another baby on the way. Soon. As soon as Maisie would let me fill her up. All of us loving our new version of home, rich in a vivid new reality.

  “I hope you know how much Sawyer is threatening to see you out of this place,” Ryan said, and I raised a brow. “He says you’ve got no place here. That you’re pretty much banned from his neighbourhood.”

  “He’s banning me from his own little town, is he?” I said with a laugh. “I’m sure he thinks I’m shitting myself.”

  “He’s going to fight you to the limit,” he said. “Don’t underestimate his bullshit though, seriously.”

  I wasn’t underestimating his bullshit, and never would, but scared of his bullshit I was not, and never would be.

  “His son is a cracking little lad,” I countered. “I’m so glad to have met him.”

  Ryan nodded. “Heard from a load of people that he’s a bright little spark. Hopefully Sawyer isn’t going to trash your dealings with him.”

  I’d certainly contemplated the possibility.

  “I’ll do my utmost to build the best bridges I can with the little guy,” I said. “Seemed to get off to a decent start last weekend. The pleasure was all mine.”

  I told him all about it, about the big wheel and Freddie’s smart questions. The way he was so quick to put the pieces together about what needed doing with the whizz sticks.

  “Sounds damn good fun,” Ryan said. “Kids can be really fucking special, can’t they?”

  He wasn’t wrong there.

  I was picturing the prospect of filling my Maisie Moore up with a fresh new little soul when the buzz of a message whirred in my pocket. I pulled out my phone and it was her pinging, her name flashing bright on screen.

  Freddie’s in bed, she said. Kate said she’d pop over to sit with him if you wanted to head out for a walk. A stroll. Whatever. I’ve got a few hours free.

  I wasn’t expecting that. My smirk was bright at the prospect.

  “What is it?” Ryan asked as my smile became apparent. “Is that your Maisie calling you over? Booty call now the boy’s in bed?”

  “She’s got a few hours spare,” I said. “But I’m not planning on bailing on you until we’re done with the catch up.”

  He shook his head and swigged back his beer. “No worries about that, Kent. I’ll head over to the Pitcher. The game’s on screen anyway.”

  “Please do think about what I said,” I told him after swigging mine back too. “I really could do with you on my team. I’ll need the loyalty and the talent when the inventions start flowing.”

  “I’ll think about it,” he said, and slapped my arm goodbye.

  On my way, I replied to Maisie as I’d waved him off down the road. Keep an eye out through the window, I’ll be ten mins max.

  Those ten minutes felt like a long fucking time coming. That’s how desperate I was to get my hands on her.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Maisie

  Kate was well and truly settled for the evening by the time I was ready to meet Ollie. She looked totally relaxed, flicking through a magazine on her lap on the sofa while the TV flashed away on low volume.

  “I’ll have my phone if Fred wakes up,” I said for the hundredth time. “Really, don’t feel bad about reaching out if you need to.”

  She waved my words aside without even raising her eyes from the mag. “Go. Enjoy yourself. I want to hear all about the Kent effect when you get back in please. That can be my payment.”

  I couldn’t sit still to wait for his arrival, buzzing too much with the thought of getting here. Ten minutes max he’d said, so he’d be on the approach any minute.

  Crap, how slowly those seconds passed by.

  There was no doubt about it, I really was heading back into teenage infatuation territory. My palms felt clammy, my heart racing – and that’s without the flutter of want between my legs. Yep, the flutter down there was really damn racing.

  I was hovering in the hallway peering out at the garden path when I heard Kate chuckling from the living room.

  “I love seeing you like this,” she said. “True love runs deep. I just hope I manage to meet someone who makes me even half as loved up and excited one day.”

  I shot her a smile. “It’s been a long time coming, but worth the wait. I swear, it’s worth every single second I spent without him, just to enjoy these hours I’m enjoying.”

  She gave me a tut. “You’ve been reading those romance novels in the bath again, haven’t you? You sound like you’re the sweet maiden awaiting her prince, with the beautiful poetry dripping off her tongue.”

  I laughed. “I’m not exactly a sweet maiden, not where Oliver Kent is concerned, believe me.”

  And I wasn’t. I wasn’t a sweet maiden at all where Oliver Kent was concerned.

  I was the dirty wench wanting his corruption. The horny little bitch desperate for him to take me. And I couldn’t shake it off. Not for a heartbeat.

  Every night in bed I was craving the video call horniness, desperate to rub myself to a decent climax before I’d even think of drifting off to sleep.

  Yep. Times were changing in my world now Oliver Kent was back in it.

  I tugged my dress down enough to make sure my cleavage was on decent display for his arrival, bouncing my hair up fresh in the mirror.

  Any minute. He really had to be with me in any minute.

  Sure enough, he was.

  I saw him beyond the fence as he approached, and was set to burst out and greet him. I was in the open doorway as he made his way up the garden path, waving goodbye to Kate as I stepped on out and rushed up to him. I threw my arms around his neck, and he was waiting, well prepared to grab me – his hands landing tight on my waist and holding firm.

  “Good evening, beautiful,” he whispered, and pressed his lips to mine, and I was right there, smiling against his mouth, kiss kiss kissing right back.

  “Good evening, gorgeous,” I said.

  Kate was standing in the doorway, giving us a wave and closing up the door behind me before I’d even realised I’d left it open.

  Excitement didn’t even truly come close.

  It was the most natural move in creation to fall into position next to Mr Gorgeous and slip my hand into his.

  “So, I have you for a few hours?” he asked, and I nodded. “Tell me, what would you most like to do with them?”

  I had plenty of ideas.

  I’m sure my mischievous smile must have clued him up on some of them. I beamed it up at him along with the faintest little giggle as we stepped out onto the path.

  “You really are hoping to be my dirty girl this evening,” he said, with a smirk right back at me. “I can feel it in the air.”

  I could feel a lot of things in the air. The night was glorious, fresh with a gentle summer breeze. I loved the way the line of oaks rustled and swayed, silhouetted against the moonlight at the bottom of the park.

  The thought of heading into Much Arlock high street at the he
ight of Friday night drinking wasn’t all that thrilling. I could imagine Rob downing pints with his idiot drunk friends, keeping an eye out for Ollie and the opportunity to cause trouble. I could also imagine the town gossips staring out of pub windows and making a note of us passing by.

  No. I didn’t want that.

  I did want Oliver Kent though. I wanted him so bad I could hardly waste another minute.

  I looked on up at him as we kept our pace along the path. His features were bold in the moonlight, his stubble well-groomed enough to match his posh suit.

  I wanted to smell him. Taste him. Feel how hard he’d truly been working. Because he had. I had no doubt whatsoever he’d been busy working hard all week.

  “Which way are we heading?” he asked as we reached the top of the park path.

  It was a clear choice. Left to the domesticity of the street routes into town. Right to the grass and the park and the row of swaying oaks.

  “How about a bit of wildness?” I pushed. “You, me and the trees?”

  “I always like a bit of wildness,” he said, and his tone was brimming with want. Just like mine. “I hope you’re meaning to dance with daring,” he said as he led me onto the grass. “Believe me, Maisie Moore, if you tempt me I’ll take you, regardless of how many of the Much Arlock population have their eyes on us at the time.”

  And there it was. Another shiver of old fantasies darting between us.

  His hand brushing its way slowly up my thigh while in the backseat of his mum’s car. Him coaxing my clit while she was chatting away oblivious about her work day.

  So much risk… so much excitement…

  I couldn’t hold back the way it rose afresh in me, my fingers squeezing his tight as we passed the skate ramp.

  “I quite fancy a dance with daring,” I whispered, and tugged him toward me.

  This time it was me whose mouth sought his out and whose tongue hunted his down.

  It took less than two seconds flat before his fingers twisted in my mane of loose hair and gripped hard.

  “I told you I’d take you,” he hissed between kisses. “I wasn’t fucking joking.”

  I let out a groan as he pressed me up against the nearby climbing frame, the rungs pressing tight to my back.

  I’d been here so often. So many damn days walking right through this place with its usual thrum of mothers with kids. And I loved it. I’d always loved it, but this was different.

  Wild.

  Dirty.

  Free.

  “You’re going to be mine in this fucking place,” he told me, and pinned me hard. “I don’t give a fuck who the fuck is here to stumble on us, Maisie, it’s you and me. Just like it always was. You and me playing it fucking dirty.”

  I shouldn’t.

  I really damn well shouldn’t do this here.

  I’d never recover from this kind of gossip in a thousand years, but the night was looming free and the breeze was a shudder and I wanted it. Holy shit, how I wanted it.

  Holy shit, how I wanted him.

  “I’ve been craving you so much this week,” I whispered. “Seriously, Ollie, I can’t get enough of you. I never could.”

  His one hand pinned my wrists against the climbing frame rungs, his other slid up under my skirt. He used his thigh to spread mine, and pinned me harder, grinding.

  “This is my dirty little Maisie Moore,” he said, and his voice was a growl. “This is the girl who stole my fucking soul.”

  I only hoped I was the girl who would keep his soul, from now until evermore. The teenage heartbreak was still right there inside me, bright in my memories. The intensity of round two was building and building, so much more vivid with every passing minute beside him.

  Irresistible.

  So damn irresistible.

  “You’re the boy who stole mine too,” I told him. “You stole every bit of me, I swear.”

  “And now I’m finally the man who knows what the fuck he’s capable of doing with you.” His eyes were filth. Pure filth in the darkness. “I’m going to take every fucking thing that body of yours has to offer me, sweetheart.”

  I bucked against his grind, my arms pinned tight to the bars. This really was the man Oliver. The full, powerful, mature Oliver Kent. The strength in this version was a whole other league to the boy who’d snared my heart.

  “Take me now,” I said. “Please, Ollie, take me now.”

  “You asked for it,” he said, and tugged my dress down at the cleavage. My tits sprung free of the fabric, pale and ripe, rising and falling in my bra.

  He dipped his face and lapped at my skin. Hungry.

  Shit, how I whimpered, begging for more.

  “I’ll give you fucking more,” he said and yanked my bra down.

  I was exposed. Totally exposed. My nipples puckered really hard, and he teased them, fingers tugging and twisting and driving me wild.

  “Yes!” I cried, and tipped my head back, lost to everything but this crazy horny woman inside me.

  I couldn’t hold back the desperate moan as he sucked at my nipples. My heart was thumping, eyes closed to everything, pussy grinding as hard as I could manage against his thigh.

  “Better keep the fucking noise down if you want to keep the gossips at bay,” he hissed, and there was that smirk again, catching the moonlight.

  I nodded, smirking back myself as he let go of my pinned arms, dropped his hands to his belt and pulled it loose.

  I felt like a wanting slut, my tits pale in the moonlight, nipples proud and dark, and my pussy aching for him. Aching for his freed-up cock.

  “You’ll come quietly for me like good fucking girl,” he said, and flipped me without warning.

  Hell, the rails of the climbing frame were cold against my bare tits. He lifted my skirt to my hips and tore the scrap of lace knickers free from my hungry pussy, and I felt so dirty. So fucking dirty.

  “Fuck me,” I whispered, twisting my face back to his. “Please, Ollie. Just fuck me.”

  “My fucking pleasure,” he said, and shunted balls deep in one solid thrust.

  Holy shit, how it took my breath.

  He was brutal. Really brutal. So brutal I grunted every time I slammed against the climbing frame, my hands gripping hard.

  His hand snaked between my thighs and rubbed my clit hard enough that I flinched and groaned, but hell how I wanted it. Hell, how I wanted it that rough.

  “Come fucking quietly,” he growled in my ear. “There are people by the oaks. I can hear them.”

  I held my breath as his cock slid in and out of me, straining to hear them too, and sure enough there was laughter. Distant laughter.

  Shit, how horrendously dirty I felt. A filthy little minx driven insane by the Oliver Kent effect.

  I wriggled, planning to bail on our dirty spectacle and hope for an easy getaway, but Ollie didn’t ease up, not even a muscle. He kept me held tight, thumping his way in deeper.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he said, and that smirk was audible. “Choke my dick with that hungry little cunt and keep the fucking noise down.”

  I closed my eyes. Split in two. Good girl and bad girl fighting in one filthy brain.

  Bad girl won, of course.

  Bad girl would always win with Oliver Kent’s cock inside me.

  I tried to steady my breathing, working my hips nice and fast and pinning my bottom lip between my teeth. His fingers were expert, working me just fucking right, and I hoped the shadows would be generous enough to keep us hidden from passers-by.

  Just for a few minutes. Please, hell, just a few more minutes.

  “I fucking love you, Maisie Moore,” he breathed into my ear, and that was it… I exploded. Exploded in silence. Straining with every scrap of reservation I could manage.

  I gripped the life out of that climbing frame and cursed with no breath, consumed by the way he bucked and exploded right along with me.

  And there we were.

  Still and breathless, collapsed against a red painted climbing
frame on a Much Arlock playground while footsteps passed us by.

  I didn’t move an inch until the footsteps had long faded to nothing, and he was waiting, his smile all set to press to my cheek.

  “Good girl,” he laughed. “You did a great job with the silence. Very impressive.”

  I couldn’t hold back a stupid smile of my own, shaking my head as I pulled myself back together and smoothed my clothes back to some semblance of respectable.

  “Jeez, Ollie,” I said. “You really do bring the minx out of me. The gossips would have a bloody field day, honestly. They’d never let it go.”

  His hand was back in mine in a flash, guiding me back towards the oak trees.

  “Another good reason why London is the best location for a filthy pair like us,” he said. “Not a gossip in sight.”

  With that my heart started pounding to a different tune.

  I stared up at the oaks with a smile, savouring the moment.

  Hell knows, I might be missing them soon.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Oliver

  Fucking Maisie Moore against a playground climbing frame on a full moon Friday night wasn’t something I figured we’d be diving into. Not with the local gossip population sniffing out for us. But I didn’t regret it. Not for a filthy second.

  I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat, regardless of the consequences. Unfortunately, for Maisie Moore, her general life responsibilities seemed to feel a little more restrictive.

  That didn’t mean she hadn’t enjoyed it as damn well much as I had though.

  We couldn’t hide the simmer of the forbidden from our stares through the rest of that weekend. It was always there between us, thrumming deep, both of us aching for more.

  But she didn’t have a Saturday night free – not one she could share with me at the Three Feathers. She didn’t have a Saturday afternoon free either when it came to it, not with Freddie so determined to perform his football training that weekend with both his mum and dad in tow.