by Jade West
“Which fucking bit? Having him here or having me here?”
She moved her hands away, stared up at me. “All of it.”
Her answer cut me way more than it should. “Fuck you, then. Find some other chump to be your fucking guard dog.”
I’d reached the main door before she spoke again.
“I’m sorry, Callum.”
I froze. Embarrassment burned, flaring in humiliation at the way I’d wanted her. Leaning up against the other side of that doorway, knowing she was just an inch away. My cock in my hand as I’d listened to the noises she made... the soft lace of her thong between my fingers, the gusset tight against my nose. The smell of her so nice. What the fuck was she doing to me?
She stood, towel hanging loose as she made her way towards me. She stepped over the discarded scrap of underwear, so far away from the heap of her clothes on the chair.
“You were at the door, weren’t you?”
“My cock’s not fucking scabby, by the way. I’m not diseased, just fucking skint.”
“Christ, you heard that?”
“Don’t give a fuck what a cunt like that thinks anyway.”
“He doesn’t really think that. It was just talk.”
“Don’t give a fuck either way.” I stepped back inside, away from the door. “Why d’you bring me here?”
“Just in case...”
“Bull-fucking-shit.
She stared over, eyes wide, mouth flapping as she tried for words. She gave up, sighed and shrugged. “I’m sorry about all this. Let me get your cash.”
She fumbled around in her bag, pulled out the money. More clean, crisp notes ready for the Stoneys’ fucking pockets. I hated it. All of it.
Her cash felt like shit in my hand. I stared at it while she grabbed her clothes, reaching down for her thong and scurrying on through to the bedroom.
“You can go now,” she called. “He’ll be long gone.”
My fist clenched around the cash, crumpling it to shit. All I could see was that cunt, his smug fucking face, making her gasp and beg.
Jealousy grabbed me in a chokehold, frying my fucking brain. My name. I wanted her to scream my fucking name.
I flung myself into the bedroom with as much force as I’d knocked them on their fucking asses. Sophie Harding spun round in shock, eyes like saucers as I charged. I threw the cash at her, and the flurry of notes bounced off her sweet fucking tits.
“Don’t want your fucking money.”
She gathered it up, shoving it back at me. “Don’t be crazy. You earned it. It’s yours.”
“You can’t fucking buy me, not for this shit.”
She shrugged, eyes defiant. “Just take it, will you? Spend it on Casey if you don’t want it.”
I forced her backwards, slamming my fist into the wall above her head. “Liked winding me up, did you? Wanted me sniffing your dirty fucking panties like a desperate fucking animal? Is that what you wanted? Hey? Wanted to make a fucking prick out of me?” I walked away. “You’re a fucking joke.”
“I’m not making a prick out of you!”
“Feels fucking like it.”
“I’m not!” she screeched. She darted in front of me, blocked my way. “Jesus, Callum, I’m not out to humiliate you!”
“What then?”
Her flushed cheeks, the swell of her sweet, soft tits under the towel. She was more than I could take. I stared mute, tongue-fucking-tied.
“I.. I wanted... I want...” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath.
“What? What do you fucking want?”
Her fingers reached for my hoodie, latching underneath, freeing her towel to drop as she pulled me closer. “This...” she breathed. “You...”
My heart hammered. “This another fucking game?”
“What do you think?” Her hand reached for mine, guided my fingers to the heat between her legs. My cock leapt in my jeans, straining like a motherfucker.
“Don’t fucking tease,” I said. “It won’t end well.”
“I’m not teasing,” she rasped. “Take what you want... anything...”
I balled her clit with my thumb, and finally she groaned for me. For me. It felt so fucking good. “I ain’t gentle,” I said. “Don’t know how.”
“I don’t want gentle...” Her hands on the waist of my jeans, climbing up my stomach. “Whips... floggers... canes... take your pick...”
I grabbed her hair, yanked her head back until she yelped, eyes widening as they met the savage in mine. My fingers plugged at her slit, a growl escaping my throat as I pressed my mouth to her ear.
“...I won’t be needing any of that shit.”
***
Chapter Seven
Sophie
My fingers were frantic, jittering like crazy as they snaked under Callum Jackson’s clothes. His abs were solid, burning up under his hoodie.
I pulled up his top, desperate for skin. He grunted, pulling his fingers out from inside me just long enough to yank his hoodie and t-shirt over his head. Shit. He was fucking gorgeous.
His chest was beautifully tattooed, taut flesh firm against my palms. Three skulls morphed into each other, a desolate tribal scene, marking out the ribs under his skin. The others were more abstract, slashes of colour in vicious lines down either side of his body. The designs met under his belly button, and fanned out to the toned V of his hips. I felt plain next to his colourful skin, really fucking plain.
When the beautiful savage clamped his sweet mouth onto mine his kiss was wet, messy, clumsy teeth bashing into mine. But it didn’t matter. It was real. His tongue was so fucking hungry, plundering my mouth without mercy.
When he pulled away he was puffy-lipped, voice raspy. “Ain’t no posh guy. Ain’t got no fancy toys. Only me.”
“I don’t want posh,” I hissed.
He brushed my bottom lip with his thumb. “Gonna feel so fucking good to tear you down.”
I gasped at his words. His tongue was hot against my cheek, slavering over my face. He moved his way down, coating my skin with the slick sheen of his spit, right the way down my neck. His teeth nipped, and I squirmed, arching my back as he sunk a bite into the soft flesh of my collarbone.
“Ow... Jesus...”
He yanked my head back, angling my chest up to him, vicious kisses heading down. “Gonna mark you. I like doing that.”
He opened his mouth wide, sucking in as much of my breast as would fit. He looked so fucking hot there, dark eyes sharp as daggers as he slavered on me. I loved the way he sounded, his low grunts of pleasure. I tangled my fingers in his hair, coaxing.
“Please, harder...”
His teeth took my breath, clamping so hard the room began to spin. I held tight, for balance, soft expletives on my lips with no air to birth them. His fingers fucked me as he bit down harder, pistoning in and out in brutal rhythm. I squirmed into the lovely pain, flashes of light behind my eyes.
His teeth left deep red imprints in my skin. I ran my fingers over the grooves as the pain subsided, but he didn’t leave me any reprieve, resuming his attack. I spread my legs, a part of me hoping he’d do a Roger and tear me open while I screamed.
Callum’s eyes were glazed, lips swollen from sucking. “Your tits mark so pretty,” he groaned. “Need to own your cunt now, mark you as mine.”
My clit sparked as he pushed me back towards the bed.
“Don’t need no chains,” he growled. “You ain’t gonna fight me.”
He positioned himself between my legs, thumb brushing the thin line of hair I’d left there. He pulled my pussy lips apart so wide I flinched, closing my eyes at his scrutiny.
“Pretty cunt.” He smiled at me. “Big lips. I like that.”
He pressed his thumb against my clit, and I was already halfway there, fisting the bed sheets on impact. His teeth made me squirm; branding me with dark purple kisses, a chain of love bites across my thighs. I drifted for an age, writhing under his mouth as he finished his masterpiece.
“One left
,” he promised. “Crown jewel. Gonna hurt.”
He kissed my pussy hard, tongue flat and wet against my clit, jerky movements until I was well on my way.
“Yes...” I hissed. “I want it... I need it. I so fucking need it…”
When his teeth clenched I howled the room down, shock and pain jolting me upright, but he was ready, arms prepared to slam me down. His hands reached up to clasp mine, mouth still latched on to my throbbing cunt. He stretched my lips as he pulled away, tender flesh held fast in his teeth. It hurt like fucking sin, and once he let go I strained for view, expecting blood and strings of torn flesh.
There was none, just hot, pulsing swelling. I groaned as I touched myself, checking for serious injury.
“Never been with a biter before, not like this.”
“Wanted to hurt you, where he’s been. Wanted you to feel me instead.”
He crawled up the bed to me, and I was ready, reaching for him. Fingers frantic on his jeans. “Fuck me,” I hissed. “Fuck him out of me. Please…” I pushed his jeans down and his cock sprang to attention: long, thick, and hard as hell.
He groaned at the grip of my hand on his cock. I looked up at the dresser, wriggled until I could reach a rubber. We tore the packet and slid it on between us, clammy hands desperate and clumsy. He was so big and veined, with a dark tangled mess of pubes around the base of him. His tattoos went all the way down, stopping just shy of his gorgeous cock.
He took my wrists, pinned them high above my head.
Then he fucked me.
Dirty.
Bad.
Savage.
Grunting and hissing and slavering at my mouth. His eyes in mine, dark as night, and vicious, really vicious. He made it hurt. Good hurt. Sore clit burning so hot as he slammed into me. He raised himself before he came, changing angle enough to grind my g-spot. Jesus he knew what he was doing. I arched myself, matching his grunts, jerking under him.
We didn’t come together, but it was close. Close enough.
Hands gripped my bruised thighs as he shot his load, groaning in feral victory as I squealed beneath him.
He collapsed on my chest, spent and slick with sweat and panting like a dog.
I teased his hair with my fingers, enjoying his hot breath on my tits.
“Fucking hell, Callum, that was so good.”
“You’re bleeding,” he said. “From my teeth.”
I didn’t care.
He got up from me sooner than I’d have liked, but I brushed it off, grabbing a towel and wandering through in a heady daze to flick the kettle on. He was dressed by the time he joined me. Eyes distant.
“Staying for a drink?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Gotta go.”
“So soon?”
“Casey’s alone, in Vick’s shed.”
“I see.” The atmosphere was tense. Real fucking awkward. He hovered for ages, eyes on the floor, and it took me a while to realise what he was waiting for. “Shit! Your money! Christ, I’m sorry.” I dashed into the bedroom and gathered it up, shoving it into his hands as he stared at me. “Count it, please. I’d hate if there was any missing.”
His eyes didn’t leave mine. “What’s this for?”
I smiled. “You’ve definitely earned it.”
His expression darkened. “Guess I did, yeah.” He shoved the notes in his pocket. “See you around.”
Fuck. He’d gone before I could even say goodbye.
***
“Jesus Christ, baby, you don’t do things by halves, do you.” Raven smiled, stubbing out her cigarette as the waitress delivered our coffees. “So, Roger is out, Savage is in?”
“Neither’s in at the moment,” I groaned. “Callum’s gone totally bloody AWOL.”
“AWOL?” she quizzed, perfect brows raised.
“Won’t answer his phone, no sign of him on the estate.” I sighed. “Avoiding me like the plague. He’s painting, though, work’s going ballistic about it, eating into next quarter’s budget just to keep it under control.”
“Is he any good?”
“Wouldn’t catch the maintenance team calling it art.” I handed her an envelope, stuffed full of photos I’d printed out at work when no one was looking. “What do you think?”
She flicked through the pictures, pausing on some for an age, eyes glittering. “He did these?”
“All of them, yeah.”
“Boy’s got skill,” she said.
“You think so? I mean, I think so, but I’m probably skewed. Supposed to be filing these for prosecution, vandalism.”
“That’s the fucking crime, right there. These are fucking incredible.” She turned a photo towards me, one of my favourites: a boy leaping, mid-flight, surrounded by twisted blades as he reaches for the sun. “Look at the lines... the colour...” She pointed to the swirls in the background. “That control, the care with which he layers the paint. Yet, it’s jagged, rushed... clearly done at speed. You can feel the passion... the soul... I fucking love it.”
I felt my cheeks burning. “Yeah, me too.”
“Guess you found your Mr Dangerous.”
“Found him and lost him.”
“I’m sure he’ll turn up. You’re a hot chick, sassy as sin with a good head on your shoulders. What’s not to love?”
I sipped my coffee. “I’m old. He’s young. I live in my parents’ ivory tower, he’s on the street... do I need to continue?”
“Twenty fucking eight isn’t old, believe me, I’m counting on it. Anyway, a guy loves an older woman, I’m sure you can break him in, teach him a few tricks.”
“No need. He’s been around a bit, that much is totally obvious.”
“He’s good, then?”
I couldn’t hide the grin. “Rough, raw, dirty... really fucking good with his hands.”
She handed back the photos. “That figures.”
I looked her dead in the eye, girl to girl. “Shit, Raven, I’m losing the plot. I can’t stop thinking about him.”
“Crushing is hardcore. Maybe that’s all it is.”
“Hope so.” I finished my coffee. “It’s just a sex thing. It has to be. I mean what the hell would we ever have in common? And can you even begin to imagine me taking him home to the family? Parading him around at some property event? Can just imagine Dad’s face if I dragged him along to the Southbank Art Centre opening, pissing on their snobby spectacle and blighting the family name. Alexandra would probably faint. Mum would probably cry.”
“Hey, enough of that. He’d belong there more than they would. That place isn’t just a fucking building, regardless of what your posh-arsed parents invested in it.”
I smiled at Rebecca’s passion. I love her as Raven, but I love her even more as Bex, bohemian art queen, tattoo artist extraordinaire. “Your stuff going to be on display at the opening?”
“Nah. I’m out the game now, don’t get as much time for it now Cara’s moved in.”
“Shame.”
“Not really. The girl’s pussy tastes mighty-fucking-fine. I’d be lying if I said I’d rather be painting. Got the tattoo work anyway, keeps me busy.”
“Cara’s great. You two were made for each other.”
“It was just a sex thing, once upon a time. I mean how could she ever take me home to the family, baby?” Rebecca winked, softening her snipe.
“Christ, Bex, I’m sorry. I sound like a real bloody snob.”
“It’s your parents talking through your mouth. Let it go, baby, let them go, live for you.”
I changed the subject. “How’s Explicit? How’s Cain?”
“Come back soon, will you? With or without the savage in tow. We’re all missing you.”
“How’s Cain, Bex?” I grinned. “Seriously, spill the beans. I’m cool.”
“He’s giving it another go with Diva. They’ve been on each other like a rash since you left. Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I laughed. “I’m happy for them. All of them... even Cat and Masque.”
“Ev
en Cat and Masque?!” Raven’s mouth was set in a mischievous line, eyes sparkling as she stared at me. “You weren’t joking, were you, baby? Boy’s got you really fucking good.”
Damn fucking right he had.
***
Callum
I’d never been so glad to offload cash as I’d been to hand that filthy fucking money to the Stoneys. They weren’t happy, of course. Never fucking would be. Not until that debt was fucking done for. Another three hundred, all my fucking work for the week. Diving from here to there with shitty little parcels, handing them over to any fucking low-life skank who was buying. Hated it. Hated my fucking life.
Hated being paid for sex more than any of it.
Didn’t want to take it but the Stoneys had us in a corner with nowhere to fucking move.
Vick was grateful, I know. But there was more to it than that. She was trying too hard again, just like she was before I went inside. Sitting too close, smiling that smile. Telling me how good I was with Slay, how much he fucking loved me. I’d skulked away like a sewer rat, bedding down with Case at the old King’s Road maintenance huts. Licking my wounds with just a twenty left to my name and some loose scraps of change. That and my paints. I’d been painting every fucking night, my only escape. Taking more risks these days too, hanging off the subway by a bit of tatty old rope, heart fucking racing. I had a letter in my pocket, just in case. A note to her, Sophie Harding, asking her to take care of Casey. She could hand her into one of them rescue homes, maybe she’d find a good family after all.
I’d seen Sophie looking for me on her estate visits. Eyes darting around the place, heading down alleys that led to nowhere. Even watched her check around Vicki’s place, sticking a brave head over the fence to the yard. I’d kept out of sight, one step ahead. Just watching. She’d tried calling too, from several different numbers. Hadn’t answered. Too fucking ashamed. Angry too.
The Stoneys would be after me again in a few days, wanting another instalment I didn’t have. I had one-eighty owing from Jack Willis, barely enough to show my face with. I’d come away with a black eye next time, maybe a couple of smashed ribs. Fuck it, who fucking cared anymore.
