by Jade West
“Just posh. Residents pay through the nose for it.”
“Fair enough.”
“You asked,” I smiled. “My wages would never cover it. Like I said, I rent from my parents.”
“And they don’t mind? You having it cheap, like?”
“Money and property are two things they have in abundance. I don’t imagine they give it much thought. Not unless they’re trying to blackmail me with it, that is.”
“Blackmail you?”
“Dad wants me to work in their property business. I don’t. We go round in infuriating circles with it, mainly every Sunday lunchtime.”
The lift dinged, and my heart leapt as I put my key in the door. This shit was getting real.
Callum’s eyes sparkled like dark jewels as he looked around my place. Open plan, minimalistic, like every other apartment in this block. It was nice, though, light wood, and glass, and computerised fucking everything. I stepped into the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of wine from the cooler.
“Want a glass?”
“Aye, cheers.”
I watched him as I uncorked, skulking around the place with his hands in his pockets, careful not to touch a single thing. Casey wasn’t quite so considered, she gambolled about, spinning in excitement at her own reflection in the balcony doors, and charging headlong into the coffee table.
Callum jumped a mile as she sent a couple of candles flying, but I only laughed.
“Shit.” He picked up a chipped tea light holder. “Sorry, Soph.”
I handed him his wine. “It’s only a trinket.”
“Guess you’ve got enough of ’em.”
I followed his gaze, registering, as he was, that candles were my only real personalisation of this space. Everything else was standard, mirrored in the apartment opposite and identical in the one downstairs, but candles were my thing. I like the light.
He stood to check out a piece of art above the dining table.
“It’s a print,” I said. “Don’t even ask me who by. I expect we might be getting a compulsory refurb now my parents are getting all arty, though.” I smiled to myself, I could just fucking imagine it.
“Your parents are artists?”
That look again, the same one he’d given Bex. “Hell, no. They’re just developing that fancy new Southbank complex. You must have heard of it?”
He shrugged. “Dunno.”
I smiled. “You don’t know if you’ve heard of it or not?”
His eyes met mine. “No. Ain’t heard of it. Ain’t from your world, Soph, ain’t heard of none of this fancy shit.” He stood up, chasing after Casey who was jumping up at the worktops. “Shouldn’t be here,” he snapped, flustered. “Don’t belong.”
“The dog’s fine, let her be.”
He brought her back with him, pushed her into a sitting position between his knees, but she sprung up again, regardless. “You don’t understand. She gets food anxious. That’s what they call it. Used to being hungry so she takes what she can get. She’ll find it, too. Tear your fucking kitchen apart if you don’t watch her.”
“She’ll be fine.” I laughed as she jumped up to shove her nose in my face, her tail wagging so hard it wiggled her whole body with it.
“Won’t be saying that when she’s trashed all your shit.”
“She’ll learn. She’s sharp.”
“Not in one night. She ain’t that quick a learner.”
“Not in one night, no.” I left it at that, unsure of what I even meant by that statement. I changed the subject, subtle as a freight train. “Did you enjoy Explicit?”
His smile rocked my world. “Aye. Liked Raven, Masque too. Sound, they are. Raven said she’d be on down, to East Veil. Check out my art and shit.”
“She’s really good. She knows what she’s talking about.”
“Dunno why she’s so bothered. Ain’t nothing much.”
“I don’t believe that, and neither does she.”
He shrugged, and I felt him prickle, awkward again. “What you got me here for, Soph?”
Nothing like a direct question. “I can enjoy your company, can’t I?”
“You mean sex?”
“No. Although I can enjoy that too, I hope.”
“That shit in the club. I liked it.” He stared at the darkness beyond the balcony windows. “Didn’t know if I would, but I did. I liked it there.”
“I hoped you would.”
“Why?”
“Jesus, Callum, isn’t it obvious?” I stroked Casey’s ears, looking into happy doggy eyes. “You really want me to say this? It’s late, I want bed, I want sex, I want to go to sleep with a sore pussy to go with my sore arse.”
“Just wanna know where we’re at.”
“We’re here. Doesn’t that say enough?”
“Maybe for you.”
I reached over to twist his fingers in mine. “Come to bed with me.”
A gentle squeeze as he downed his drink, then a shrug, conversation over. “Alright, Soph. Whatever you say.”
***
Callum
I’d never been in a bed before, not like that one. Sophie’s bed was fucking massive, a big fucking hulk of a thing, all fucking posh, with white sheets and too many fucking pillows. I felt dirty in it, even though I was clean. Well, clean for me, anyway. I stared up at the ceiling, feeling so fucking naked even under the covers. She’d stripped my clothes off me, all of them. Ditched them at the bottom of the bed and dragged me in with her like I was someone. Like I deserved to be here.
Someone like me don’t deserve this shit. Was born for the streets. Born for cold fucking nights and scrabbling for food. Fighting, and stealing and surviving best I can, not for this. Not for someone like her.
Casey was still whining her head off in the hallway, scratching at the door. I told her to quiet again, settle down like a good girl. She didn’t know what to do, bless her. Not her fault, neither. Still, I couldn’t have her in here, dirty paws all over Soph’s white sheets. Felt bad enough for dirtying them up myself.
Sophie edged closer, snaking a hand across my stomach. I rolled onto my side, awkward, getting as close as possible to the edge. She followed me, stalking me under the duvet like she was on a mission. I felt her breath against my back, her leg wrapped over mine. It felt so fucking nice.
“Comfy?” she asked, in a lazy voice.
“Aye.”
“You sure? You’re right on the edge.”
“Aye. I’m alright.”
“Night then, Callum.”
“Night.”
I closed my eyes, trying to drift off. Couldn’t stop thinking, though. Of Sophie, of Explicit, of Raven and Masque and all the things I’d seen. Couldn’t stop thinking of the Stoneys, either, and Vicki back home. Sophie’s breathing deepened, long exhalations on my skin. I listened to her sleeping, wishing I could follow, but the minutes ticked by and still fucking nothing. I was careful not to wake her when I got out of bed, lifting her arm so softly that she didn’t feel a thing.
I went to the window, pulled back the drapes to look at the city outside, but it weren’t a window, it was a door. I turned the key quietly, stepping outside as naked as the day I was born. The balcony was high, looking right over the Thames. It was a great view, London lights twinkling on the skyline. Not lights like East Veil, proper lights. Could see the London Eye from here, loads of other shit too. I leaned over, breathing in the river air. Breeze on my face felt good. How the other half fucking live, eh?
Soft footsteps padded out to me. Sophie’s warm arms around my waist. “Can’t sleep?”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake ya.”
She kissed my shoulder, and it made me cringe, wanting her so fucking much it hurt. “Come back to bed.”
“Can’t sleep, Soph.”
“I’ll help you sleep.” She grabbed for my wrist, pulled me back inside, her hands all over me, over the tats on my chest. “Relax. It’s alright.”
“Why d’you want this?”
“Sto
p talking, Callum,” she whispered. “Stop questioning it.”
“Why d’you trust me here? I can’t even trust my fucking self.” I pulled away from her, hands in my hair, stomach in fucking knots as Casey whined away outside the door. “I fight, I steal, I hurt people. I eat from fucking bins, Soph, like a fucking sewer rat. I ain’t got no money, no fucking home, no nothing.”
“Stop it,” she said. “That isn’t what I see.”
“What d’you fucking see, then, eh? Cos I don’t fucking see it.”
She wouldn’t stay away, pressing up against me like I weren’t a fucking monster, like I couldn’t choke the breath from her for a cheap fucking thrill. “I see you. Not your past, not your problems, not your pissing credit status. Just you.”
“Why are you so fucking nice?” I relented, resting my chin on her head, breathing in her sweet fucking scent.
“Born perfect, I guess.” I could tell she was grinning, felt her lips against my chest. “Come to bed.”
“Told you, can’t sleep.”
“Who said anything about sleeping?”
***
This time it was her in charge. There was something desperate about her, primal. She pushed my head back into the pillows, straddling me like a rodeo horse, yanking her satin slip off and grinding against my crotch like a bitch on heat. I gritted my teeth, cock fucking hungry for her. She took my hands and pinned them over my head, her weight on her arms as she leaned forward to kiss me.
She found me ready. I slammed my tongue in her mouth, claiming it as mine.
I tried not to think about the men who’d already been in this place. The rich men, the smart men, the men with prospects. Even more, I tried not to think about the men who’d be here after me. The man who’d make her his, for real.
Tonight, at least, Sophie Harding was fucking mine.
“Fuck me,” she hissed. “Take me. Hurt me. Use me.”
“No,” I growled. “You fuck me.”
She rubbed her perfect little tits in my face, and I sucked on her so hard, coaxing her nipples until she groaned. I could feel her excitement, the clamminess of her sweet cunt against my cock. I twitched under her, wanting nothing more than to bury deep in her juicy snatch.
“Fuck,” she rasped. “That feels so good.”
She let go of my hands, leaning over to rummage in the bedside drawer. Again my heart fucking dropped. A stash of rubbers, ready for whoever was sharing her bed. Tonight it was me. Maybe tomorrow it wouldn’t be.
She tore open a packet and rolled it on, dainty fingers so fucking nice. Then she rode me, groaning like a whore as she leaned back, hands on my knees as she circled her hips, round and round and fucking round, her tits bared to the ceiling, the dainty curve of her waist so inviting.
I grabbed hold of her, gripping her tight and forcing her in wider circles. She moaned as I encouraged her efforts on my cock.
She felt perfect around me, tightening in all the right places. I closed my eyes in concentration, trying to delay the inevitable, but she felt too fucking good to resist for much longer.
“More...” she hissed. “Please...”
I didn’t need asking twice. I bucked against her, slamming my cock all the way inside, and she jerked and she jiggled and she moaned my name, diddling her little pussy while my hands mashed her tits.
“Fuck me, Cal. Fuck me!”
I rammed in and out like a fucking piston and her eyes rolled up into whites.
“I’m coming,” she breathed. “God, Callum, I’m fucking coming...”
I wasn’t far behind, grunting and groaning and pumping my spunk right into her as she shuddered. My heart was pounding, breath frantic, chest clammy with sweat as she collapsed onto me. I smoothed her hair, landed kisses on her face as my cock slipped from her sopping cunt.
“That was so good,” she whispered. “Really fucking good.”
“Didn’t hurt you, though, thought you needed that shit.”
She slid to the side, head on my chest as she snuggled up against me. “So did I,” she said. “I guess we’ve both learned new something new tonight.”
This time around sleep found me quick, and it felt fucking sweet.
***
Sophie
I was used to being woken up by an alarm clock, not a wet nose. Certainly not a wet nose in my face on a Sunday morning. I opened my eyes straight into Casey’s dark brown stare. She whined her approval, licking at my face before I could stop her. I giggled, trying to fight my way out from under my furry assailant.
Callum bolted upright, eyes startled as he adjusted to his surroundings. It took him a moment to get his bearings, but once he did he grabbed for Casey, shunting her off onto the floor.
“Jesus, Soph, sorry. Don’t know how she got in.”
I pointed to the open bedroom door. “I guess she learned how to work the handle.”
“Too smart for your own pissing good,” he said to her, ruffling the fur on her neck.
He slipped out of bed, taking just a second to pull his jeans on. I admired his skin and the tightness of his ass in the morning light, the muted sun through the windows casting him in a beautiful glow.
“No need to get up yet,” I said. “It’s a Sunday.”
“Gotta check on Case, see what she’s been doing.”
I followed him, wrapping myself in just a satin slip as I padded my way through to the living room.
Callum stood rigid in the hallway, hands on his temples in mortification. The place was a tip. A cushion from the sofa shredded across the coffee table, some torn up letters from the dresser by the main door. The worst was in the kitchen. The bin lay fallen, lid off and the contents strewn over the floor. She’d been in the cupboards, too, judging by the torn up cereal boxes and the scattering of cornflakes and Cheerios.
“I guess we’re having toast for breakfast,” I smiled.
“She’s had the door,” Callum said. His expression was heavy, really bloody horrified. I followed his gaze, and sure enough the living room door had been lacerated, strips of paint missing from the woodwork, the bedroom door hadn’t fared much better. “Must have shut herself in and panicked.”
“Oh well, now she’s learned to open doors I don’t imagine there’ll be much more scratching.”
“Your glass always this half full?”
“Only on mornings when I’ve had a great fuck the night before.”
He smiled. “I’ll remember that.”
“Hope so.”
I stepped over the kitchen carnage, flicking on the kettle for morning coffee. Callum began sorting the living room, and I couldn’t help laughing as Casey jumped in play, trying to wrestle the cushion stuffing from him. He was angry at first, shooing her back, but she persisted, lying flat to the floor with her tail wagging, big brown eyes fixed on his.
I watched his expression soften, eyes filled with affection for his furry companion.
He dropped to all fours, charging her, and together they wrestled, rolling around in doggy-human bliss as they played. Casey broke away and took off, charging around the room, racing past just out of his reach as he lunged after her, round and round in crazy circles. It was quite a game.
“She loves you so much,” I said. “She really does.”
“Love her, too,” he said. “She’s fucking awesome.”
I agreed with him, despite the mess. The dog was really something.
“Black fur ain’t so good with your white sofa,” he commented. “Got a hoover or summat?”
“I’ll sort it later,” I said. “Don’t worry about it.”
That seemed to knock him, and his shoulders hunched a little. “I’ll get my stuff together.”
“You haven’t even had coffee yet.”
“Don’t wanna outstay my time, you know.”
“You’re not.” I held out a mug, and he hesitated before he took it, but only for a second.
I dropped some kitchen roll onto a puddle that looked suspiciously like dog piss, and pulled the
bin back to standing. Callum stared, dark eyes heavy with something. I couldn’t read him again, couldn’t fathom what he was thinking, or what he wanted.
“What now?” he said. “Want me to help clean up?”
I pondered awhile, excitement dancing up my spine.
“Say, Callum Jackson, have you ever watched the entire Alien Quadrilogy back to back?”
Sunday dinner with the parents was officially cancelled.
***
Chapter Eleven
Callum
I raced over to Jack Willis’ place, Casey running at my side all the way. I was late, really fucking late. Only half hour left until the Stoneys showed up and I hadn’t a fucking quid to my name. Not yet anyway.
I bashed his door like my life depended on it, sighing in relief as movement showed inside.
“What the pissing hell you doing here, lad? It’s a bleeding Monday morning.”
“Need me cash,” I said. “One eighty I’m owed.”
“One fifty you’re owed,” he said. “Only cash I got in the place.”
He was a lying cunt and we both knew it, but I couldn’t risk an argument. Stoneys would tear me a new arsehole if I turned up empty-handed. I left him to it, heart racing and not ’cause of the exertion. Stoneys don’t play nice and one-fifty was a pisstake.
I didn’t have time to drop Case with Vicki, only just making it to the garages in time. Trent was already waiting. The usual big cunt was with him, but my hackles spiked as I saw the other piece of shit alongside.
“What the fuck’s he doin here?” I grunted.
“Jones is one of our lot now,” Trent said. “Offered you the gig first, remember?”
“No place for that piece of shit in your running, Trent,” Tyler scoffed. “He’s a fucking weasel. Good for nothin’.”
“Watch your fucking mouth,” I seethed. “Don’t give a fuck who you’re running with, you’re still a fucking cunt, Jones.”
“Ain’t got time for all this crap,” Trent snapped. “Where’s me money, lad?” I handed him over the notes, stomach sinking as I watched his expression turn sour. “And the rest? Where’s the fucking rest?”
