Marbella Cool

by Oster, Camille

  “Do you want me to get you another drink?” she asked, noting his empty glass. He didn’t say anything, his finger resting on the lip of the tumbler.

  “Sometimes your life takes directions you never expect. You think you have everything under control, but sometimes things slip out of your grip.”

  “You didn’t expect this incarceration?”

  He snorted. “I’m not sure I was talking about that.” For a moment, he looked hurt. From what she’d seen, he never showed much emotion at all. “You should go.”

  “You shouldn’t be alone tonight.” Taking his glass, she sat down on the edge of his reclining chair. He looked set to argue when she leaned forward and carefully kissed him. She hadn’t intended on it; she just didn’t like to see him so compromised. He was surprised at first, his lips hard and unyielding before softening, as if he needed the touch too much to deny himself.

  She tasted the whiskey on his lips and pure masculinity underneath. The kiss evolved into something needy. His hands sought their way into her hair, deepening the kiss. She knew he couldn’t stop himself, too needy of comfort, solace. Shifting herself, she straddled his legs. Heat pooled as she nestled perfectly to his hips. It had been quite a while for her, too, having her own disappointments to deal with. Now, it felt like all that hurt had been unlocked and there was an avenue to exorcise that wound.

  He was hard, she could feel his cock pressing to her. It felt glorious and her insides clenched for more, for the invasion. His hand had travelled under her skirt and was skimming along the edge of her underwear. Need turned to pure heat. His breath caressed against the skin of her neck and her nipples were rock hard, grazing along the cloth of her dress. She was overheating inside the dress and needed to get rid of it. Undoing the zipper at the back, she drew it over her head, leaving her in only her underwear.

  Dominic’s gaze travelled over her body, taking in her amble breasts, which she knew were pretty damned nice. He groaned and urged her back until he took one of the impossibly hard nipples in his soft, warm mouth, his tongue teasing lazily until spears of sharp pleasure travelled through her body, down to her core which pulsed with anticipation. It felt so good, his mouth travelling from one breast to the other, leaving a trail of cool moisture in between. Her underwear was soaking, feeling the press of his hardness to her. She ground her hips and coaxed the friction to new heights. At this rate, she was going to stain that beautiful Italian material of his pants. Working her hands down, she stroked along his cock. It was a good size and she couldn’t wait to meet it properly. She undid the belt and helped release the steel length. Oh my God, she loved fucking. Was there anything better in the whole world?

  Leaning his head back, he watched her as he tore her underwear at the side of her hip. A frisson of deliciousness shook through her. When it came down to it, he went for what he wanted. Rising, she lined herself up and lowered down on his straining cock, feeling her senses fleet with the pleasure of it. He filled her and she yielded to him.

  Lush lips sought hers and he rolled his hips, pushing deeper into her at a maddeningly slow pace. He certainly knew what he was doing. She, on the other hand, wanted to rush, wanted to embrace the urgency that drove her, but he wouldn’t let her. Slowly, she rose and descended on him, again and again, the pleasure steadily building inside her.

  “Not yet,” he said, his voice not more than a dark grumble. She tried to calm herself, calm the heartbeat that pounded in her chest. She wanted to come so badly, her body ached with tension. Shifting his legs, he drove deeper into her and she couldn’t stop the convulsions that took over her entire being. She cried out and her head dropped back, his mouth clamping down on one of her nipples. She was coming undone completely, lost in a maelstrom of pure pleasure.

  Chapter 32

  Felix was probably too drunk to drive, but he didn’t give a fuck. The Maserati pulled into the round driveway by the main entrance. He didn’t want to be home, but he was in such a foul mood, he couldn’t bear to be out either. No one could stand his company that night, and the feeling was mutual.

  Pausing, he stopped where he was. He didn’t want to go into the main entrance and face his father. Deep, bitter disappointment bit into him. His father had been the one who lacked the savvy to avoid this. Growing up, Felix had thought, even quite lately, that his father was invincible. But no, he’d fucked up royally—was going to prison.

  Only true fucking losers went to prison. Everyone knew, of course. ‘Not so hot now, Dunbury’—he could see their expressions. Daddy dearest was just a nasty little thug. Your place here was never real, gained by cheating. Everyone here was here because of cheating the system. They were idiots or liars if they said otherwise. Getting caught was the true crime, and it was unforgivable.

  Mother had run a mile, trying to distance herself to salvage what was possible of her respectability. Esme pretended nothing was happening, playing oblivious. Diversion and distraction were her tactics. Her sharp tongue focused the attention elsewhere, while holding onto that whore for dear life. Shania was taking advantage, ingratiating herself to take full advantage of this opportunity.

  To get to the sliding door of his room, he walked around the outside. It had grown dark. The cicadas were chirping madly, as if nothing was wrong at all. What was going to be the fallout from this? Their social devastation was already under way, were they going to lose this house as well? No one was honest about stuff like that. What the fuck would he do if they lost shit like the house? Why was no one talking about this? They all pretended it wasn’t happening.

  Through the window, he saw movement in his father’s study. That was where he retreated to when he wanted to be alone. Felix still couldn’t believe his father had fucked up. How was this even possible? He should be beyond reach, but by some means, they had reached up and plucked him down. Skin and movement. Dark hair hung down a naked back, pumping down. He could see his father’s legs, and he was getting his end off in some whore. She was lush, thin waist flaring to rounded hips, tan lines striped across her back and formed a triangle along her pert arse.

  It took him a moment to realise it wasn’t some random call girl, this was Shania, the little whore showing her true colours. Felix shook his head with a snort. As soon as she was alone, she plied her trade and his father was stupid enough to fall for it.

  Felix tried to move away, but he couldn’t, watching her arch her back, firm hands on her hips, guiding her down on her prize. Her head leaned back as though she was in utter ecstasy. The filthy whore—getting her claws into his father.

  He tore himself away and strode to his room. Anger boiled through his blood. She’d gone too far now. He’d known all along this was what she’d do. Tomorrow, when father wasn’t here protecting her, she was gone.

  Waiting a while, he heard her emerge, softly walking up the stairs, cum no doubt dripping down her legs. Was she hoping to get pregnant, make this gravy train go on and on?

  As she emerged into the upstairs hallway, Felix grabbed her by shoulder and pushed her back into the wall. “Tomorrow you’re gone, you disgusting whore,” he said. “Father isn’t going to be here then and your free ride is over, darling, no matter what daddy says—so sorry spreading your legs was an utter waste of time. Guess this is the end of the line.”

  “Felix, you can look down on me all you want. I wasn’t the one who left my father all alone the night before he’s going away.”

  “Oh, you know all about it, do you? Been there yourself? What’d they get you for, solicitation? Maybe I should have foreseen you making a move in his moment of weakness.” She shifted awkwardly, wearing some kind of yellow baby doll dress. Her legs were long and lean, tanned so they looked dark in the sparse light. “You’re absolutely revolting, you piece of trash.”

  “Yeah, I’m the revolting one,” she said harshly. And she dared speak back to him, but whores could be lippy. “I’m surprised you noticed, considering how totally self-absorbed you are.”

  “Not self-absorbed en
ough to protect myself against grubbers like you,” he said with a bow. “Sleep tight, you’re out with the trash tomorrow.”

  With heavy steps, he returned downstairs. He hadn’t been sure he could be more disappointed in his father, but he’d been wrong. The man had no ability to see past a pretty face, fooled by a welcoming cunt. Maybe that was why he’d let her stay this long, so he could bang her when the mood struck him. Had he been doing her from day one? The thought turned his stomach. Whores were fine to toy with, but you didn’t bring them back to the house. One had to have some standards.

  Chapter 33

  Sitting back with a drink in the backyard, Trish sighed, putting her tanned legs up on the coffee table. She loved this place, she decided, particularly around dusk when the air was cooling down a bit, and their backyard was shaded. The week at work had been typical, although this one guy had managed to fall over and gash his head open. There had been blood everywhere, and the sight of blood did make her feel a bit queasy.

  Tonight was a night off for the girls, except for Amber, who had to work. Hannah arrived, dropping her bag down. “Traffic is awful. Hopefully it will clear up a bit by the time we leave.”

  “Might pay to have a few more drinks here tonight.” Trish actually wouldn’t mind staying in. They would have just as much fun, but Chrissy wouldn’t get to argue with Nathan, which was her favourite activity of late. Any proposal to just stay in would be shot down pretty quickly. Trish sighed.

  “I’ll go get ready,” Hannah said brightly. Trish should probably drag her arse upstairs and get ready too, but she couldn’t be bothered. She was left on her own a bit and she took another sip of her drink. The ice had melted and she sighed again. Maybe she was in a bit of a funk. Berlin had been fun. That Felix guy had been exactly what she needed, including the fact that they’d said goodbye at the airport, and both of them had meant it.

  “Let’s go,” Chrissy said, appearing in the kitchen. “Trish! You’re not even ready. Put a damn face on and let’s go.”

  “Fine,” Trish said and dragged herself out of her chair. Although she didn’t, she felt like grumbling all the way upstairs, sitting herself down by her make do dressing table she had to kneel at. She looked fine. Okay, maybe a bit of eyeliner and mascara. She grabbed a dress off the floor and pulled it on, not bothering with her hair. “I’m ready,” she announced when she walked downstairs again.

  The taxi stood waiting outside and for a second Trish felt like an arsehole for making everyone wait. She needed to pull herself together. The streets went past and they made their way into town. The very last of the purple hues of dusk were leaving. They went out early by Marbella standards, but they also ended up with good tables.

  Emperor was shifting gear between the mellower day shift, to the more intense evening shift. The dancefloor wasn’t packed yet, but that would happen in a flash of the eye.

  They bought drinks and grabbed a set of sofas covered in red cushions. A couple of drinks more and Trish was starting to feel a bit more zen with the place. All she needed was a few drinks and everything would be alright.

  A person sat down heavily behind her and it hurt her arm. She was about to tell them off when she noticed the dark-haired guy she’d been canoodling with in Berlin. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “Hello to you, too,” he said and placed his legs on the table, knocking over some glasses. He was pissed, seriously pissed. His eyes weren’t focusing properly.

  “Are you stalking me?”

  “I had no idea you would be here.”

  “When did you get here?” By the look of him he’d been there a while.

  “Yesterday, I think. Might be the night before. I don’t know.” He blabbered about some whore his father was doing. Trish tuned out. Felix had his arm around the back of the sofa, looking completely dishevelled. “I can’t go home. I refuse to with that bitch there.” His voice was slurring.

  “You’re a mess, mate,” she said, kind of wishing he would go somewhere else, then feeling a tad ungenerous about it.

  He was going to say something then stopped, looking her straight in the eye as if he was going to say something meaningful. “That dress doesn’t do your tits justice.”

  Her mouth opened, then closed. “Thanks,” she said. What was the point of arguing with some guy drunk out of his tree? “Bet you want a coffee right about now. Nice, warm coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee,” she said like she was trying to force a thought into his head.

  “Your new boyfriend?” Cory’s familiar voice said. Trish looked up and saw him sitting on the next sofa, a tight and furious look on his face. And what right did he have to come here, looking down on her?

  “Yeah, he’s not into tennis players,” she said sharply, daring him to say something. Cory narrowed his eyes.

  “Actually,—” Felix started, but was cut off.

  “He isn’t set to get into anything,” Cory said, giving her a filthy look and rising. He had a point in that regard. Felix was no longer conscious. Trish sat back and crossed her arms, Felix’s head on her shoulder. She shrugged him off, but he only landed back in the same place.

  Cory gave her the cold shoulder all night, turning his back on her the entire time. Like she cared. Rich of him to come along and accuse her of seeing someone when he was off doing that girl, or from what she heard, he was having to work hard for it, which was probably why he was in such a bad mood.

  She was too pissed off to do anything other than sit there with her arms crossed. Dancing wasn’t even an option; she just wanted to go home, but the girls were off doing their thing and she was stuck babysitting some rich-boy pisshead. Finally, she decided to order some chips and sat forward. Felix was lying at her back as she calmly ate.

  This wasn’t the first time Cory had a go at her for being interested in someone else, not that she was in this case. Yes, she’d spent the weekend with him and it had been nice, even good maybe. Unfortunately it didn’t get under her skin like Cory did, but then Cory was the ultimate douche. He didn’t want her, but refused to accept her with anyone else. That was not her problem—that was his. And she was so over it.

  “I might go,” she said when Hannah sat down. “Cory’s being an utter dick.”

  “About Felix.”

  “In general.” She could have gone into all her gripes, but what was the point?

  “What are you going to do about him?” Hannah said, pointing at the lump behind her. Trish turned around to look at Felix. He wasn’t her problem either. “Can we just leave him here? He’s probably gonna get robbed, probably raped, too. What a mess.”

  Trish made a pouting wince. She didn’t want to deal with this. “I’m not responsible for him.”

  “I know; I’m just saying.”

  “I have no idea where he lives. What am I supposed to do, take him home with me?”

  Hannah shrugged. “I guess we will have to take him with us?”

  Trish shook her head in vexation. She’d had enough of arseholes.

  “I’ll help you get him into a cab. I’m going to stay a little longer, unless you want to wait.”

  “No,” Trish said, definitely not interested in Cory looking daggers at her all night. It was going to cost a fortune taking a cab on her own, but she really wanted to go.

  Felix barely walked when they dragged him out of his seat. Trish could feel Cory watching her, still assuming she had a thing with Felix. He could believe whatever the hell he wanted.

  Hannah said goodbye once they were in a cab. Felix was back to leaning on her and she shrugged him off again. He was ten times heavier when she had to drag him out of the cab again. His weight was killing her shoulder and he collapsed in the entrance hall. She left him there. “Yes, I’m a bitch. Don’t depend on me to take care of you,” she said as she walked into the kitchen.

  Chapter 34

  The huge glass windows of the modern cafeteria showed the lush garden outside. For academia, this school was nothing like Rosalie was used to—everything
was brand new, glass and chrome, lush tropical plants and sunshine. She still couldn’t get used to it. Cold, drafty misery had always been the price for choosing academia, but that was Marbella—a short cut, ordered in a way so people could have things exactly as they wanted. There were no compromises here.

  Jasper placed his tray down and took a seat next to her at the large round table. The chairs were all red and green with chrome legs. “Exciting news,” he said. She could hear the traces of a speech impediment he’d had when he was a child; one he had likely spent time in therapy for. It was barely noticeable now, only once and again did hints of it slip in. “I’ve been offered a senior lecturer role in Dubai.”

  “Dubai?” Rosalie said, blinking. He was leaving?

  “Out of the blue really, but very exciting.”

  “Wow, that’s …” Unexpected. They had a bit of a romance budding and now he was leaving. She smiled, trying to keep her disappointment out. Jasper looked at her, acknowledging what it meant to them, but it was too good an opportunity for a romance that was barely born, let alone in its infancy.

  “One of the British satellite campuses.”

  “That’s great. I’m really happy for you.” On some level, she was utterly crushed, but then what were the chances of it working out? she told herself—not that she would ever find out.

  “A bit of an emergency placement. I have to be there next week.”

  “So soon? You won’t even get a chance to hand over properly.”

  “Margo is obviously disappointed, but she understands. Can’t say no to an opportunity like this, can one?” he said brightly. “Maybe we could keep in contact. Dubai isn’t that far away.”

  “No, of course,” Rosalie said, knowing the distance would kill whatever was between them, but it was impolite to say they should just let it go.