‘Singer-songwriter,’ Kara said automatically. ‘I write the songs.’
‘Sure,’ Mike said, shrugging. ‘Not really important. Anyway, we could talk about a deal. A demo.’ He relaxed, and sat back in his seat. ‘It wouldn’t hurt to try you out in the studio. See if that stage presence translates on tape.’
‘Really?’ Kara said, wanting to hear him talk at the same time as she wanted to feel his hands on her again, working at her and drawing the moisture from deep within her. The champagne fizz, his words, her shimmering pussy and the dregs of the adrenaline in her blood mixed together until she felt dizzy with possibility.
‘Certainly,’ Mike said, pouring the last of the wine into their glasses. ‘I suspect you could be something quite special, given the right handling.’ He lifted his champagne flute in a toast: ‘And I do intend to give you just that.’
He drained his glass, leaving the promise hanging in the air between them. Kara looked past him to the party that still broiled in the overflowing bar, saw the men and women with sparkling smiles and flashing jewellery and eyes that flickered, every so often, to where she sat with Mike. She saw the want in them, calculating, curious and hungry. She felt their desire lapping at her.
When she caught sight of Tam, slouched against the bar and glowering at her, she felt a sudden strong tug that she couldn’t explain. As though he were gripping her still, kneeling in front of her and holding on to her hips like he would never let go.
She could still feel the buzz in her pussy from when Tam had his mouth on her only two hours before, and yet the lingering sensation only seemed to make her hungrier for Mike.
It was a mix of alcohol, spite and arousal that made her lean in closer to Mike then, brushing her breast against his arm, and lay a hand over his. She smiled like a serpent, thinking of the heat of their under-the-table game and the way he handled her, covertly and blatantly all at once.
‘Why don’t we get out of here?’ she asked. ‘Come back to mine.’
Mike laughed. ‘Such an impatient woman, aren’t you? But much as I would like to take you home, strip you and fuck you, I really can’t leave my own party.’ He pulled his wallet out and gave her a card. ‘Call me. Tomorrow. I’ll be in the studio.’
‘Alone?’
‘Yes, Kara. Alone.’ He looked her over again. ‘Go home, go to bed. Sleep naked. I’ll be thinking of you.’
3
KARA WOKE WITH her whole body aching. She rolled out of bed and winced as the sharp winter sunlight flared in her face. Her limbs hurt from dancing and from getting mauled by Tam in the corridor, and her head was full of the dull thud of a champagne hangover.
What surprised her most of all, though, was the shiver of arousal she felt still tingling in her sex. It had stayed with her all night, a restless, hungry excitement that compelled her to twist around in bed until the sheets were a tangled mess and she wanted to scream. She’d barely slept, but felt wired with a nervy energy she couldn’t shake off.
As she showered and made herself breakfast, she was aware that her body was practically thrumming with desire. As though Mike had struck her with a tuning fork, got her pitch perfect, so in heat that she wouldn’t be able to rest until she’d fucked him.
And it was looking likely that she’d be doing so that very afternoon. A quick phone call yielded the promise of seeing him alone in his studio, the thought of which made her palms damp and her legs shaky. Even their brief conversation turned her on – the sound of his voice tickling her ear like a promise.
She had two hours. The flat was empty – Kara shared with Ruby and Ruby was at Jon’s. The two of them were barely apart these days. Which meant that Kara had free access to Ruby’s wardrobe. Last night she’d been dressed in her stage clothes. Louche, maybe sexy in a rough, punky way. But today she wanted to make damn sure she got screwed, and she was dressing specifically for Mike.
It was a ritual she enjoyed. Putting on ‘glamour’, artfully creating an outfit with the full intention of having it taken off again in the not-too-distant future.
To set the scene, Kara rifled through her record collection and found the perfect soundtrack: Ella Fitzgerald, a little scratched and hissy, but loaded with atmosphere. She dropped the needle on the turntable, cranked the volume up loud and opened the door so the sound would carry through the house as she dressed.
She chose a pair of lipstick-red heels, which were shockingly vivid against her pale white skin. A black corset – left over from Ruby’s goth days – fixed with a row of thirty hooks and eyes that cinched in her waist and pushed her tits upwards. After some consideration, Kara fetched a pair of stockings from her room, pulled them on and fastened them to the corset’s hanging clips, leaving her pubis bare but flanked by nylon, straps and lace. It reminded her of the Magritte painting: a pussy in a frame. She wrapped a pencil skirt around her hips, admired the slit at the side that showed a sliver of stocking and the curve of her thigh.
It was the kind of outfit she didn’t wear very often. Retro in a noirish dame kind of a way, restrictive enough that she had to walk with small steps and swaying hips. Most of all it was the type of outfit that turned her on as she got dressed. If she leaned to the side, the lace tops of the stockings would scratch against her clit. The underwiring in the corset gripped her breasts like they were held in two claws. Nylon slid against nylon as she walked and every part of her body felt caressed, constricted, fixed and prepped for a fucking.
As she dressed Kara felt her confidence growing. She was as sleek and bold as a Hollywood film star, and the clock was ticking towards the hour when she’d meet Mike again. She was midway through applying a mask of foundation, blusher and eyeliner when the door buzzer went, and she nearly blinded herself as the pencil jerked in her hand. Definitely on edge, she told herself. Swearing, she went to answer the door. Tam was standing there.
‘What the fuck are you wearing?’ he said.
‘Hi, Tam. Nice to see you too.’
‘So, are you going to let me in, or what?’
Kara sighed, but she stood aside and let Tam push past her into the hallway. ‘Got any coffee?’ he asked dryly.
‘There’s coffee in the cupboard, just like there always is.’ Her eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. She followed Tam to the kitchen, for some reason very conscious of the clicking noise her heels made on the wood floor.
‘So what’s the occasion, Miss Moneypenny?’ Tam asked, his head already in the fridge. Apparently too lazy to make coffee after all, he pulled the milk carton from the fridge and took a swig, licking off the white milk moustache as he waited for Kara to answer. She fiddled with her watch, pulling the strap a notch tighter.
‘One of your eyes is squint,’ he said eventually, breaking the silence.
‘Well thanks,’ Kara said, folding her arms. ‘Anything else you want to tell me? I’m in a rush.’
‘I’d like to know what’s under that skirt,’ he said, ducking his head a little as though he could peer up it from across the kitchen.
‘Too bad,’ Kara said, but she shifted in her heels as she spoke, remembering how exposed she was underneath the thin skirt.
‘You owe me a favour, remember?’
‘Not now,’ Kara said.
‘Show me,’ he said, standing his ground and not moving a muscle. He had one hand in his pocket and something in the way he stood, that cocky, slovenly slouch, seemed like a challenge. Kara hesitated. The thought of showing him her artfully dressed crotch was appealing. She knew exactly what effect it would have on him, and her body was longing for gratification after a sleepless night and a whole morning spent thinking about fucking Mike.
Standing with her back to the kitchen counter, Kara bent and lifted the hem of her skirt. She pulled it upwards, slowly revealing her stocking-clad legs and the creamy skin that was bare at the top. Tam waited, like a cat watching its prey, his body held utterly still. When Kara’s skirt was high enough for him to catch sight of her naked pussy he took a deep breath. She knew that he was taki
ng it all in – the neatly trimmed black hair, the cleft between her legs where her thighs were pressed tightly together.
Displaying herself like this was enough to make Kara squirm, standing like a doll in front of Tam’s hungry gaze and itching to have him cover the distance between them, break the tension, turn this strange exhibition into a sex scene already.
But he seemed in no hurry.
‘Turn around,’ he said, ‘put your hands on the counter and bend forwards.’
Kara bit her lip and frowned. After a moment’s hesitation she decided to play along. Swivelling round, she gripped the edge of the kitchen counter and did just as Tam said. With her head down, she could no longer see what he was doing, only hear his movements. Screwing her eyes shut, she struggled against the impulse to turn round or speak. Let him have his moment of fun, she told herself. Truth be told, she enjoyed playing these games as much as he did.
Her skirt was still rucked up around her waist, the heels tilting her on tiptoe and forcing her bare arse upwards. Ella Fitzgerald’s voice drifted through from the sitting room. Over the music, Kara heard the suck of the fridge door opening. She flinched. Was Tam ignoring her? It would be just his idea of a joke to leave her hanging there half naked while he made a cup of coffee. But before she could turn, she heard him move.
The atmosphere seemed to thicken as she felt him behind her, close enough for his breath to disturb the air around her. It was almost as though she could feel him regarding her naked rear.
Without warning, he slapped her hard on the buttocks, giving her a stinging blow that was over before she could shout or move. Only the feeling lingered, her skin burning and buzzing, like a wasp sting spreading over her cheeks. Kara stiffened, but as she opened her mouth to swear at him, two more blows rained down.
She could have twisted out of the way, of course, but each smack came as an exquisite surprise, shocking her and making her body hum all over. It was electrifying. Kara arched her back, bit her lip and waited. She was ready for whatever his next move was. Unpredictable, she reminded herself, realising just how thrilling that could be. There was the low ripping noise of Tam’s zip, and his hands on her, cupping her buttocks.
The smacking had made her instantly wet. Just as well – that was all the foreplay she got or wanted. Immediately she felt the head of Tam’s cock butting up against her slit and nuzzling at her, until it found where she yielded and pushed inside. Kara’s nails scratched uselessly at the counter, trying to hold the precarious position. As she swayed on the heels, unbalanced and shaking, Tam drove himself further. He went deep enough to make her gasp this time, so she could feel herself clinging and stretching around his cock.
Pinned against the counter like this, Kara was barely in control. Only Tam’s hands on her hips and his cock inside her connected them. He thrust hard and fast then, screwing her decisively to his own rhythm. Kara braced her arms, held herself high on her toes to find an angle that opened her as wide as possible. She wanted this breathtaking, vigorous fuck; she wanted to be thoroughly screwed.
And Tam was obviously pleased to oblige. He was working something out from the night before, Kara could tell. This sudden, almost brutal coupling was his way of trying to impress his mark on her. He clutched her hips hard enough to leave bruises; she twisted under his grip and heard him moan.
Struck with sudden lewd inspiration, Kara arched her spine so that Tam’s cock could sink in as deep as possible. His balls slammed against her arse as he screwed her to the hilt, and she felt the pang inside as he hit her centre, thumped against her cervix like the bang of a deep bass drum.
It was enough to send him over the edge; Kara heard his sharp intake of breath as he bucked once more, jerked against her and slipped out suddenly.
She heard him cry out as the warm rain of his sperm scattered over her arse, cooling almost as soon as it touched her skin. His voice sounded surprised, like she’d tricked him somehow. It was such a swift and explosive climax Kara almost laughed. But the frig had exhilarated her – barely taken the edge off her horniness and primed her nicely for her next assignation. She liked the thought of visiting Mike ready-fucked.
Kara held her skirt up gingerly, taking care not to let it brush against the wet spots on her ass. Tam’s hand was shaking as he did up his zip. ‘Fetch me a tissue, will you?’ she asked, and felt herself slip back into control as he did her bidding, fetching a cloth from the radiator and dabbing at her. It was pleasant, the feel of him rubbing the slick of his sperm into her skin, acting almost tenderly now as he cleaned her carefully. His breath was still ragged, as though he was recovering from a shock, and Kara smiled.
‘I think that makes us quits,’ she said as he finished.
She expected him to laugh, and got a surprise when she looked up to find an expression on his face she’d never seen before. His jaw was tight and his brown eyes as sticky as tar, and for a moment she wondered if they were due another tantrum. The inevitable fight that seemed to happen every time they fucked. Kara stuck her chest out, ready to argue the toss. But Tam just tore his eyes away, balled up the towel and threw it at the laundry basket.
‘Tam?’ she said, confused.
He was leaving, already, walking slowly towards the door with his usual lazy swagger a little exaggerated. He didn’t turn and Kara watched open-mouthed as he disappeared down the hall.
‘Not even a goodbye?’ she said. ‘What the fuck was that – wham-bam-not-even-a-thank-you, ma’am?’
The front door closed quietly, leaving Kara alone with Ella still wailing ‘Bewitched, bothered and bewildered,’ in the next room.
Kara swore, crashed through to the sitting room and kicked the stereo with the point of her shoe, sending the needle skidding across the record and abruptly cutting the song short. ‘You can shut up, too,’ she muttered.
The studio was an old church that looked over the park, converted tastefully with a lot of glass and polished wood dividing the large space. Slick, Kara thought as she approached. She buzzed and waited, checking her hair with a quick glance in the reflection of the plate glass.
Mike eventually strolled to the door, smiling as he unlocked it. He was in a shirt and chinos, sleeves rolled up as though he’d been working. If he’d had a late night at the launch party it hardly showed – he was as coolly handsome as ever. Like an actor, Kara thought as he pulled the door open.
‘You look amazing,’ he said, waving her in.
‘Thank you.’
‘Come through to the office,’ he said, ‘I’m just finishing some paperwork.’ He led Kara across the reception area and upstairs into a bright airy room. It was sparsely furnished – an upright piano stood against one wall and there was a desk by the open window. The place smelled of fresh paint, and a vase of freesias on the window sill overlaid the air with their sweet honeyed scent.
‘Wow,’ Kara said. ‘Nice.’ She walked to the window and leaned in to examine a framed record hung on the wall. The lettering was small – gold on red. ‘Michael Greene – Greeneblue’.
‘Before your time,’ Michael said, moving to stand behind her. ‘And probably not your cup of tea, either.’
She turned and looked coolly at him. ‘How do you know?’
‘I imagine your tastes run to the more … blatant,’ he said, letting his eyes run over her stockinged legs and down to the lipstick-red heels.
‘Blatant, huh? Sounds nasty,’ Kara said.
‘Not at all. There’s something to be said for shameless exhibitionism,’ Mike said. ‘And you carry it off very well.’
‘You seemed to like it last night,’ she said, pacing away from him across the room. Something about Mike made her restless, like a moth trapped in a light shade. She ran her fingertips along the lid of the piano, tapping a light tattoo on the lacquered black surface.
‘Want to play?’ Michael asked smoothly.
‘Am I auditioning for something?’
He laughed, reaching up to rub a hand over his stubble. ‘Perhaps you are.�
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Instead of lifting the lid though, Kara pulled herself up to sit on the piano, sliding her bottom onto the lid and resting her feet on the stool. She let her skirt slide up to show the lacy top of her stockings and arched her back so that her breasts jutted forwards. Everything about the outfit and the situation made her feel like she was acting out a scene from a film.
She gave him her best Bette Davis look. ‘So, what do you want to play?’ she asked.
4
KARA PERCHED ON the lid of the piano while Mike circled her. He came so close that she could smell the coffee on his breath. When he rested his hands on her thighs and pushed them gently apart, a tremor of uncertainty flickered in her mind. She had the sudden irrational sensation that he could tell she’d just been fucked – as though Tam’s touch had marked her, written her secrets across her skin in scarlet.
Mike rolled her skirt higher. Bit by bit, he revealed the lace bands at the top of her stockings and her bare flesh. His hands were quick and delicate, his long fingers skilled and precise. Of course she should have guessed he would play her as expertly as he played the piano.
He tucked the skirt back so that she was fully exposed. Barely a flicker passed over his face as he examined her pussy. Kara had a sudden urge to pull her knees together and hide herself, but when she flinched Mike gave her a slight frown. His expression was the perfect echo of the cool impatience he used to show as her tutor. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her thigh.
‘Focus,’ he whispered, and Kara bit her lip. ‘Good enough to eat,’ he murmured softly, holding Kara’s knees splayed open wide so that her hips ached.
She tensed her muscles involuntarily, as though a little twitch of her pussy could scratch the itch brought on by Mike’s cool gaze. But the slight ripple and clench between her legs only made her more desperate for friction, for his hands or mouth or cock, something she could rub up against.
‘Undo it,’ he said, nodding at the corset.
Kara reached round eagerly to unfasten the hooks and eyes. Her lungs filled with a welcome rush of air as her breasts fell loose, freed from the stiff clutch of the black net. Spilling from the half-undone corset with her skirt crumpled round her waist, she felt more than naked. Mike was stripping her of everything, piece by piece. His fingers traced the red indentations the underwiring had left tracked across her skin, from her hip to her sensitive underarm. Her nipples had pinched into points; they blushed a deep apricot against the white of her skin. The back of his hand grazed the side of her breast and made her leap inside, as though his touch was electric.
The New Rakes Page 3
