The New Rakes

by Nikki Magennis

  Mike wasn’t watching her and seemed to have almost forgotten she was there. He leaned forwards and spat in his hand, curling his wet fingers over the head of his cock. He started to rub. His eyes closed and he sighed, tipping his head back so Kara could see his Adam’s apple rise and fall in his throat. It was sheer, private pleasure, just Mike and his cock, but she knew he was doing it for her benefit. It worked. He stood with his legs wide apart and his arm, strong and tense, worked slowly at the fat hard-on held just out of her reach.

  When he gritted his teeth and pushed air through them in a rough hissing sigh, she was ready to weep with desire for that body and that cock.

  Had he done this with Lina? Made her beg? Kara was starting to care less. She licked her lips and strained at the silky bonds that kept her powerless and frustrated. If she wanted this man, it was clear she was going to have to find a way to take him. And if she had to get round his tangled past to do it, she’d find a way.

  With her arms tied and her pulled-down skirt hobbling her, she sank to the floor. The carpet was soft and her knees sank into it as she shuffled over to him, feeling ridiculous but ready to crawl if she had to. When she reached Mike, she butted her cheek against his cock, nuzzled against his thigh and tried to bury her face in his coarse bush of hair. She struggled against him blindly, darting her tongue out to lick the hot salt of his skin.

  ‘Bobbing for apples, are you?’ he asked, laughing softly at her while he continued to jack away at himself. But when Kara keened with frustration, he relented and slowed his movements, cupped the back of her head and moved his cock into her mouth. She sucked on it gratefully, feeling the full roundness of his head and the tight hard length curling into her cheek. ‘That’s it,’ he said softly, angling his hips to move deeper.

  Kara jammed as much of him as she could into her mouth, pulling back slowly and then surging forwards to hear him sigh as he pressed hard against the roof of her mouth. She worked at his root hard, dragging her teeth over the lip of his foreskin and closing her lips tightly around his girth, holding him hard and sucking relentlessly. Spit welled in her mouth and ran down her chin, but she kept going, listening with pleasure as she heard Mike’s gasps come faster.

  When he clutched at her, she knew he was losing control. With every grunt he made, every moan she drew from his lips, she felt stronger. At last, when his hips locked rigid and his skin swarmed against her lips, she pulled away.

  ‘Fuck me,’ she said, breathing hard.

  Mike didn’t answer, but took hold of her shoulders. He lowered her slowly, folding her over so that she rocked back on her heels, supporting herself with her bound fists. Automatically, her legs spread wider, and she gasped. She felt like she was falling backwards. Her hips curved so that her pubis stuck forwards. Her head was tilted back and she couldn’t move, and for a moment she struggled.

  Then Mike’s mouth was on her, licking full lazy strokes across her clit and lips, his tongue running nimbly into the fold of her thigh. She didn’t need much stimulation. One more hard fabulous suck of her clit and he was going to make her come.

  When he drew away, she was left hanging in awful space for a long moment, bereft. She heard the crinkle of foil as he tore the wrapper from a condom and she balanced dizzily on the edge, waiting.

  Two heartbeats and his cock was at her slit, surging inside her at last and rising deep, right up to the hilt. Jesus, she thought. She was angled so that his cock pressed hard against her sweet spot and, as they rocked in and out of each other, even with the ache in her wrists and the pain in her thigh muscles, she felt the orgasm start to blossom between them.

  ‘Say my name,’ she said.

  When he didn’t answer, she curled her head up to look at him. Their eyes locked. ‘Say my name,’ she repeated, insistent, holding herself still, trapping his hips between her thighs so that he couldn’t move.

  ‘Kara,’ he said at last, pushing into her with a deep driving stroke. ‘Kara.’

  At the same moment, they tipped over the brink.

  Her orgasm nearly broke her. It crackled and hummed up her thighs and wrapped itself round her arse, broke deep in her pussy where his cock was squeezing, shot out through her arms and rose up, until she was blind and deaf and dumb, rigid with the force of it.

  Mike clutched at her waist as he fell forwards, coming soundlessly, mouth open, eyes screwed shut. Shocks rippled across Kara’s body and she rocked against him, bumping like a boat hitting the harbour wall, waves rising and falling and pulling the ropes tight until they sighed, finally, and fell back, looping slowly into the water.

  Then she spread out like an oil slick, the feeling rushing back into her limbs and her kneecaps stinging from carpet burns. She twisted onto her side and they came loose, doubled over and panting. The room was full of stars for a moment and Kara’s head swam; she’d been dropped, suddenly, back into the world of the living and it was a shock. There was sweat trickling down her back and drying already, and Mike in front of her pushing his hands into his hair, composing himself, steadying his breathing.

  Though she was trembling and as weak as a newborn puppy, Kara managed a smile. Whatever strange game they had started, full of undercurrents and secrets, she looked at his face, slack after the orgasm, and felt like she’d just won a round.

  Afterwards, she sprawled on the king-size bed and stretched out.

  ‘I could get used to this,’ she said. ‘Come here.’

  Mike glanced at his watch. ‘Much as I’d love to, I have things to do.’ He bent down and gave her a brisk kiss on the cheek. He was already tucking his shirt in and looking for his jacket.

  Kara bristled. She rolled out of bed and snatched her clothes from the floor, avoiding Mike’s eyes.

  She dressed quickly, feeling the ache in her arms and legs. Mike watched as she fumbled the buttons on her skirt and hunted for a lost shoe.

  ‘There’s no need to rush,’ he said. ‘They don’t rent these rooms by the hour, you know.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t want to keep you,’ Kara said. If her voice was bitter, she couldn’t help it.

  He caught her arm as she headed for the door. ‘Call me,’ he said.

  Kara nodded. ‘When I have the time,’ she said, giving him an icy smile.

  Outside, the streets were full of rain and rushing crowds. The late-shift workers and the early drinkers mingled on the wide streets of the city centre, dodging salesmen in neon jackets and charity workers, sweeping past the buskers with their guitars echoing under archways and in doorways.

  Kara walked fast under the violet streetlights, her raincoat pulled tight and her collar lifted to cover her face. The burn from Mike’s stubble was hot on her cheeks as she went westwards, passing gusts of heated air from the shops with their open doors and smelling the first early-evening kitchen smells of garlic and grease and beer. Her legs, bare and tight in the cold winter air, were still aching, but her pussy had that tingling, well-fucked feel that put a spring in her step.

  She pulled out her phone and wrote a text with one hand as she walked, closing the other around the folded contract in her jacket pocket.

  ‘Meet me in Sleazy’s,’ she punched in. ‘I’ve got good news.’ She scrolled through the names in her phone, past Jon and Mike and Ruby, reached Tam, and hesitated. As she waited at a junction, she bit her lip and let her thumb hover over the send button.

  Around her, people surged forwards as the lights changed, bumping her shoulders. Kara snapped at someone, swore and marched onwards, skirting the traffic as it drove forwards and picked up speed.

  When she walked past a pub with the doors propped wide open and heard a blast of music thumping into the street, she smiled. The city was full of music, spilling out of every corner, and she was just about to turn the volume up even louder. Even as the rainstorm grew heavier around her, Kara felt her heart lifting and surging as she reached the motorway junction.

  Traffic swarmed under the flyover, flowing south over the river and east towards Edinbu
rgh, streaming out in every direction from the heart of the city. Kara looked down at the cars and felt again the faint ache in her wrists, a reminder of her and Mike’s game. She remembered the noise he’d made as he’d come inside her and the rush and roar of the road beneath her sounded as charged and exciting as sex.

  Everything’s coming together, she told herself. Don’t lose your nerve. Taking a deep breath of the smoke and rain-sodden air, she lifted her phone and pressed the button. Just as long as you don’t screw this up, Tam, she added.

  Slipping her phone back in her pocket, she turned and hurried onwards, walking faster straight into the rain.

  8

  SUB CITY RADIO was blasting through the house when she got home. Kara followed the noise to the kitchen, where her flatmate clattered around making coffee. The sink was piled with dirty plates and a load of laundry was scattered on the floor: fishnets and ballet skirts and red flannel sheets. It was just the way Ruby lived – ‘creative chaos’, as she called it. Kara was too psyched to notice. She was wet from the rain, her cheeks burned with wind chill and stubble rash, and her body ached with exhaustion, but inside everything was sparking like fireworks. She leaned against the kitchen counter and said hi. Ruby barely looked up.

  ‘We’re out of milk,’ Ruby snapped, slamming the door of the fridge. ‘If you want coffee you’ll have to have it black.’

  ‘I’ve got news,’ Kara said. ‘Good news.’

  Ruby turned. Her make-up was blurred on her face and her hair fell around her face in a mass of black curls. ‘Oh yeah?’ She peered closer at Kara. ‘What happened to you? You’re soaked and you look kind of … wired.’

  Kara looked at her flatmate’s rosebud lips, her open freckled face, and savoured the surprise she knew was going to make her freak. ‘We’ve got a deal.’

  ‘A deal. A deal. A record deal? Blue Star?’ Ruby froze. ‘Oh my God. This is major. This is … Oh God.’ She looked down at the kettle in her hand. ‘Screw the coffee. We need alcohol.’

  Kara laughed. ‘I’m going to meet Tam in Sleazy’s. But I don’t know if he’s going to be exactly over the moon.’

  Ruby winced. ‘Ah. Tam trouble.’

  ‘Mm. He’s got some chip on his shoulder.’

  ‘That boy’s always been a headcase,’ Ruby said. ‘But yes, it’s been worse than usual lately.’ She laid the coffee jug on the counter and looked at Kara. ‘You do know why though? I mean, it’s fairly obvious.’

  Kara sniffed. She pushed Ruby out of the way and started spooning grains into the pot. A cup of scalding-hot strong coffee suddenly seemed like a good idea. She was running on fumes after hours of fizz and fucking with Mike, and she had a feeling she’d need her wits about her to deal with Tam. Everything seemed to have speeded up in the past few days, as though she was falling head first into the future. It made her exhilarated and nervy all at once.

  ‘I mean, you can’t have failed to notice –’

  Kara cut Ruby short. ‘I need to get going. Are you coming or not?’

  Ruby lifted her eyebrows. ‘Whatever.’ She picked up her phone from the table. ‘I’ll call Jon. He’s going to bite himself.’ She spun round as she reached the doorway. ‘Uh – you might want to put on a bit of slap before we go and meet Tam.’

  ‘Huh?’ Kara said. ‘Tam’s seen me without make-up plenty of times. I don’t think it’ll help.’

  ‘No.’ Ruby nodded, a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. ‘But that stubble rash is nasty.’

  ‘Where the hell is he?’ Kara said, rattling the ice in her glass. Three-quarters of her band sat in the half-empty bar, under kitsch blue-tinted paintings and a disco ball. They’d taken over a bench by the window and sat looking out into the rain. Celebratory drinks were half-drunk in front of them. The contract lay spread out on the table, with three signatures on it and the ink smudged where Ruby had carelessly set down a beer bottle. The space next to Tam’s name was blank, the street outside was empty and Kara’s mood was turning dark.

  ‘God knows,’ Jon said. ‘Tam moves in mysterious ways.’ He shrugged.

  ‘I could kill him,’ Kara said. ‘We’re recording in two days. Two days.’

  Jon looked up. ‘Give him some time to cool off,’ he said. ‘You know he can pick up a tune as easy as blinking.’

  ‘He’d better,’ Kara said, ‘I won’t let him ruin this.’

  Ruby sat with her arm looped over Jon’s shoulder. ‘Maybe you should call him, Kara,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Oh screw that. I’ve got enough to do without running round after Tam.’

  ‘Give him a break,’ Ruby said. ‘His feelings are hurt.’

  ‘Poor thing.’ Kara rolled her eyes. ‘I think Tam needs to realise the world does not revolve around him and his fucking feelings.’

  ‘I’m aware of that.’

  Kara’s head snapped round. Tam stood behind them, wearing his leather jacket and four-day-old stubble.

  ‘So, what is it we’re playing?’

  Tam directed his question at Kara and Kara alone. She looked at him, shocked. When did he get so pale? she thought. His cheekbones stood out razor sharp and his eyes were bruised with dark shadows. He looked as though he hadn’t slept for a week. ‘Playing?’ she echoed.

  ‘New songs.’ Tam dropped onto a chair, ignoring the seat next to Kara. He was ragged, but she couldn’t help noticing how it gave him an extra layer of sexiness. A dissolute, surly rock-star look just dripped from him. Kara looked him over.

  Anger suited him. It made him sharper and ever so slightly dangerous. His eyes were dark, but they burned when she caught his gaze, burned cold. He looked at the uncertain expressions on the faces around him and sighed.

  ‘We’re recording a demo, I take it. From the looks of this –’ he picked up the contract and skimmed over it ‘– Mike’s picking you up after all.’ He looked at Kara again and she felt like his gaze was flaying her. They’d always been sparring partners, but this time she saw something new in his expression. It looked uncomfortably like hate.

  ‘Picking us up, Tam,’ she said, shifting in her seat. ‘So you need to be ready for it. No fucking around. Show up on time, etcete-rah.’

  ‘You want this?’ He was asking Kara again, waving the contract in her face. She locked eyes with him. Nearby, someone dropped coins into the jukebox and an old Pixies tune started playing.

  Kara’s hand rose to her collarbone, rubbed at the hollow of her throat. ‘Yes, I want it.’

  Tam nodded slowly. ‘OK. Then I’ll be there.’

  He pulled a pen from his jacket pocket and added his signature to the page. Nobody spoke and Tam’s face was grim. It wasn’t quite the celebration Kara had been expecting and she found herself digging her nails into her palm to match the tension that was stewing the air over the table.

  ‘Rehearsals?’ Tam said, throwing the pen on the table. He kept his head bent and when Jon answered him with arrangements for their next meeting merely nodded. ‘See you then,’ he said. He got up and left without a backwards glance. The door swung closed behind him.

  As he walked past the window Kara watched through the glass. For a moment, she saw him as though she would a stranger – a young guy with troubled eyes, locked in his own private world. His shoulders were set very square and choppy strands of hair whipped around his face as he strode into the wind. Even in scuffed baseball boots and faded jeans he moved like he was in possession of some secret strong enough to carry him. Maybe it was the clean lines of his bones or the clarity of his brown eyes, but Kara sensed a quality about him that she’d never recognised before – something quiet and strong that didn’t break.

  ‘Too much testosterone,’ she murmured, turning away from the window. ‘The boy drives me up the wall.’

  Jon and Ruby said nothing, sitting twined around each other on the bench. Their hands were out of sight under the table and Kara wondered if they were playing with each other or just holding hands in that way they did, lightly and constantly, as though they
were magnetically drawn to each other. She frowned and looked away, watched the lights of the fruit machine on the other side of the bar chasing round in circles and flashing insistently.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘screw him anyway. He’s signed. And that means we’re in business.’ Raising her glass, she swilled the watery vodka in the general direction of the bar. ‘Here’s to The New Rakes. Let’s rock the fuck out of everyone.’

  Lina bumped the door open with her hip and carried the hot paper cups over to Mike’s desk. She had a few files tucked under her arm and her top two buttons were carefully undone. She wore patent-leather heels, in a deep blood red, and walked as smoothly as a dancer.

  ‘Well,’ she said, dropping into a seat and blowing on her coffee. ‘You got her to sign. That’s great.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mike, smiling at her. ‘Isn’t it?’ His eyes were dazzlingly blue, as though they’d been charged with cold, hard spring light. Lina noticed his shirt wasn’t ironed. Instead of cufflinks, he’d rolled his sleeves up in messy bunches, showing the tanned muscles of his forearms. A CD was playing on the B. & O. stereo in the corner – she recognised the flowing piano tune from long ago.

  Mike was leaning back in his chair, with thin rays of sun bursting through the window and slicing the desk between them into bright lines. Something had shifted, Lina sensed. That gaze was shockingly familiar to her, that heady, intense, powerful way he had when he was fired up with something, someone. It hit her right in the solar plexus. She inhaled and shifted her hips so that she was sitting with her spine straight.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about how to do this,’ Lina said.

  ‘I’ve booked an engineer,’ Mike said. ‘We’re recording next week.’

  ‘Fine. But there are a few other things.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  Lina pursed her lips. ‘Are we happy with how everything looks?’ She opened a file and placed a photograph on Mike’s desk. ‘This is what we have,’ she said. ‘Two girls. Attractive, good bodies, one particularly … ambitious.’ She paused to watch the smirk that rippled over Mike’s face. His hand moved to his chin in that gesture she knew so well. ‘Two boys, a little rough around the edges.’ She studied the picture of the band. ‘How will this work,’ she murmured. At last, she looked up at Mike, focused. ‘Who’s the most fuckable?’ she asked, bluntly.