by Esme Devlin
And then I’m back at it again, swirling my tongue over her clit and forcing it inside her. Back and forward, over and over until she starts shaking on the bed.
“Okay, stop,” she says through gritted teeth. I bite down on her thigh hard and she squeals. “Stop! Fucking stop.”
I drop her and she collapses back on the bed, but I don’t give her an inch. I flip her over pull my T-shirt up and over her head. I’m on her seconds later, pinning her down and spreading her legs with my knees.
“Was that you begging?” I ask her, running my lips along her jaw while she quivers under me.
She nods, then gives me a weak “Yes.”
I grin at her. “Good girl,” I murmur, giving her a peck on the lips. “See, that wasn’t so hard was it?”
She shakes her head at me and her eyes are heavy and filled with desire. It’s taking everything not to just stick my cock inside her right now, but I do want her to beg for it.
“So do it again,” I demand, holding my cock in my hand and rubbing it along her slit. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to fuck me,” she whispers, lifting her hips up to meet me while she takes my cheeks in her hands and kisses me, again and again, all over my face. “I want you to fuck me so bad I can’t stand it.”
“How?” I tell her, sliding only the tip of my cock inside her and holding it there. This is harder for me than it is for her, guaranteed.
“Hard,” she says, kissing me properly this time. I kiss her right back. “Hard as fuck, please, Shaun.” She’s talking into my mouth and I don’t give a fuck. Her words are like verbal pleasure, making my cock practically groan and my heart race to get enough blood to it. She says my name while she moans and I think I might as well explode right there.
I slam into her and watch her eyes as she shuts them tightly while she adjusts to the size of me. Her legs clamp around me to stop me from moving, but she’s useless.
She’s powerless and we both know it.
“Look at me,” I tell her, as I force my cock all the way in, not giving her a single second before I start pumping into her, hard, just like she wanted. Like she needed. Like she begged for. “Look at me Lace,” I demand. Her eyes peek open and I’m inches away from her face. “I’m never letting you go. Do you understand?”
She nods and I kiss her, I take her tongue in my mouth and I fucking devour it. “You can walk away, and I’ll come right after you,” I say. She moans under her breath and her fists come up to her head, grabbing a hold of the covers and twisting them up in her hands. Like she’s begging the mattress for mercy, as if it’ll help her.
I fucking love this.
I love watching her face, while she’s lost inside her own version of madness and knowing I’m the one who’s putting her there. I want to break her and I want to be the one to put all the little pieces back together again. And I want to do it repeatedly, a thousand times until I’m the only person in this world who knows how to fix her.
I take her hands and slam them down above her head, stretching her out and devouring her neck with my mouth.
She twists and shakes under me, and I lie still for a bit while she tilts her hips up and does her thing, grinding against me, using my body like it’s the only thing that can give her what she’s craving. “You need to get used to this, princess, cause it’s not going anywhere. I will fuck you like this til the day I die,” I growl at her, biting down hard on her neck. She bucks against me and I feel her insides clench around my cock, practically fucking milking it, as an orgasm rips right through her.
The sight of her is almost enough to tip me right over the fucking edge too, and she drags me down with her as I slam into her a final time.
Relief washes over me and for a second I forget about everything wrong that’s going on outside. I forget about all the shit that I’ve done, that she’s done, that every other cunt has done and for a moment of bliss it’s just me and her.
The only two people in the world who matter.
I roll over because honestly, I’m not sure if she’s actually still breathing, but when I do, I take her with me and she lets out this peaceful little sigh that warms my cockles.
I curl her up beside me and wrap my arm around her, letting her leg fall over my stomach and her head rest on my chest. And then we just lie there, like that, neither of us feeling the need to break the silence. I stroke her hair and she rubs my chest, and before long her breathing turns peaceful and she drifts off to sleep.
Lying next to Lacey while she sleeps is like mental and physical torture.
She’s a fidgety little fuck and if she’s not wriggling her arse up against my cock, she’s kicking me in the shin.
I’m a bad sleeper at the best of times, always have been. I was that annoying child… didn’t matter how long my ma’ let me stay up late at night, I’d always ping awake at five in the morning ready for action like some sort of sick microwave-meal joke. I really hope I don’t get a kid like that, when the time comes.
I slide out of bed, careful not to wake Lace, and fumble about in the dark for my jeans. I find my phone in there, it’s ten past two in the morning and I feel restless. I shove my jeans on and get a clean T-shirt from the drawer before slipping out of the room and heading down the stairs.
I intend to go straight for the car but the light’s on in the sitting room, and I see my dad on the sofa, a beer in his hand and the boxing on the TV.
“That you, son?” he shouts from his seat, not turning around.
“Aye. Can’t sleep, going for a drive,” I tell him. I need to go and get Lacey her uniform. Whether or not she’ll need it tomorrow is something I’ve not yet decided, suppose it’ll depend on her attitude when she wakes up. I’ve fallen for her I’ll fuck you tonight and drop you in the morning before, and I won’t let her fool me twice.
“Come in. Take a look at this for a knockout,” he says, picking up the controls and hitting rewind. He presses play and I take a seat on the other side of the couch. “You wanting a can?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
He nods and grunts, not taking his eyes off the TV. I watch the hit that deals the final blow, and he was right, it’s impressive. It makes me uncomfortable but I don’t look away.
He’d scramble me alive if he caught me looking away.
“Fucking waste, you know that, eh? You could have been professional by now. You’re better than half of these pricks,” he tells me, pointing the controls in their general direction.
I shrug. “I could have my license back by the winter if I could be arsed with finishing the community service.”
“How much you got left?” he asks.
I shrug. “Dunno… maybe like eighty hours.”
He puts the can to his mouth and finishes it off before crushing it in his hands. “And the anger management course or sessions or whatever they were?”
“Och, Scoot made his dad get that added in for a joke. I’ve told him to make sure he gets it wiped.”
My dad laughs, which is unusual for him. “You might have learned something there.”
“I’d manage my anger better if people managed to not fuck me off,” I tell him.
He chuckles and goes back to watching the boxing. “I want you back in that gym, son. I’ll speak to Andy about getting the sentence wiped.”
Andy already got the sentence reduced, it could have been a lot worse. I don’t tell him that I’ve no real interest in getting back into it, because that would be pointless and he’d want to know why.
I get up from the sofa thinking we’re done, but my dad stops me.
“Where’s the girl?” he asks, opening up another can.
“Her name is Lacey,” I correct him, even though he knows it. I turn back around so we’re facing each other. “She’s in my room, sleeping.”
He nods at me. “And do I get to meet her? Or were you planning on doing that after you gave her our last name?”
I shrug. “Meet her if it makes you feel better, but understand, Da, she’
ll be part of this family as much as the rest of us and I have no intention of treating her the way you treat my mum.”
The corners of his lips perk up in a smile and he looks away from me and watches the TV again. “Nothing to worry about from me, son. I like this lassie already. She’s clearly ripped you a new backbone.”
Chapter 7
LACEY
“Wakey wakey, Lacey Lacey.”
Fuck off.
I don’t say that, but I want to.
“Come on, get up lassie.”
He does a few claps and I roll over and look at him. He’s in his uniform, which for him is jet black smart jeans and a white shirt. Are we going to school today?
“What time is it?” I ask him.
“Time for you to be getting up. Here, drink this,” he says, holding out a mug for me.
I sit up and bed and take it off him. The smell of coffee has my powder-mouth elated, but I take a drink and almost spit it right back out. I would have, if I wasn’t so thirsty. My nose wrinkles and I feel myself frowning, can’t help it.
“How many spoons of coffee did you put in this?”
Shaun shrugs, busying himself in the corner of the room doing who knows what. “Dunno, three maybe? I just poured it straight from the jar. How many do you take?”
I shake my head at him. “Not three, anyway.”
“Noted.” He turns around and watches me while he rolls his sleeves up and puts his watch on. “Did you find your answer at the tip of an orgasm last night then?”
I look down at the coffee cup. “No.”
“No?”
“Not a no, and still not a yes,” I tell him.
“You tease.” He picks up a bag from the floor and puts it down on the bed at my feet. My school bag.
“You’re letting me go to school?” I say, raising my eyebrows.
His face changes to a smirk and he stands at the end of the bed. “You prefer the basement, darlin?” He leans over and puts his hand under the cover, trailing along the bottom of the mattress until he finds my foot and grabs my ankle. “You missing your chain? There would be time for a quick session if you skip the 45 minute shower this morning?”
“Fuck off!” I chuckle, jerking my leg away from him and instantly shitting myself when the mug in my hand takes the impact. “I’ve got piping hot coffee!”
“Well, get it drunk and get yourself dressed and get your arse downstairs. Your clothes are on the chair,” he says, turning away and heading for the door.
He leaves the room and I try another drink but I honestly can’t even… It’s awful.
I get up out of bed and take a stretch. His room smells like him. Kind of like a mix of deodorant and aftershave and sweat and sex. It’s not unpleasant, it’s just potent as fuck.
I walk around the bed and open up the window to let some air in.
I wasn’t paying much attention yesterday, for obvious reasons, but his room is about what you’d expect for a teenage boy. Mostly everything is grey, or black, or white. Grey walls, black covers. The only colour comes from the green and orange of a football scarf that’s hanging down with his curtains.
Its clean though, and pretty tidy. Tidier than my room, anyway. I hadn’t expected that. He’s such a chaotic person that I’d have thought his room would be chaotic too, but everything is in its place.
I look over at his chest of drawers. A small TV, completely obscured by trophies, and medals hanging on the wall behind it.
There’s a single picture in a frame and I go over to it. It’s him but he’s much younger, perhaps ten or eleven. You can pick him out straight away from his dark hair and tanned skin. He has his arm around Calvin’s neck and Tony, Scoot and Doeboy sit next to them. They’re in a pub, or like a dancehall or something, mid laugh, and their eyes drip with mischief. They look like the lost boys or maybe a band of little savages. I remember what Alice told me about him looking for trouble since the day he was born and I can see it captured in this photo.
I put it down and go for a shower. He might have brought me clothes, but he failed massively on all the other stuff I need to get ready, so I come out with no conditioner on my hair and smelling like men’s body wash.
Smelling like Shaun.
Brilliant.
I’m drying myself when I hear a noise in the hall and Shaun comes barging into the room.
“Fucks sake woman, you’re not even dressed yet?!” he says, looking at me in my towel with a frown marring his perfect face.
“You’ve only been away twenty minutes!” I tell him.
“Eg-fucking-xactly. If you keep stalling like we have all the time in the world, I’ll take that to mean we have time for a blowjob.”
I roll my eyes at him while I dry myself with the towel. “I’d go much faster if you fucked right off.”
He chuckles and shuts the door, before shouting from the other side, “Be quick, my old man wants to meet you afore he leaves for work.”
I stop what I’m doing. He cannot be serious. This is the man who wanted rid of us so desperately, that he set his thug of a son loose and told him I was #1 target.
I try not to think about the fact I’ve just spent the night in that thug of a son’s bed.
Nope. Not doing it.
I get dressed anyway and sit on his bed, wishing I had my phone so I could pass the time better. It’s not even ten minutes later, and he’s back up the stairs, crashing into the room like a bull in a china shop.
“What are you doing?”
I look down at myself, lying on his bed. “What it looks like.”
He rolls his eyes. “I know what you’re doing, wide-o, what I’m asking is why.”
“I don’t want to meet your dad!” I tell him.
He does a little huff and comes and sits on the bed beside me, before turning towards me and petting his lip. “Is the little princess scared?”
“Should I be?!” I shake my head at him and he just chuckles.
“Everyone’s scared of my dad. But he’s not going to carve you up or poison your porridge. He told me last night he likes you,” he says with a shrug and an amused smile.
I wonder if the whole family is just genuinely a bit mental. The gran, the dad, the son. They say that, don’t they? Madness runs in families. Like that family with the dragons from the TV. Every one of them utterly mad. I think you’d have to be, to go from being hell bent on destroying someone to liking them — before you’ve even met them. I sigh. “Do I even have a choice?”
“Absolutely not,” he says. He’s trying to keep his tone stern and his face serious but his eyes betray him.
I haul myself up off the bed and follow him down the stairs.
He leads me to the table we sat at last night. The man from the photo in the news article — it was his dad after all — and his sister are already seated, his dad with his eyes fixed on the back page of a newspaper and his sister with her face in her phone.
“Grab a seat, darlin, I’ll get your breakfast,” he says, squeezing behind me and heading to the kitchen.
“It’s okay, I’m not—” But he’s already away before I can finish.
I take a seat across from his sister, and she looks up from her phone and smiles at me.
“Shaun’s Mrs — my dad, Jim. Dad — Shaun’s Mrs, Lacey.” She introduces us and her dad nods at me. Another Jim, how creative. “And I’m Heather, we’ve met before but I was… eh it was that day in school.” I think back to when I did meet her, and the state she was in. So her dad mustn’t have found out about that…
“Nice to meet you,” I tell them both, before looking down at my place mat.
Hashtag awkward.
Shaun comes back relatively quickly and puts a bowl full of steaming hot porridge in front of me, before he takes the seat next to mine with his own.
I pick up the spoon, blowing it a little bit before I taste it.
It’s quite possibly the blandest thing I’ve ever had in my mouth, bar water.
Heather must cloc
k my expression because she pushes a little silver jug across the table to me. “You just need to keep adding syrup til it tastes edible,” she says. “Unless you’re a fucking weirdo like Shaun and want some salt?”
Shaun flashes a smile at her and goes back to wolfing down his food.
“Syrups good I guess, thanks.” I take her advice and try again, and this time it’s actually alright.
We sit eating in a kind of uneasy, awkward silence until their dad puts down his paper, and I feel his eyes on me across the table. “Why don’t you tell us about your parents, Lacey?”
I glance over at him, shovelling the food that’s already on my spoon into my mouth and swallowing it down before I answer. “There’s really not that much to tell.”
He does a half chuckle that’s not particularly friendly and continues to stare at me. “I’m sure there must be some stories. He’s a big name in the oil industry, your dad.”
There’s something in his tone that sounds threatening, and I don’t much care for it. Like he’s actively trying his best to make me feel uncomfortable. “I’m sure you probably know more than I do,” I tell him.
“I’m sure if I did, your dad wouldn’t still be a problem.” This time his eyes are dancing when I look at him, and the threat is unmistakable.
“Da’,” Shaun says, stopping his eating and turning around to watch us.
“Why don’t you tell us about your parents, Shaun?” I ask Shaun — but I look right at his dad when I say it.
I remember the first night I met Shaun, when he did exactly the same thing to me, and how fucking menacing it felt to be on the receiving end of it. Not saying I’m menacing, I’m about half as big as a minute, but it felt good to do it, nonetheless.
I hear Shaun suppressing a chuckle behind me. Jim regards me for a moment and then his face cracks and he throws his head back laughing. “I fucking told you I liked her already, son, and I was right.”
Shaun drives the both of us to school. I asked him if he could take me to collect my car, but apparently that wasn’t an option. Why — I do not know. And I didn’t bother fighting with him about it, either. I’ll see if Stevie can give me a lift home after school if he’s still refusing.
