Marbella Neat

by Camille Oster

  “Not after I tell them all the shit you’ve done to me.”

  “I’ve done to you?”

  “Everyone knows how much you hate me,” she said, panting from the exertion. She tried to wrench herself out of his grip, but he held tight. He seriously was stronger than she’d ever given him credit for.

  “Can you blame me?”

  “Yes.”

  He still wasn’t letting go, even with her tugging. “I never wanted you,” he said quietly, his eyes switching between hers. They both knew there was a time when that hadn’t been true. He’d wanted her and she hadn’t sacrificed everything for him, and he would never forgive her. It was unspoken, but the truth was there in the open between them. Shit. All this because he was hurt about that. The care-about-nothing rich boy had been hurt because she’d left him in the dust. That was what this was all about.

  She could rub it in that he’d wanted her a great deal and this bullshit was all about how much he’d wanted her, but it felt cruel somehow. It was true, though; he’d just been a lay, nothing more. She’d never taken him seriously, seeing him as weak and useless, and too self-absorbed to have any genuine feelings. Okay, fine, she’d been a bit of a bitch.

  Somehow the world turned and they were kissing—hot, demanding lips. Desire surged so strong, she lost all sense of understanding, but needed to feel his skin. Frantic hands sought inside his shirt, the smooth skin that felt both familiar and foreign.

  Pressed down, her back was on the table and urgent lips teased her neck, hands were up her skirt and he was soon nestled between her thighs. This all felt dirty, forbidden and impossible at once, and absolutely unstoppable. She needed his lips again and they were there, his tongue plunging into her mouth. She couldn’t breathe and didn’t care. A levy inside her had broken and this flowed out, unstoppable and drowning everything in its path.

  Hard fingers tore her panties and she begged for friction, her legs parting farther to welcome him. She needed him more than she’d ever needed anyone. Now was not the time to wonder why. Compared to the aching need inside her, analytical thoughts stood no chance. Yes, there would be bad consequences from this, but she would have to pay that price later. Right now, it seemed a price she was willing to pay.

  She moaned as his cock pressed inside her. Sensations felt like a tornado, bulldozing everything in its path. Her legs cradled him as he buried himself in her. His groans filled her ears and his eyes had become glassy and distant, even as he stared straight into hers.

  A jerky grind of his hips to hers made compelling and cloying pleasure surge through every part of her. She was unable to respond, to move—caught in this maelstrom of sensation and emotion. All that hate and pain had transformed into this physical coupling, a way of releasing. It, in no way, was smooth and elegant; this was expression in its purest form—a celebration of hatred.

  Searching lips found hers again, biting down on her lower lip. Possession. That had always been his problem. He wanted to possess her and she didn’t want it—didn’t want him. Still didn’t, which was funny as they were effectively fucking each other’s brains out right now.

  A hard thrust ground her down into the hard table beneath her and she dug her nails into his flesh in return, wanting to hurt him as much as he hurt her. The pain wasn’t entirely putting her off, instead making this whole thing more complex. The pleasure was relentless, driving her on. Part of it was knowing he had to do this in spite of how much hated her. It went both ways. She didn’t pretend it was a logical thing.

  Another hard thrust sent her higher, the tension in her body building impossibly. Straining against it, her body drew together, coming powerfully around him as he arched above her in a stifled cry. Waves of pleasure washed over her, still in some ways, unwilling to accept this was happening. Her body was betraying her, but she couldn’t stop it.

  Sinking down, he lay on her, his breath heavy in the crook of her neck, his chest contracting and expanding furiously. The taste of him lingered in her mouth, sweet and familiar, and she hated it. Her body was a furnace, pumping out heat, the weight of him pressing her down, almost as much as her own disappointment in herself.

  Chapter 40

  The design of Megan’s house, or rather her parents’ house, clashed a bit. Her mother preferred a classic British country look, which didn’t really work with the more contemporary architecture of the house itself, but it would be mad to build an English country house on the Spanish coast. Hence, they tolerated the clash of design, and Mrs. Flintwell could tolerate the more contemporary look everywhere but the kitchen—which had the obligatory Aga, wooden cabinetry with antique fixtures.

  Megan waited for Aggie to arrive, who had called half an hour earlier to say she was coming over. Ever since the breakup, Megan had been getting these welfare calls from Aggie, which was nice. It showed that she cared.

  “Hey,” Aggie called from the door and walked in, wearing a nice McCartney outfit. It was last season, but looked good for an early morning coffee.

  After kissing cheeks, they wandered outside, each with a coffee, and Megan wondered if she should offer some pastries or something. They didn’t have pastries in the house, but maybe she should have ordered some for the occasion. “Are you hungry?”

  “Too early to eat,” Aggie said to Megan’s relief. “How are you?”

  “I’m alright.”

  The chairs were slightly damp from the previous night and the sun hadn’t found enough heat to evaporate it yet. It would only last fifteen minutes or so before it was gone.

  The pool looked still and the coastline was hazy in the distance. Aggie’s place was nearby, so she hadn’t travelled far. “What have you got planned for the week?” Megan asked.

  Aggie shrugged. “You remember Anders?”

  The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Megan couldn’t recall anyone specifically.

  “He’s having an exhibition of his photography tonight,” Aggie continued.

  “That will be nice.”

  “You should come.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Megan said, feeling too distracted for a photography exhibition. He obviously wasn’t in fashion, or she would have heard of him. In fact, she felt distracted from a lot of things lately. This strange mood had settled on her, and at first, it was the breakup, but it had morphed into something else—something that made her feel lethargic and distant. It was a bit of a funk she couldn’t define. A photography exhibition just didn’t fire her, which was strange because she could usually bring herself to adore creative efforts, even if they were quite crap. But there was a place her mind kept returning to. “I might head over to Virtue tonight.”

  Aggie’s eyebrows rose in surprise. She didn’t say anything for a moment, just sat there. “Are you sure?” There was clear uncertainty in her voice.

  “I just feel I should be there.”

  “The launch went really well. I think they can take it from here.”

  How could she explain that she felt she needed to be there? It was like her life was there and anything else felt colourless.

  “You’d only be punishing yourself seeing him in that environment.”

  It took Megan a moment to realise Aggie was talking about Ricky. Actually, it hadn’t been Ricky she’d been thinking about—it was Jesus. Ricky was only a messiness at the periphery these days. Should she feel terrible that she was over that relationship? Was it too soon to be over what Ricky had done to her? It sucked and was mortally embarrassing, but she also felt that she didn’t want to lose this relationship she had with Jesus. Granted, it was a business relationship—but one that could so easily slip away now that the club was launched. “I think Jesus could use my support.”

  Aggie looked unconvinced, which was what made Megan feel more frantic—because he didn’t really need her anymore. He had what he needed. That was the thing with Jesus—he was so self-contained, he didn’t need anything.

  “The thing with Ricky wasn’t really a serious thing anyway,” Megan said.
r />   “You were thinking of moving in together,” Aggie pointed out.

  “And wasn’t that a lucky escape?” Megan said with a tight chortle, which she wasn’t entirely sure came across as convincing. How could she explain that she’d been having sexy dreams about her ex’s boss? Even the thought made her blush. And if something were to happen, would everyone assume this was some way at getting back at Ricky? Which it really wasn’t. At least she didn’t think so. Okay, this infatuation had started when Jesus had been kind to her after Ricky doing the dirty on her, but it had taken on its own life. Maybe it was a rebound thing, but thinking of Jesus was making her feel slightly bewildered. “I can’t let Ricky chase me away from somewhere, can I? I just need to learn to be comfortable around him.”

  “That’s a great stance to take,” Aggie said. “We can go after the exhibition, if you insist.”

  “Okay,” Megan said, feeling instant relief from something pressuring her. She would see Jesus that night. That relief almost felt like an addiction. Was she addicted to the sexy Spanish guy? Next to him, how could she even have looked at Ricky and why hadn’t she noticed Jesus before when he’d been around for ages? But she would see him that night and she was ecstatic.

  Perhaps they could talk about what they could do to work on the club’s image, take it to that next level. She had no idea what she was referring to, but surely there was some use of her contacts and fame (she hated using the word) they could leverage.

  Virtue was pumping again. There was a line in the carpark full of girls in tight dresses and heavy makeup. The bouncer let them through. Megan was, after all, the image of the place. It only served the club to have her there.

  Immediately, she searched for Jesus, but couldn’t see him anywhere. There wasn’t room, but one of the hostesses guided them to a table in the VIP section.

  Ricky was playing, of course, and Megan spied him up on his platform, feeding on the adoration of the slags in the crowd. She still felt a twinge seeing him there, but it wasn’t more than a twinge, because she’d much rather see Jesus than Ricky.

  “You okay?” Aggie asked, still concerned about her being upset at seeing Ricky.

  “Is it awful of me if I’m not completely bothered about being in the same place as him?”

  “Are you being honest with yourself? Because there is a good chance that you might see something you don’t like.”

  “I suppose there’s little point in expecting him to show some respect and not slobber over some girl in front of me.”

  Aggie scrunched up her lips which communicated she was doubtful. “He might,” she replied in such a high tone it couldn’t even hide how unlikely she thought it. “I’m not sure he can help it, even if he wants to.”

  “That’s really sad for him, but you don’t have to be so worried for me. Even if I don’t like what he did, I’m not a mess about him. Honestly, I’m over it,” she shrugged.

  “Good for you,” Aggie said with a slight shove on her wrist, then turned her attention back to Ricky.

  For some reason, Megan didn’t want to tell Aggie that the nerves causing havoc in her stomach had nothing to do with Ricky, and everything to do with the dark, brooding enigma called Jesus. Even thinking of him made butterflies flare in her stomach.

  “You should move on,” Aggie said absently, still distracted.

  “I think you’re right,” Megan said quietly, her attention in the other direction.

  Chapter 41

  The crowd was strong and ready to cut loose. Virtue was the place to be and it was hard to get in, which was a shame. Ricky wanted every person who wanted to be there to experience this place. The more the better, in his eyes.

  It was different working outdoors; it added something. The warm breeze cleared away the sweaty heat that was naturally part of a club, and that wasn’t a bad thing. It also gave the distinct impression that they were in paradise, that they were lucky to be there—that this was something special.

  Over the crowd, Ricky spotted Megan over in the VIP section. He’d wondered when she’d be back and he was glad she wasn’t staying clear. Her blond hair was straight and caressed her shoulder when she moved. She looked good; there was no denying it. The skirt had odd tailoring in his book, but some of the stuff she wore, he didn’t get. There was no denying she was the most fashionably dressed person there, but it wasn’t always attractive in his estimation. Still, she was a mint girl.

  Since the night of the launch, he’d been thinking back on their relationship and why it had failed—questions he’d never really asked himself before. If he couldn’t make a go of it with a girl like Megan, who could he make a go with? Was he the kind of guy who could never settle down with a girl? That was kind of a depressing, though, because he didn’t want to do this forever. He’d always assumed once he’d met someone good enough, he would settle, but that hadn’t happened. Megan had been good enough, but it hadn’t been enough. So what was?

  Maybe he just hadn’t realised at the time that she was good enough. After all, it didn’t get better, did it? She was gorgeous, celebrated, rich, fashion-forward to an undeniable degree, and had the world at her fingertips. It was she that had made this job at Shine happen. He should have been more appreciative. He should have at least tried to be loyal. Instead, he’d ended up hurting a cool girl.

  This was his fault and maybe it was up to him to remedy it.

  As he watched, a waitress brought over a frosted blue Champagne bucket to Megan and Aggie. Maybe it was time for a trip over there.

  Asking Jace over, he handed over the reins before stepping down. A girl approached him, with nice, round breasts and he had to check his resolve for a moment. This girl was fine, and by the look of her, offered a quick fuck anywhere he wanted it. See, there was the problem: it was so easy to get distracted by these girls and it really meant nothing—as meaningful as tugging himself off in the shower. And for this, he’d hurt Megan.

  “Maybe later, babe,” he said and extricated himself out of her grip. He didn’t absolutely shut her down—that would be rude. Also, the urge might become compelling later. The thought snuck in and he told himself off for it. Old habits were hard to break.

  “Hey,” he said as he arrived in the VIP section, cornered off on a slightly elevated platform. There wasn’t a rope or anything cordoning it off, but there was a bouncer that kindly suggested these seats were taken.

  Aggie looked up first. “Ricky,” she said with surprise. “How are you?”

  Megan turned to him, but Ricky couldn’t exactly read her expression.

  “Good,” he replied. “Just thought I would come over and say hi.”

  “That is very thoughtful of you.”

  “You look great,” he said to Megan. Well, he assumed it was a good look for the fashion conscious; otherwise she wouldn’t be wearing it. That skirt made her legs look super thin.

  “Thanks,” she said with a small smile, tucking her silky hair behind her ear.

  “I saw you coming in. After everything that’s happened, you still catch my attention before anyone here.”

  Megan pursed her lips and looked uncomfortable.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” he admitted, “seeing all the things I did wrong and how I never really gave it a chance. I’ve told you before, but I’m sorry for that. I still think about you all the time.”

  He was conscious that Aggie was sitting back as far as she could with her champagne glass tucked up to her chest. Like a loyal girlfriend, she would not leave Megan alone right now. Ricky got that.

  “I know I need to work through my issues, because only that would explain how I could give up a girl like you. I can’t keep doing this same shit like I always have. It’s not getting me where I want to go, you know?”

  Megan was proper looking at him now. He had her attention. It was time to reel her in.

  “Obviously, I don’t deserve it, but would you have lunch with me tomorrow?”

  Dinner was too much to ask, too intimate
and conveying expectations. Lunch was respectful as a first step to reunite. He’d used it as a tactic to get with girls before—granted, not to get back with one, as such, but the theory was the same.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Megan said.

  Ricky got it. She was holding out. He couldn’t blame her. Girls liked guys to work for it. Showed commitment.

  “I understand,” he said, laying it on a bit with his eyes. “I hurt you and you’re wary.”

  “I just think it wouldn’t have worked for us. We’re just too different.”

  Well, she had certainly changed her tune, and this was dumping talk if he ever heard it.

  “I don’t know, we seemed to get on really well together, as I recall.”

  “I think I just wanted it so much, you know?” Megan said. “But it was never right. Maybe I always knew that. I’m sorry.”

  Ricky’s jaw dropped open. She really was dumping him. She couldn’t be serious. “So that’s it? No second chances?”

  “I don’t think it would serve either of us going there,” she said, almost pityingly. For a moment, Ricky wanted to act like a child and blow up, but there were too many people around to witness him losing his cool and he didn’t want to be that guy. Getting publicly dumped would not do anything for his rep.

  “Your loss,” he said, still not quite able to get over his surprise.

  “I better go see how things are,” she said and hastily stood up, grabbing her clutch and walking off on her bird-thin legs.

  What the fuck had just happened? It was like he’d just been excused.

  “I take it that didn’t go as expected,” Aggie said.

  “I guess I’ve gotta give her some more time, eh? Or is she a one strike and you’re out kind of girl?”

  “Megan normally hangs on to the bitter end, so I think this means she’s over it.”