Little Doll: Queens of Chaos 1

by L. J. Findlay

  Noelle grabbed my hands. “Look. I’m sure it will be fine. But remember that thing I was saying about the wind and change?” she trailed off, gazing at me, picking her nail in nervousness. Slowly, I shook my head, trying to quell the rising tidal wave of nerves. She rushed on. “So yeah, this isn’t negative or anything, but I just have a feeling about tonight. I have a feeling that everything is going to change. It’s something to do with those boys. To do with Blaise and I’m not sure if it’s entirely positive…”

  I interrupted. “Thought we were going to Paris?” because, dammit, I wanted to go to Paris. Especially now that Noelle had tapped into her intuition. I welcomed any change. Anything would be better than being Xander’s little doll.

  Releasing my hands in frustration, she exclaimed, “Are you sure, babe? I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I recognise you’re worried, but why? If it goes pear-shaped we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Isn’t that what you always say? We get ourselves into a mess, we can damn well get out of it? Also, I don’t know,” I paused, searching for the right words. “I have a feeling that we’re at a turning point. I think this is a good thing despite your intuition saying otherwise. Like, I think nothing that will happen is going to be worse than being with Xander. Also, we need to support our girl with Bastien. Wing-woman her, okay?”

  She gazed at me before sighing, “Of course.” She shook her head, “I don’t know what came over me then because we are going to fucking Paris! The adventure of all adventures. But something is coming. Something momentous. I can fucking feel it.” She smiled up at me manically, infecting me with her exuberant insanity. “Can’t wait, babe.”

  I laughed, kissing her on the head. We finished up in the bathroom and then headed out to find the guys and Gemma.

  Soon enough the taxi dropped us off at City Airport, on the tarmac. The tarmac. No lengthy security checks, overcrowded lounges, delayed flights. This was private. This was exclusive. This was way out of my depth. Sure, I knew that Xander was used to this because his parents were filthy rich. His dad was a leading CEO for a print media group and his mother was a glamorous socialite, but my family weren’t. Fine, we were comfortable but not comfortable in that we took private jets. British Airways maybe… not private jets. Certainly not to conclude a drunken pub evening.

  People chatted about this all the time… the casual, ‘oh hey, my friend’s friend woke up in Europe last weekend because she got so pissed she didn’t realise she was no longer in the UK’. How funny! And you knew all the time it was a steaming pile of bullshit but felt too polite to say anything. This time the story would be real.

  Gemma squeezed my hand, looking at me nervously as if she had picked up on the realisation that had slammed mercilessly into me, as if she could persuade me to ditch and head home like the sensible girls we should be. Noelle was dancing up ahead with the other guys, not a care in the world. It was as if recklessness rebooted her, fired her up like a firework. Her vivacious thirst for life was glowing bright and I would be lying if I said it wasn’t infectious. I squeezed Gemma’s hand reassuringly and as I was about to kiss her cheek, I felt hands come up behind me and I instinctively leant back.

  “How about you catch the others up, hm?” I heard Blaise murmur to Gemma.

  She shot me a nervous look but quickly hurried off to catch up with Noelle, who was posing like a wannabe influencer on the steps up to the plane. I laughed as Gemma clearly told her off, crowding her into the fuselage. Leaving Blaise and I alone. I gazed up at him, the feeling of desire reignited by our relative privacy bathed in shadows.

  “You wanted something?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.

  He smirked at me, cradling my cheek with his long, elegant fingers and I automatically leant into his touch, cursing my weakness. “Are you sure about this?”

  I regarded him for a few beats. “Why? Is this when you say that you are a filthy rich front for some trafficking ring?”

  “Maybe.” He considered, before regret flashed over his impassive features. “Maybe you should not be so blindly naïve. Maybe you are following the monsters you should be running and hiding from when you are tucked up, oh so sweetly, in bed.”

  “Maybe I like playing with the monsters,” I challenged, tilting my chin. The substances in my system were making me bold or maybe I was just plain sick of having to acquiesce to the men in my life who I desired. Maybe I wanted to call the shots now. Maybe I wasn’t a little fucking doll anymore.

  My defiance seemed to trigger something in Blaise who cursed. “This is such a fucking bad idea.” His hand tightened on my cheek, his lips brushed mine softly and I moaned, the touch igniting the embers of desire into an uncontrollable wildfire.

  Wrapping my hands around his neck, I kissed him harder. My tongue dancing with his, and I rubbed up against him, wanting to get impossibly closer. There was something magnetic between us. I couldn’t describe it but I could tell he felt it too. His desire pressed hard against my stomach and my core thrummed at the need for Blaise.

  He pulled back, regarding me with dark amusement. His hand rubbing my breast, pinching my diamond hard nipple and I tilted my head back, wanting ever more. He murmured, “These violent delights, have violent ends.”

  It was like a douse of cold water to my desire. Why was he quoting Shakespeare to me? He could at least have quoted anything other than a tragedy. Before I could give voice to the questions buzzing in my head, I heard Bastien snap. “Oi. Fuckers. And you say that I’m the one who’s fucking everything up by pursuing love.” I looked up and saw him hanging out of the fuselage, chuckling smugly.

  I blushed, cringing into Blaise, who stiffened slightly. “Fuck off, you absolute, bloody wanker.”

  “O-o-o-o-ooooooh… someone’s getting tetchy.”

  Sighing in frustration, Blaise barked out. “We’re fucking coming, alright?!”

  “I’m sure you are…”

  Steering me towards the plane, his arms a steel band around my shoulders, I heard Blaise shout out, like an expletive, “Delacourt!”

  Bastien disappeared into the plane and I turned to Blaise on the steps up, my eyes full of questions. He merely shook his head, pressing a finger to my lips and guiding me into the plane. Upon entering the fuselage, I saw sweet Gem being unceremoniously picked up bridal-style and deposited on Bastien’s lap. She shrieked as her flute of champagne went everywhere before nestling back in contentment. I laughed. Soppy fuckers.

  The popping of a cork and a loud screech, “Xantheeeeee!” made me chuckle. Noelle being typical Noelle. I rush up to spin her around. “Adventure time, babe.”

  I could hear Blaise sighing something that sounded suspiciously similar to, “so fucking naïve.” I ignored him because we had never been on an adventure like this before so we were damn well going to enjoy it.

  Pouting, I went to go sit next to Ludo because, despite the encounter on the tarmac, I wouldn’t let Blaise control me like that. Before I could sit next to the smirking Ludo, Blaise stood up and forced me down onto his lap, barking to the others. “Settle down you fools. We need to get going now.” Leaning back, I didn’t try to fight his iron grip and let my head loll down by his shoulder. I felt his breath dance over my neck, his hands running up my legs, desire reigniting through my body. I closed my eyes, trying to get a grip on the sensation. Blaise breathed out, “I wouldn’t be so quick to challenge me, babe. You won’t like the results.”

  “Well I think your alpha act is getting kinda old. There’s going to be a new way of doing things.”

  He stared down at me, his navy eyes storming impenetrably. “Is there now?”

  I gazed at him and pressed a kiss in assent. He chuckled, shifting me closer to him.

  Blaise

  I was utterly fucked. So fucked. Words couldn’t describe it. I couldn’t move my arms from around the girl on my lap. Her siren song had reeled me in like a drowning sailor cast adrift at sea. It was like she was Circe and had cast a charm on me. I had beha
ved rashly earlier. I had allowed myself to be provoked by Ludo. I never allowed anyone to force me to show my hand but Xanthe had withdrawn this novel reaction from me. I didn’t like it. It was fucking unsettling. It made me feel weak. Fallible.

  The world outside was dark. The only signifier that we had taken off was the low thrum of the engine taxiing to the runway. The tilt of the plane as we ascended to the skies. My stress shedded the higher we got. I shifted slightly, needing to get my phone to check the time. I was certain we were behind. I sighed. Xanthe moaned as my erection pressed harder against her. I sighed. Not only had she forced my hand early, my body couldn’t control myself around her. It was truly like she was some witch, I had had excellent control prior to this evening.

  11:00 p.m

  Fuck. The numbers glared at me. Nothing we could do now. Except that I definitely needed to burn off some tension.

  Brushing Xanthe’s ink-spill black hair to the side, I breathed into her ear. “Ever wanted access to the mile high club?”

  She tilted her head back, gazing up at me with those unusual-as-fuck eyes which I swore darkened to a deeper blue with desire. She raised her eyebrows in challenge. A challenge which I was starting to realise was her way of saying fuck you to the world. I wondered about it. She always looked somewhat startled when she realised that she had challenged me. As if it were a novel experience. “Who says I’m not already part of it?”

  “Well then you are going to forget all about him.” I scooped Xanthe up unceremoniously and made my way to the rear of the plane.

  “Going somewhere, de Vere?” Delacourt challenged, eyebrows wagging mischievously.

  Ludo stood up and glanced at Damien, mischief ripe in his eyes. Fucking tricksters, the pair of them. “I thought Damien told you that we had to share.”

  “Well, guess what?” I snapped. “I. Don’t. Fucking. Share.”

  I pushed past him and yanked the door open to the bathroom and fell in with Xanthe, locking it behind us. Fucking Mackenzie was not going to disturb us.

  She righted herself, leaning against the counter, her chest rising and falling quickly. Her pupils were dilated with desire and held mine challengingly. A dark flush had spread up her sharp cheekbones. Fuck me, I was not going to last. I had to hand it to the girl. She really did hold all the cards in this situation.

  Stalking towards her, I placed my hands on her hips, bringing her body flush against mine. She gasped. I chuckled softly, rubbing my hands up and down her sides. “So, about that boy…”

  Xanthe’s head lolled to the side, her eyes fluttering shut. I crowded her further. She had nowhere to escape. I repeated myself, my hands steadily climbing higher. “Your experience of the mile high?” When she didn’t respond, I removed my hands causing her to gasp and glare at me. I just chuckled softly. “I need an answer or I’m just going to stop.” I waved my hands in emphasis. “Now, what’s it going to be, needy girl?”

  “There was no-one. Fucking no-one, Blaise.” She huffed out in anger, frustration at her pent-up desire. Canted her hips closer, trying to entice me in, oh so ignorant about being entirely at my mercy in this tiny plane bathroom.

  I allowed her to pull me closer, whispering, “You only had to say the password, darling,” before sealing her lips with a punishing kiss. Forcing her mouth open to taste her, to claim her as mine.

  “Fuck yes,” Xanthe moaned.

  In response, I drew her closer and used one hand to pin her arms above her head, against the mirror, causing her breasts to jut out further and trapping her like a pinned butterfly. My other hand pushed down her sinfully tight jeans, which looked like they had been painted on, and I ran my hands up her smooth thighs.

  Shoving her panties to one side, I had to hold back a gasp when I felt she was dripping for me. I smiled at my naïve surprise. She wanted me just as much as I wanted her. Xanthe moaned underneath me, writhing her lithe body, trying to find release. I used more force to pin her against the mirror, strip her off the ability to move, before dropping to my knees. Forcing her legs wide, I began licking her folds, sucking her sweet juices. An intoxicating drug. I was high on her. Addicted to her. Her sweet nectar truly was a potion to keep me subservient to her will.

  “Blaise…” Her breathy moan was drawn out from my ministrations. I chuckled against her clit, the vibrations only exciting her further. She used both hands to press my face closer to her centre. To grant her the release she’s desperate for. I bit her clit none too gently, causing her to scream.

  “Shh, needy girl.”

  “Blaise… please,” she begged.

  I slicked my tongue into her entrance, causing further moans of frustration. I could feel her teetering on the edge. The sadistic side of me enjoys keeping her dancing on the knife edge. To regain some of the control she had lured from me with her enchantress ways. To remind her who was in charge. The other side of me was still in thrall to the mysterious connection spun between us two. I craved her.

  That other side won and I pulled my trousers down, entering her with a cruel, punishing thrust. She arched back at the sudden intrusion, her head hitting the mirror. “Blaise, fuck. Fuck, don’t stop.”

  I pushed my head down into her tits, biting her nipples, marking her as mine, whilst I tightened my grip around her waist and breathed in her sweet scent of vanilla. Losing myself in the sensation, the animalistic pleasure of fucking her, joining our bodies together. Hearing a litany of pleasure fall from her plump lips. Feeling her inner walls tighten around me. Milking me so hard I could see stars dancing around my periphery.

  Her tightness spurred me to one final, hard thrust, eliciting a sweet moan from her that ricocheted around the small room, as she tumbled over the edge with me. I didn’t move. I stayed between her soft tits, heaving with exertion, breathing hard, trying to catch my breath. I didn’t want to pull out. To leave the bathroom. I wanted to stay in stasis. Freeze this moment. Hidden from the reality I knew would slap us in due course. Xanthe. Just a random girl, until tonight. Now a girl who had begun to melt the hard ice of disillusionment and disdain that caused me to gaze upon the world with such ennui. Something I thought was impossible.

  Xanthe chuckled, “Fuck me, Blaise.”

  “Think I just did that, babe,” I mumbled against her tits, cringing at my sappiness.

  “And it was…incredible.” Xanthe sighed, pushing my head back and meeting my gaze with sated eyes, lazy satisfaction playing over her features.

  “Time to go back…” I paused at the brief flash of uncertainty flickering across Xanthe’s expression as I spoke. “Or stay here?” I tried again, unsure as to what triggered her.

  Her face firmed up and she smiled. “Let’s go back. Sure they’ll be wondering where we are.”

  We got dressed and I led her back to the fuselage. Typically an eruption of cheers sounded out upon our entrance. I rolled my eyes. Idiots.

  Delacourt, leapt out and threw an arm around my shoulder. “De Vere and the lovely Xanthe. Where, oh where, have you been?”

  “And what have you been up to?” Ludo added, mischief dancing across his face before aiming a petulant question at Damien. “Surely he hasn’t been hogging our toy, D?”

  He shrunk back from my murderous glare and thankfully for him Xanthe’s friend, Noelle, piped up. “Oh Lu-Lu, we could hear what they were up to!” She’s the more interesting one out of the trio. Gemma was sweet, but exactly that; sweet, sugar, and all things nice. Noelle was all things spice. Her emerald eyes challenged mine, pupils dilated.

  Not from excitement either. I could see the thin white lines racked up on the table in front of them. It would appear they had ramped up the party in anticipation of our descent to Paris. The city of lights. I turned my gaze to Xanthe. The city of love maybe. Fuck. I really was going to turn into a sappy fuck.

  Falling into a seat, I pulled her onto my lap and leant forward, racking up two sizable lines. I proffered a rolled-up note to her. “After you.”

  She looked back at me and delibe
rately chose the larger one, snorting it up with ease. She arched her eyebrows in a defiant challenge. I laughed, taking it from her, refraining from commenting. It would seem that the mysterious girl who had captivated my attention at the pub had turned into a fully dimensional puzzle. I knew that she would be good fun. I wasn’t just lured in by her siren looks, but I had assumed that she was bouncy because of excitement. The high of life.

  I had also garnered that she had recently broken up with some guy. Xander. A childhood sweetheart, but the girls had been careful to skirt the topic, to not dwell on it too much. Clearly it was still fresh in Xanthe’s mind. I smirked, correcting myself. It used to be fresh in her mind. Our little session in the bathroom should clearly have worked wonders at erasing him.

  The guys whooped and cheered, joined by the girls, most likely giddy on the choice they made and their sheer recklessness. Hell, I didn’t even know if they had passports on them. For all I knew, if we were to abandon them, they would be well and truly fucked. A sadistic smile curved my lips as I acknowledged their excitement with a raised glass.

  Soon enough, the plane hit the tarmac and the atmosphere, already fizzing with excitement, accelerated. The night beckoned.

  I tucked Xanthe under my arm as we left the plane because, goddamnit, she would be mine for the weekend. If I wasn’t granted the freedom of keeping her because of the fucked up powers-that-be who denied me freedom then I would bloody well indulge my insatiable desire this weekend. Fuck it out of my system, I thought humourlessly, as I led the others to the waiting limo.

  Xanthe

  I leant against Blaise who was holding my hand and gazing out the window. I glanced across at the girls; Gem was snuggled up to Bastien and Noelle was sprawled along one of the long seats in the limo, sipping her champagne. I smiled – of course she was trying to pretend that she was 100% au fait with this lifestyle, but I knew that girl. She was faking every second. Trying to figure out how to keep her cool, appear the unruffled ice queen, as if this was how every chilled night at the pub turned out. Casual trip to Paris. How boring it was only just across the Channel. Why stay in Europe when you could go somewhere more exotic?