Tattoos & Tears (Complete Collection)

by Amiee Louise

  Cole chuckles low and throaty. I take another swig of whiskey and hang my head.

  “She’s fucking with my head man. She’s adamant she doesn’t want to be with me, but in the next breath, she’s fucking me like a porn star. She’s just one massive contradiction after another.”

  Cole goes to speak, but he is interrupted by my phone ringing. I see her name flash up on my phone. I swipe the screen and connect the call.

  “Hello?” I say gruffly.

  “I’m at a club called #W1K in Mayfair. If you want to fuck me, come now.”

  Before she gives me a chance to answer, the line goes dead.

  Fuck me.

  11

  Peyton

  I can’t get away from the restaurant fast enough, and before I know it, I have removed my heels and I’m running as fast as my legs can carry me, heading for no particular destination. I stop for a second, and I take in my surroundings. I am in Mayfair, which is a place that is unfamiliar to me. I look up and down the street; I seem to have successfully ditched Jack Scott and Kai, my security detail. I take a breath and try to calm my racing thoughts. I need to drink, dance, fuck and forget all about this awful night. One which started off so perfectly. I lean against an estate agents window to put my heels back on and begin to walk down the street.

  I come to a club called ‘#W1K’. The music is pumping, and it seems like a good a place as any to drink and dance. I walk confidently to the entrance, and the large bouncer at the door nods and smiles in my direction, dropping the royal blue rope to allow me inside. I pay my entry fee and step into the main vestibule of the club. It is as elegant as it looks from the outside, with its royal blue and light grey theme. The seating area is filled with blue velvet booths, and the bar fills the left side of the club with its white marble bar top and soft blue lighting. I order a vodka and cranberry and down it almost in one gulp.

  Fuck, I needed that after the night I’ve had.

  I don’t know what comes over me, call it Dutch courage from the vodka I just drank, but before I can get my thoughts together, I pull my phone out and dial Sam. It rings twice before he answers.

  “Hello?”

  I order another drink and I boldly say, “I’m at a club called #W1K in Mayfair. If you want to fuck me, come now.”

  Then I hang up.

  ***

  I’m not sure how much time passes, but as I’m perched on a bar stool, my skin starts to prickle and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. That’s when I know Sam is here. As one song fades into the next, one of my favourite songs starts to play. I get down from my bar stool and make my way through the crowd of people and onto the dance floor. I can feel his eyes on me as soon as I start to move my hips to the pumping beat of the remix version of Mirrors by Justin Timberlake. The beat is surging through my veins, lighting me up from the inside, making me feel alive. I swing my hips suggestively in my leopard print and leather playsuit, which highlights my impressive assets and accentuates my figure. I feel sexy and powerful as my skin starts to heat.

  That’s when I spot him. He exudes sexiness, and he is wearing loose jeans, an Iron Maiden t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. His hair is styled into soft raven spikes and he looks delicious; definitely the epitome of a bad boy rock star. His strong jaw is tight and his plump pink lips are set into a straight line. I notice he isn’t smiling as I lower myself to the floor and back up again, running my hands erotically down my sides. His blazing green eyes are focused firmly on my body, and I can feel his eyes licking flames against my skin. I close my eyes and let the music wash over me, twisting my head and my shoulders easily to the left and the back to the right. I have to admit, I am secretly enjoying teasing him from across the crowded dance floor.

  As I slowly open my eyes, I feel a large, strong hand slide around my waist and press flat against my stomach. I am instantly aware that it isn’t Sam.

  “Dance with me, beautiful,” a male voice with a broad Manchester accent says close to my ear, and I start to bump and grind with Mr. Manc.

  My back is to his chest as we move in time to the music. He is moving fluidly with me as my eyes lock with Sam’s. His green eyes are fierce, and he looks positively murderous. As Mr. Manc and I continue our sensual dance to the pulsing rhythm of Justin Timberlake, I can sense the rage coming off Sam in large tsunami like waves. I grind my arse against the obvious bulge tenting in Mr. Manc’s trousers and step up my game. I spin around until I am facing Mr. Manc, and I look up into his eyes. The lighting in the club makes it difficult for me to make out the colour. He smiles a bright, cheesy grin that wouldn’t look out of place in a toothpaste advert. He is tall, lean, and has laughter lines around his eyes, which add to his attractiveness. His blonde hair is pulled into a neat man bun, and his black V-neck t-shirt clings to his body, as do his deep burgundy jeans. He is extremely handsome.

  “Hey gorgeous,” he says with that wide grin.

  I smile back and lean in close to his ear.

  “Hey yourself.”

  He chuckles as he wraps his lean arm around me and pulls me closer to him. He grinds his hips into me to the beat of the music. I hear someone clear their throat behind us. The hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention, and my body instantly recognises him, sensing his presence before I see his face. Sam.

  “Do you mind if I cut in, mate?” he rasps, and Mr. Manc raises his eyebrows.

  “I don’t think so, mate. Find your own, this one’s mine. There’s plenty to choose from.”

  Shit. Definitely the wrong thing to say. It’s like dangling a piece of meat in front of a hungry lion.

  “I don’t think I heard you right, mate.”

  I want to say something to stop the inevitable fight, but I am frozen to the spot. All I can do is watch the proverbial dick-swinging contest unfolding in front of me.

  “I said find your own, mate.”

  Mr. Manc emphasises the word ‘mate’ and Sam nods, smirking cockily.

  “That’s what I thought you said,” Sam says calmly.

  “Look, what’s your fucking problem, mate?” Mr. Manc says with an edge to his voice.

  Sam smirks.

  “Number one, I’m not your fucking mate, and number two, you’ve got your filthy hands all over something that belongs to me.”

  Mr. Manc regards me intently.

  Belong to him? What the fuck?

  “Is that true, babe? Do you belong to him?”

  Before I can protest, Sam grabs me by the wrist and pulls me away.

  “Do not say a fucking word,” Sam says low and menacingly as he leads me towards the exit.

  Except we don’t leave, he takes a sharp turn jerking me to the side and pulling me into the ladies’ toilets. He’s obviously been here before. He checks each cubicle for occupants by kicking the doors open with his boot. When he is happy we’re alone, he pulls me forcefully into a cubicle and locks it behind us. His large frame takes up the majority of the space, and I am effectively trapped between the wall and Sam’s hard chest. His scent is enveloping me, intoxicating me, and pulling me deeper under his spell. He puts his large hand around my throat and squeezes. He doesn’t squeeze hard, but he puts just enough pressure to let me know he’s in charge.

  “Did you enjoy fucking teasing me? Did you?” he says through clenched teeth. “You called me to come here and fuck you, and then I watched you grinding your arse against that bloke, fucking taunting me. Were you deliberately trying to make me jealous?”

  I go to speak, but he moves his hand from around my throat and places his finger against my lips.

  “Think very fucking carefully about your answer, angel. Because right now, my self-control is hanging on by a fucking thread.”

  The possessive look in his green eyes actually scares me, and I have never seen Sam so out of control. His eyes are wide, dark, and menacing as he looks down at me.

  “I...”

  I am at a loss for what to say and come to a sudden realisation. I do not belong to
Sam, not anymore.

  “You know what, Sam? Fuck you! I don’t have to answer to you. You don’t fucking own me! Yeah, I called you to come and fuck me, and yeah, maybe I was making you jealous. And what? That guy actually wanted me, and yeah, I would have let him take me home and let him fuck me until it was his name I was screaming!” I shout, and he punches the door with his fist, growling loudly.

  “ENOUGH WITH THE FUCKING MIND GAMES, PEYTON! YOU ARE FUCKING MINE! DON’T YOU GET THAT? MINE!” he roars and thrusts his hips into me, showing me the evidence of his arousal.

  “Jesus, you fucking grind my gears like no one else, angel,” he says huskily before he reaches round the back of my playsuit and unzips it, exposing my lacy underwear.

  He yanks the playsuit down my body and expertly undoes my bra one-handed. I palm his hardness through his jeans and he growls.

  “FUCKKK!”

  He drops my clothes to the floor and tears my knickers off, the ripping sound echoing around the cubicle. I feel exposed and naked, in more ways than one. My breasts feel heavy and ache to have his hands on them. He expertly laps my nipple with his talented tongue. I cry out at the delicious torture. The throbbing between my thighs is so unbearable. I'm close to begging him to shove his cock in me, just to sate my greedy pussy’s needs. My sex floods as he continues his assault on my nipples, and I feel wanton, squirming in agony waiting for him to fill me. This virile, God-like creature, who owns every inch of me, who worships me. The look in his green eyes almost pushes me over the edge as I urge him with my baby blues to take me, to fuck me primally and animalistically. He releases my nipple with a pop and spins me around to face the cubicle wall. I can feel his warm breath on my neck, and I shiver at the way his hard body feels pressed against mine.

  “Palm the wall, angel, this is going to be quick and hard. Do you fucking understand me?” he says gruffly, and I nod, oddly turned on by his dominance.

  I do as he says, and I hear him unzip his jeans, lowering his boxer briefs just enough to give me access to his already hard cock. My thighs feel slick with my arousal; I have never been this turned on. He reaches around and squeezes my neck in his large hand. He leans forward and I can feel his warm breath on my neck as his scent envelopes me. Every nerve in my body is on fire as he nips my neck with his teeth. The scrape of his stubble on my already too sensitive skin causes me to shiver. His other hand snakes down my stomach and he finds my swollen clit. I moan out loud as his finger swipes up my wetness.

  “Jesus fucking Christ! You're always wet for me, angel,” he growls.

  “Sam,” I whimper, and he squeezes my neck.

  “Shhh, angel, you need to be quiet. I’ll take care of you.”

  He moves his hand away from my aching cleft, and I feel him fist his cock behind me. He rubs the head against me, and I push back towards him.

  “Ah, ah, angel. You might have been the one to call me, but I’m the one in charge now. I say when. Don’t fucking push me; you need to be taught that if you play games with me, you will fucking lose,” he bites out.

  I go to spin round, but he pushes me face forward to the wall with a firm grip. I feel him lean down, and I turn my head slightly to see what he is doing. He picks up my torn knickers from the floor and reaches up to grab my hands. He holds both of my wrists in one of his hands and expertly ties my hands behind my back with my discarded underwear.

  “Turn around, I won’t fucking tell you again. I’m in charge, and you need to learn that you own me, just as I own you. You know every corner of my heart, just as I know every corner of yours, angel.”

  I shiver at his sweet words, and before I can speak, he pushes me against the wall and enters me. I gasp at the sudden invasion and push back to meet his every thrust. He uses my tied hands to gain leverage, to establish a rhythm. He starts to pick up his pace, and he pounds me into the cubicle wall.

  “Angel,” he growls low and huskily in my ear.

  I mewl quietly as I hear the door open and the click of heels against the floor tiles. I turn my head to the side and Sam puts his finger to his lips as he expertly swivels his hips, teasing me. With every thrust, I feel his piercing rub against my g-spot; it feels so good, I want to cry out. I hear the idle chatter of the women in the toilet.

  “Did you see Sam Newbolt? Fuck me, how fit does he look tonight? It should be illegal to look that good. I swear my ovaries exploded when I saw him!”

  An eruption of giggles alerts me that there is at least three women out there. I turn to Sam and raise my eyebrows. Sam smirks cockily, and unexpectedly, he moves us backwards without his cock leaving my pussy. He sits down on the toilet seat so that I am sitting on his lap, facing away from him. He lifts me up and impales me on his waiting hardness; I bite my lip to stop myself from screaming out. He’s enjoying torturing me. Bastard. As soon as I hear the toilet door close and the room fall completely silent, I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding.

  “It’s my cock that’s inside you, angel. Those women, they’re…inconsequential,” he rasps as he reaches around to play with my swollen nub.

  I feel the familiar ache of longing, coupled with the feel of his cock inside me. The ripples of pleasure are sparking behind my eyelids, between my thighs, and down to my toes.

  “Oh God Sam! Please, I need to come,” I plead almost desperately, and my voice doesn’t sound like my own.

  He chuckles darkly.

  “I can feel your pussy clenching around my cock, angel. You’re close.”

  He increases his pace and reaches around with his other hand to play with my nipple. He rolls it between his thumb and forefinger. I moan softly.

  “Oh Sam, please, please, don’t stop.”

  I pant as he drives his cock in and out at a relentless, punishing pace. His fast rhythm is making me crazy, and I feel myself trembling with desire. I can feel my orgasm building somewhere deep within my core. He rams his cock up inside me, keeping the pace fast and frantic as we both near climax. My breath is coming out in ragged pants as I feel my orgasm thunder through my whole body.

  “Sam, Oh Sam! Sam! I’m coming!”

  He leans forward to nip my earlobe between his teeth.

  “That’s it, angel, come all over my cock,” he rasps breathlessly as he growls out his climax. “FUCKKKKK! Oh shit! Angel, I’m coming!”

  I feel him as he pumps his hot seed inside me. I squeeze my pelvic muscles around him, milking every last drop, and he growls in my ear. He stills, and I fall back lax against him. I wait for my breathing to return to normal before I go to speak.

  “What the fuck was that, Sam?”

  He laughs gruffly, and he begins untying my makeshift underwear restraints.

  “That, angel, was me claiming what’s mine,” he rasps and lets my discarded underwear fall to the floor.

  I lift myself off him, and as I spin around to face him, I stumble into him. He catches me in his muscular arms, and as my skin makes contact with his, all my nerves light up and stand to attention. It feels as if it is my body instantly recognises his.

  “You fucking belong with me, angel. What’s it going to take for you to accept that?”

  He reaches up to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear, and I close my eyes, leaning into his touch. He’s right, I do belong with him. But how can it work when everything is so different to the way it used to be?

  “Come home with me, angel. I fucking need you. I’m sorry I ran out; my head was all over the place, but I promise you, it won’t happen again.”

  My blue eyes lock with his and the look in his eyes is so sincere, it almost breaks my heart to say no. I pull away from him and start to get dressed. I fasten my bra and step into my playsuit.

  “Fuck!” Sam growls and stands up, his large frame crowding the small space.

  He runs his hand through his raven hair, and I drop my gaze to the floor.

  “Angel, please, don’t do this.”

  He tips my chin up, and I can’t look at him.

  “Fuckin
g look at me, angel. I need you to tell me that you don’t want me. Look me in the eyes, tell me we’re done, and I’ll fucking walk away. It will kill me, but I’ll walk away, I swear.”

  I shake my head.

  “Sam, please.”

  My voice is shaky and thick with unshed tears. Can I tell the only man I’ve ever loved that it's over? Do I really want him to walk away?

  “Fucking tell me it’s over, angel. I need to hear the fucking words,” he says hardheartedly.

  Everything is so different now. I’m someone’s mum, and I kept his son from him, for six whole months. I won’t apologise for that, but it kills me that I can never take it back. He tried to take his own life because of my actions, and now I have to deal with the consequences. It has to be this way. I take a deep breath and reach into my bag. I go to pull out the engagement ring he gave me all those months ago, but I can’t bring myself to be so cruel.