by West, Jade
My smirk was still there in the bathroom mirror, imagining hers as she planned on kicking my ass.
She’d never managed it yet, but she’d had a few decent tries. Maybe that’s what this was really all about – her making a spectacle of me on the tennis court. I’d take it gladly if it meant a conversation. I’d even fall down flat and play dead on the tarmac.
Next weekend is good. I don’t have Millie. Book in wherever you want and I’ll be there.
Now was the moment. Conversation starter or sign off.
She opted for conversation starter.
Ah yes. I heard you’d had a little one. How old now?
She’d sure heard more about me than I had about her.
Five. Shooting up daily. Quite the little princess.
I’d made it downstairs and let the dogs into the paddock by the time she replied to that one. This time the message cut off the stream short and sharp.
I’m sure she is. Next weekend then. We’ll work it out.
I sure hoped so. A game of tennis would be a sliver of relief in the disgrace of an existence I’d created these past few months. My thumbs-up was a positive sign off, and we were done.
I tried to file my Anna Blackwell thoughts into the for later box, but they wouldn’t go there. My mind was churning them up and over as I got myself showered and ready for the Maya crossover. I knew I shouldn’t dwell on any of it. There was no doubt she might come to her senses and bin off a random tennis game well before next weekend. Either that or her social group would manage to bark some common sense into her before she had chance to give me a single minute of her time in person.
They hated me.
I didn’t blame them.
Maya hated me too. Standard.
Even my own mother fucking hated me these days, even if she tried to smile through the scowls.
Luckily, Millicent Isabel Pierce didn’t hate me. Her arms flung wide as she raced down her mum’s garden path on my arrival, her Daddy scream at full volume.
She, out of everything – career and sport and general lifestyle bullshit all considered, even when relationships were a write-off – was by far my biggest success story. I did a pretty damn good job where my little princess was concerned.
Unfortunately, nobody else seemed to think so. Maya’s face was the usual condescending grimace as she stomped down the path to join us at the gate.
“Don’t let her trash her shoes again. Not like last time. These are new.”
I looked down at Millie’s feet. Glitter and bows. Typical.
“I’ll put her in wellies.”
“And keep her away from the dogs. Her dress was caked with muddy paw prints when she came home last.”
I’d heard this crap already, but nodded regardless.
“Yeah, yeah,” I met her eyes, and felt the ice there jab hard. “Anything else?”
Her folded arms formed a barrier between us on every level. I’d have formed one too quite happily. I absolutely despised the woman my wife had turned into these past few years.
“Just don’t cock up,” she hissed under her breath, then pasted on a goodbye smile for Millie. “See you later, sweetheart. Wrap up warm.”
My little girl was already sighing as she dropped herself into the passenger seat of my truck.
“I don’t want to keep away from the dogs, Daddy.”
I ruffled her hair and reached over for a kiss. “No chance of that, Mills. They love you too much.”
As usual Play Planet was a win of an afternoon and the wellies did well enough to guard Millie’s feet as she stomped through the mud puddles on the hillside. My mother gushed and story read, and I stared across with another churn of frustration, wondering again how the hell I was going to fix the bullshit shitstorm I was caught up in.
She was a zing of a presence right through it all though, Anna Blackwell. Rife in my thoughts as we ate our cottage pie at the dining table and I prepared to drop Millie back home for the night.
Memories of us. Of her laughter. Of her dirty grin as she coaxed the filth out of me. How she lapped it up and begged for more. Always more.
Of the way she would bite her lip as she came, and I’d bite it right back after her. Harder.
How I took every fucking thing her body had to give me, and she took it all right back from me.
Dirty. Little. Slut.
I’d almost forgotten what that felt like. Almost.
I’d almost forgotten the very depths of the beautiful filth we’d summoned from each other, but not quite.
I’d never quite forget that.
“I don’t want to go back to Mummy’s yet,” Millie said once my mother had done her hugs.
“Hopefully it won’t be for too much longer, sweetheart. Hopefully you’ll all be living back at Daddy’s soon,” Mother whispered, and I almost spat out a curse.
Her eyes spoke volumes as they met with mine. Disappointment. Disgust.
She could be disgusted all she liked without bringing Millie into it. Our stare off was heated as hell, just like everything else lately. She shrugged like she was stating the obvious, and I was grateful we didn’t have any alone time left for her to grill me on what the hell I was doing to fix things with Maya.
Maya the angel. Maya the perfect mother and perfect wife and perfect everything as far as the rest of the world were staring in at, jangling her crystals around in the air for her angelic self-development bullshit.
Me? I was just the selfish prick with the mountain of failings.
“School tomorrow,” I said to Millie once we were back on the road. “Got to get you a good night’s sleep and ready to roll.”
I was lying. We didn’t need to get her anything that required me dropping her back to that self-righteous cow for the night, but as usual it would do me no good to protest.
Predictably, Maya pulled Millie around when we were back at hers, checking out her shoes, and dress, and hair before giving me a scathing nod. Part of me wished I’d spent the day laughing and joking and dancing with my little girl in the puddles just to be an asshole, but it would’ve cost me dearly for weeks.
She shooed Millie into the house before joining me back at the gate.
“Have you been drinking?”
“No, I haven’t been fucking drinking,” I said, and made to walk away, but she pulled me back.
“We still have a whole load of things to finalise. You need to give me some assurances. I need to know what you’re doing to get yourself back on track.”
I shook my head. “I’m not doing this now. It never gets us anywhere.”
“Nothing ever gets us anywhere with you,” she spat. “We have so much ground to cover, Lucas. But that doesn’t matter, does it? Do we matter a shit to you anymore? What did your mother say today? She’s just as keen for you to sort yourself out as I am.”
Fuck the never-ending rat run of criticism. I was nothing but a wages workhorse there for the milking and had been for years. A failure at everything other than stuffing the cash into the bank account every month.
Pervert.
Alcoholic.
Filthy smoker.
Arrogant piece of shit.
“Maybe you should just move in with my mother. You can spend all your time bitching about what a useless cunt I am.”
I walked away with nothing more than a wave up at the window. Millie waved in return.
“Fine,” Maya snapped at my back. “Fuck off again. It’s always you, wrecking every attempt at working things out. I’m sick of it.”
But she was wrong.
It wasn’t the fucking off again that caused the issues, it was the clashing and cursing and screaming that ensued when we tried to build any damn fucking bridges.
She hated me and had done for years. She’d looked at me like I was a piece of shit for years. Judged every fucking thing I ever did as worth nothing for years.
On top of that, she’d spat at me for being some kind of deviant every time I’d tried to fuck her for years.
Anna had never seemed to think so.
Anna whose life I’d fucked up and mine along with it a whole decade ago.
Maybe this was karma. The universe sucking me in and retching me up the way I’d done to her. I should ask Maya for her fantastic bloody psychic perspective on it.
It came again out of the blue, before I was back at home and through my own door that night – the next text message that set my blood pumping like it hadn’t done for months. Years maybe.
That thrill of knowing something was coming. Something that set your very soul alight with the need. The want. The craving.
The fire and the burn and the crazy pull of flesh on flesh.
Fuck tennis, Anna’s message read, that’s not the game I want to play and you know it.
Oh hell yes, I knew it.
I knew it, and I was damn well on the same page.
Just let me know when and where, I replied. I’ll fucking be there.
Chapter Three
Anna
I was insane. Absolutely insane.
I’d been insane the moment I fired off a message, and even more insane for still considering a meet up.
I daren’t tell any of my friends, and definitely none of the family still ramming Sebastian down my throat at every opportunity. They’d only tell me I was insane in an even more brutal manner than I was telling myself. I could barely even imagine the fallout.
Especially Nicola. Nicola would nail my wrists to a post before she’d see me hook up for a game of tennis with the man she’d cursed about through the past decade.
I’d heard about him getting married to Maya Brooks. Even though it was a good three years after our breakup, it had still slammed me in the gut like a hurricane. I’d heard about them having a kid and doing the whole family game, and I guess that was one of the reasons I’d grabbed hold of Seb so hard when he offered me the engagement ring and said we were all in for keeps.
I’d wanted him to be the love of my life. I’d wanted that more than anything.
I guess what I’d really wanted was the security of an alternate life to the one I’d been dreaming of with Lucas Pierce.
The very last thing I should be wanting was a fuck fest with him, the man who tore me to shreds, but I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t stop myself imagining his mouth slamming into mine and eating me up. I couldn’t stop the shudder as I pictured him grabbing my hair and holding my head back tight, forcing his fingers in my mouth and stretching my lips open as I gurgled and drooled and spluttered. Couldn’t stop the heat boiling through me as I remembered how hard he would suck on my clit. Hard enough that I’d buck against his face like a woman possessed.
I couldn’t stop myself remembering how much I’d wanted that man. How every cell in my body and mind had screamed for more of him every single day and night we were together.
How I’d cursed myself for playing in bed at night with him starring in every fantasy through every year since.
Oh, the fantasies.
Oh, the insanity of the games we used to play. The filth we used to dance with.
I’d sworn there was no way I’d ever speak to him again. Not in this lifetime, no matter what.
Not for the sake of my health, and my mind, and my self-respect. Not out of gratitude for everything people had pulled me out of when I was falling apart in his aftermath.
Still, I’d sworn I’d be happily married with a couple of mini Sebastians running around me by now, so my own self professions didn’t seem all that watertight. Neither did my sanity. Epilepsy wasn’t even playing a factor in these brain fuckups, these were standing strong all on their own.
I was in the office meeting room, having a regular team performance meeting when I heard my phone buzz on the tabletop. Something told me it was him before I’d slyly clicked on the screen, and that something was right.
I hated the flutter in my belly. It was the same tingle it had always been when that prick of a man messaged me. Fuck you, Lucas, but only after you’ve fucked me first. Because that was all this was. Just one splurge. One solitary fuck fest to set my senses free and wild. One tiny scrap of fun to relieve me from the years of need and boredom, and hopefully give me a hint of myself again.
Any news on the tennis date? I have some ideas…
And with that the work meeting was done for me. The voices of our management team blurred out, and my heart was racing and my thighs were clenched tight. I had plenty of ideas of my own and every one of them involved his naked flesh and how well he knew how to use it. The guy was a monster in the bedroom, a monster of pure perverted brilliance.
Just a shame he’d been so much of a monster outside of it.
Tell me, I texted back.
Those two simple words were asking for it. I knew his reply would seal my fate, whatever it may be.
The tease was always a tease.
I’ll show you. When and where?
I was supposed to be scanning through the group stats for the month when I fired off the response.
Next Saturday. Hotel?
The ping was right back.
My place? I’ll send you the address… safe in the middle of nowhere…
But I couldn’t get to a place in the middle of nowhere. My heart dropped at yet another example of the damn condition screwing me over and taking my transport with it.
I can’t drive anymore. Train station?
Another ping. No driving? How come?
A flash of memory of him teaching me to drive around country roads rose up behind my eyes, and I banished it. Like I’d always banished every memory of us when it rose up to bite me.
I pulled the phone under the table as I typed the reply.
I have epilepsy. Can’t drive. Not until I’m twelve months clear of seizures which hasn’t happened yet.
I really didn’t want to tell him this. Didn’t want to show him even the barest hint of personality or weakness or anything even vaguely related to anything other than getting me off.
Shit. I’m sorry. When did you last have one?
I hated typing out my response.
Five days ago. It’s been an intense few months. They are upping my meds at the moment.
If he even dared back out of the fuck fest now, I’d storm around to him myself and tell him all over again what I thought of him. I’d pile through the epic security at GCHQ – Government Communications Headquarters, where I’d heard he’d been rising up in the ranks, so people said – and give him the middle finger right up in his face. But he didn’t back out.
I could pick you up from yours, or you could get the train to Lydney? I’ll get you from the station?
There was no way I wanted to risk being seen with him anywhere near my place. The train was the safer option by a clear mile.
Train works. I’ll look up the times.
I was back at the apartment that evening, listening to Vicky gossip about one of her annoying workmates when I called up the Lydney train times for Saturday afternoon. I’d scrolled back through to the morning timetable once I weighed up just how likely we were to take the whole day up with our filth fest.
11:32, I told him.
I’ll get the prosecco in, he replied.
It was a bitch that he couldn’t get the prosecco in. Not on my account.
No drink for me, I said. Not allowed on my meds.
Bummer, he said back. I’ll make sure you don’t miss it, don’t worry.
And there we had it. The date and time set and confirmed. I felt guilty as I focused back on Vicky’s chatter – guilty at myself and the loads of people who would hate me doing this crap. Guilty at how I was betraying my own self-worth. Guilty at how I’d sacked off Seb just to end up in a splurge with the man who’d ripped my heart into pieces and left me a wreck for months.
He really had left me a wreck for months. I’d been besotted with him. In love with him. Dedicated to a future with him a
nd his delicious mind and delicious lifestyle and delicious cock to match.
Jesus Christ, I’d been in love with that man.
Jesus Christ, I’d paid for it.
My fingers really did hover over a half-formed message to him. Scrap it, this is crazy – it began, but I couldn’t send it. I couldn’t force myself to fire those words in his direction.
So I aimed the sense-making words in another direction. I spat them out and hoped to hell Vicky could talk some sense into me. She’d known me long enough to know this was a shitstorm waiting to happen.
My words came quick and fast.
“I’m meeting Lucas at his next Saturday. We’re going to have an afternoon of fucking, and it’s going to be a one off. Just a one off. Definitely.”
She stopped talking mid-flow, her face an absolute picture of horror as she digested my outburst.
“Lucas Pierce? You’re going to fuck Lucas Pierce? Are you fucking serious?”
My shrug didn’t match up with just how serious I really was.
She shook her head as she gathered her words. “Hell, Anna. What the fuck? Does Nicola know?! Please tell me you’ve told her...”
The shake of mine was a whole load more frantic. “No! She doesn’t. Not yet. Please don’t tell her.”
I felt easily as dumbstruck by my own dumbness as she did.
“You broke up with Seb, and are going to fuck Lucas? Have you lost your mind? Lucas Pierce was an absolute prick to you, and he’s allegedly been an absolute prick to his wife, too. Just ask anyone who knows shit about him. He’s still a complete bloody asshole. He’s probably screwed her brain up nearly as bad as he screwed yours.”
I had no doubt about any of that. Another shrug, and I confirmed I had lost my mind. I’d most definitely lost my mind.
I wasn’t expecting the way she reached out along the kitchen counter and grabbed my hand. I had no idea that the look in her eyes would be so genuinely concerned as she moved closer.
“Please don’t,” she said. “Please, Anna, don’t do it. It won’t do you any good. Not with your seizures. There’s no way you’ll come out good from this. No way at all.”
The stab in my ribs was hard as I caught the truth in what she was saying.
