Zara Stoneley

by Love Is a Four Letter Word

  “You’re funny.” She’d straddled the bike, slid her hands along the tank until she was stretched out on the machine then smiled at him. “People like that bore the pants off me, they haven’t a clue how to live. You going to join me and prove you do?”

  “I don’t need to prove anything.” He handed her a helmet. “You know what? You talk too much.”

  “I know.” She smiled. “Why don’t you try and make me scream instead?”

  “Your wish is my command.” He gave a mock bow, then gunned up the engine before either of them could have second thoughts. The rumble threaded through his body and her thighs tightened around his hips as they took off. He could have sworn he could feel the damp heat between her thighs pressed against him, could feel her breasts pressed against his back as she leaned in and her hands snaked around him, slipped down lower between his thighs.

  She was light on the back, moving with him as he headed out of the town and took the narrow road that threaded its way up to the forest and, before he’d even decided where they were going, her hands had slipped lower, touching him with a need that matched his mood. He wasn’t going far, because for what he had in mind he didn’t want to warm the engine up too much, and the way she was messing with his body was already interfering with his mind.

  Jake slowed the machine, turned off the road. And she was still when he pulled up, apart from the feather light touch from her fingertips. When he turned she just looked at him, then matched his moves as he undid his helmet and dropped it to the ground. He stepped slowly off the bike, leaving it on the stand, engine ticking over.

  Georgie froze astride the ‘bike, feeling vulnerable as he stepped off, not quite sure what was going to happen next, but knowing that the air that had been whistling around her, the heat of him between her legs and the gentle, almost unbearable throb of the engine was turning her into a quivering mass of need.

  “Now you, darling, are going in the driving seat, but don’t presume for one moment you’re in control.” His voice was soft against her ear, the warmth of his breath fanning out over her cheek as he lifted her forward onto the seat that was still warm from his body. “Lean forward, hold the handlebars.” She stretched forward, the heat and tremble of the engine teasing nipples that were already hard, tormenting her swollen clit as his hand rested in the small of her back, pressing her closer to the machine. She could feel it already starting, the slow relentless climb of an orgasm, the rolling need radiating out from her centre.

  He kept one smouldering hand resting on her for a moment, then turned his full attention back to his leathers, cursing as he fought with them. Then he was back on the bike, behind her. “You can rev it up you know.” There was humour in the dark soft voice. His hands slipped up her thighs, round her hips, under her dress, his fingers tracing along her knicker line, either side of her mound, his thumbs circling with a pressure that told her he wasn’t going to mess. One hand slipped between her legs, traced along her slit until he found her clit and she groaned as he touched her. Whimpered as he increased the pressure, as one finger slipped inside her. “You really do want it don’t you?” He lifted her slightly from the seat. “Hold on tight, darling.”

  She was holding her breath with need, but when he sank inside her she still screamed. Screamed as the weight of his body against her pressed her throbbing clit into the shudder of the bike, screamed as she came with urgent pulses. “Oh. My. God.” She could barely get the words out.

  He waited, held still as she shuddered around him and then as her body subsided he started. Full long strokes that filled her. Georgie clung onto the handlebars, trying desperately to control the slide of her body against the bike, to control the friction as he gripped her hips with firm fingers and slammed into her. She lifted her head, stared unseeing at the trees that surrounded them, and the animal sounds had to be her as she growled and cursed, writhed against him, as her body fought the vibrations, willed the orgasm to build higher, higher. And then she couldn’t hold that moment any longer. She was unfurling inside, her body pulsing more urgently this time, and he seemed to expand inside her as she closed around him. Gripping, wanting, needing, until he swore, pulled her savagely back against him. And then nothing. Silence apart from the sound of their breathing, panting. Dark.

  He pulled out. Gently flicked her knickers back into place with one finger. Eased her up with strong hands until she was leaning back against the warmth of his chest and it felt weirdly familiar as he held her. Then he seemed to realise. Slowly dropped his arms away and she could almost feel him setting the distance between them.

  “You okay?”

  She nodded. Tugged at her lower lip with sharp teeth, because she didn’t know what else to do.

  And he was off the bike, passed her a helmet wordlessly and they were back on the road heading for the town before she could think of a single thing to say to him. He weaved his way round the edge of town and pulled up outside her home, the old family home that she’d just returned to after years away, without even asking where she needed dropping.

  Georgie clambered off the bike. Stood awkwardly on the kerb and he reached out, straightened her dress down. Flipped his visor up.

  “Who said I lived here?”

  “Who’d have thought sweet little Georgina would turn into such a naughty girl?”

  Georgie stared at him. She’d never even thought he knew her name when they were at school, and she’d not been back in town for years. The witch called Carol had made sure of that. She’d sweet talked Alfie into alternating between keeping her in the mouldy mansion in the back of beyond and sending her off to a stuffy boarding school to wear big knickers and starchy shirts. Anywhere that meant they didn’t have to do anything, could just ignore her. Georgie refused to think of him as ‘Dad’ any more, he was Alfie. Carol’s conquest. Carol’s puppet. Well they couldn’t ignore her now she was big enough to say no.

  “Is that what they teach you at posh schools these days?”

  It was like he’d read her mind. “Better than learning how to balance a book on your head.”

  “Can you do that too?” He looked grave, serious. Was studying her like he thought he’d made a mistake.

  “Not at the same time.”

  This time he ignored the flippant comment, didn’t join in with the banter. “Don’t let having it all fuck you up, Georgie girl.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with nice.” Which was even more confusing.

  He flicked his visor down, so all she could see was the dark shadow of his eyes.

  “Do you want to come in?” She hadn’t meant to say it, she never said it. But it just came spilling out.

  “No thanks. You got what you wanted, better to leave it at that, eh?” He revved up the bike hard, swung it in a tight circle and she was left standing on the pavement with the smell of exhaust fumes acrid in her nostrils.

  Prick. Georgie slammed the door behind her, dropped her purse in the hallway and headed for the kitchen. He’d got what he wanted as well, hadn’t he? Wasn’t that what it was about? She glanced at the bottles of white wine that lined the fridge, then with a sigh reached for the bottle of water.

  It was the way he’d looked at her. A mixture of anger and concern. A bit like the look her father used to give her when she’d been naughty and he’d been asking her why. He was one hundred per cent sober, unlike her, but he’d had this restrained anger about him that made her want to call him back. Ask him why. But she never did that. Never asked. Not any more, not these days.

  And he was wrong, whatever he meant. There was a hell of a lot wrong with nice. Being nice, having nice. Nice had left her with a shit life and no-one who gave a monkeys about her. Nice was a one way street.

  She tipped what was left of her drink down the sink. At least being bad meant she got something back.

  Chapter Two

  “What has got into you?” Ella put her feet up on the glass topped coffee table so that they
could both admire her new shoes. “Pissing off is one thing, but you never even answered my texts.”

  Georgie could hear a note of hurt and felt an instant stab of guilt. “I’m sorry. Really sorry.” She knew what it felt like to be ignored so she didn’t often do it. Well, not to friends. She picked at a loose thread on the cushion she was holding. “He’s an ass. An insufferable jerked up ass.”

  “So you said.”

  “I’m sorry. But how can he be so fucking sanctimonious about being nice? I mean, since when did he do what he was supposed to?”

  “Exactly.”

  There was a dry edge to her tone and Georgie glanced up sharply. “Meaning?”

  “What is it about you and bad boys?”

  “You should try it.” She felt the grin creep onto her face. “That motorbike—”

  “Georgie!”

  “Sorry, just saying.”

  “I mean, if you’re doing it for the kicks then fine, I suppose. But you’re really doing it to piss off your dad and Carol, aren’t you?” She paused. “Aren’t you?”

  “Can we drop the lecture? I’ve got a bad enough headache as it is.”

  Ella sighed. “Fine. So, why did you leave so early?”

  “That dick from the restaurant was hassling me, and I was tired.”

  “The city wanker?”

  “That’s the one. I wish I’d just poured the contents of the ice bucket over him after he’d paid the bill, they were just so pissed up and loud I’m sure all the other customers would have thanked me.”

  “At least a guy like that wouldn’t use you.”

  “Just fuck me you mean?”

  “You know what I mean, at least you’d know he wanted your body and not your money.”

  “Ella, I can’t believe you just said that. He was a complete slime-ball.” She shuddered. “Can you imagine him slobbering and pawing all over you?”

  “No, I can’t believe I said it really.” Ella sighed. “But those down and out guys you keep flirting with just screw you around.”

  “I like being screwed.”

  She laughed. “You know what I mean. You pay for everything, they get the high life, then—”

  “Then I dump them, if they really try it on.” The only time she’d really got burned was with the guy who’d managed to nick her credit card and run up a mega bill before it had even occurred to her that it could be him. And she wasn’t falling for that one again. She had thought there was something a bit shifty about him, but the way he’d pinned her to the bed and made her do exactly what he wanted had turned her on something rotten. He’d been rough and he’d talked dirty, telling her just what he was going to do to her. Her body started to liquefy just at the thought. Nice. Well, it had been for a while. Until the novelty had worn off and he’d stuck his grubby fingers in her purse.

  “But don’t you want a nice guy, one you’re not looking for an excuse to dump?”

  “No, Ella. Now stop sounding like grumpy old Alfie. When I’m ready to give up on life and settle down with some rich namby-pamby mummy’s boy and breed, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “Really?”

  “Don’t hold your breath though, it could be a one way trip to asphyxiation.”

  Ella shook her head. “I give up. Are we supposed to be working?”

  “Yeah.” Georgie picked up the sheet of paper that was on the sofa at the side of her. “Finding a location for this shoot, and a list of models. I mean, what is it about the great outdoors, what’s wrong with a nice city shoot?”

  “For country stuff?” Ella giggled.

  “But it isn’t proper country stuff is it? It’s country stuff for city people so they can pretend they’re having a relaxing time. Not that the country is relaxing. Latte and shoe shopping sounds a much better deal to me.”

  “Says the country girl.”

  “Reformed.” She stared blankly at the sheet of paper. “And can you honestly think of a male model we’ve used recently who looks rugged? He’s even put ‘modern day John Wayne’ in brackets after it. Good job it’s in fucking pencil then I can rub it out, I mean, what the hell does that mean?”

  “Rugged.” Ella wriggled and settled deeper into the cushions. “A real man, with abs and muscles and… how about your biker boy?”

  “Jake? Piss off, I am not asking Jake. Stop looking at me like that. No. No way, and he’s not a model.”

  “But Toby doesn’t want a model, he wants a real man. A bad boy, and he knows you’re the expert.”

  “Will you stop keeping saying real like you’re saying alien.”

  “It would give you a chance to see him again, you know you want to.”

  “No, I don’t. You can’t even look me in the face when you say it, wimp.”

  “Where does he live? Have you got his number?”

  “How should I know where he lives? You’re sounding like catty Carol now.”

  Ella didn’t rise to the bait. “You’ve got a pic? We can flash it around town, we’ll soon root him out.”

  “He’s not a fox gone to earth.”

  “People will know him if he’s half as sexy as you say, well the girls will anyway.”

  “You’re beginning to sound like a stalker, and no I haven’t got a photo. Was I supposed to shout ‘smile’ while he was shagging my brains out on a motorbike?” Georgie closed her eyes. Let’s face it, he was exactly what Toby was after. A dark, brooding figure in the background. A guy who’d look sexy in torn dirty jeans and a T-shirt in a way that none of the models they could afford would look. She didn’t want to see him again. He’d given her the orgasm of a lifetime, but hey, how much of that was down to a few drinks and the thrum of the engine? No, she definitely didn’t want to see him again. But, if they used him on the shoot he would just be a hired hand. He wouldn’t get a chance to wind her up and be rude to her. Not that he’d been outright rude, just courteous in a rude way that got under her skin.

  “So, what is it with you and this Jake? Did you snog behind the bike sheds at school or something?”

  “No.” More’s the pity, except I was a dull little mouse back then. “We were at the same school but we might as well have been on different planets.” For all the notice he took, except he did remember me, which is a weird one. “He was one of the bad boys and I was one of the good girls.”

  “Yeah.” Ella laughed. “Sure you were.”

  But she had been. She’d worked hard, been happy. Until her parents had split up, and she’d been shipped off to a crappy boarding school in the back of beyond.

  “Okay, maybe I wasn’t that good.” She forced a grin onto her stiff face. Ella didn’t know what her life had been like. Ella only knew the person she’d turned herself into. The girl who knew what she wanted and went out and got it. On her own. With as many thrills and spills crammed in along the way as she could manage. “But Jake was definitely bad. I didn’t recognise him at first, it was a long time ago. And he definitely didn’t have a big beast like that ready to be unleashed when we were at school.”

  “You are so rude. So?”

  “So, what?”

  “Is he the real deal? Are you going to go dig him out so we can all have a look?”

  “I don’t know.” She nibbled the side of her nail.

  “I’m sure Toby will sort something out if we can’t, I mean he’ll understand that you can’t always deliver.”

  Georgie shook her head slowly at Ella. She was winding her up, challenging her because she knew Georgie didn’t like to fail. Ever.

  Ella raised an eyebrow, sensing victory. “It’s your call.”

  And yeah, he was the real deal. “I’ll try and find him, ask him.” He’d say no. What was it he’d said? Don’t let having it all fuck you up? Something told her that Jake didn’t want it all, he never had. He’d always shunned the rich kids at school, kept his distance and kept his pride. And she had a horrible feeling that even flashing her posh frocks and posy job made him angry. He thought she was a rich, spoiled brat w
ho just used people. He hadn’t had to say it, it was in his eyes, in that slightly judgemental tone he’d tried not to let creep into his voice. He’d taken her out on his bike because she’d asked, and because he’d wanted her as much as she wanted him. But he didn’t want anything else to do with her.

  Which could make this tricky. But she wanted to know why. Which made it even trickier. What did she care? He was a thug with a chip on his shoulder. Except he wasn’t a thug. Bugger.

  She tried not to grin, look like she didn’t care either way. “If he says no, then it’s your turn to think of someone, Ella.”

  “If he says no, then you’re losing your touch, wild child.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Welcome. So where do we start?”

  “We?” Georgie raised an eyebrow.

  “We.” Ella folded her arms. “What does he do?”

  “Do?”

  “Can we cut the monosyllabic responses George, I know you’re smarter than that. What does he do, you know, for a job?”

  “How the hell am I supposed to know?”

  “So what did you two talk about then?”

  “Talk?” She raised the eyebrows as high as they could go and looked at her friend as though she’d sprouted an extra head. “This wasn’t supposed to be the start of a beautiful relationship, Ella.”

  “Sorry, I forgot for a moment there who I was talking to.”

  Georgie stared at the ceiling. One thing she’d liked about this place when she was growing up was that everyone knew everybody else. And their business. Which she hated now, but… “I know somebody who is good at talking. Mrs Bea. Come on, we’re going for a walk.”

  “Walk?”

  Georgie grinned at the way Ella was staring at her feet. Beautifully encased in her new, totally impractical, designer shoes. “Now who can’t string a sentence together?” She still wasn’t entirely convinced this was a good idea, but the damned man seemed to have taken residence in her head, and the only way to evict him was to see him in broad daylight when she was sober. Then he wouldn’t be the bad boy super stud she’d imagined. He’d be normal, boring and not in the slightest bit interesting at all. He probably had a weak chin, and spots. And a bad haircut. And he was probably so rough at the edges he wouldn’t even do for the shoot. “Let’s go hunt us down a biker boy.”