They Won't Believe You (Scottish Dark Romance Book 1)

by Paisley Alice Quinn

  “Maybe, I don’t know. It’s just nice to have a man who’s so into me. Someone solid and reliable.”

  Kylie wrinkled up her nose. “Solid and reliable? Are those really the qualities you’re looking for in a man?”

  Flora’s smile flickered. “I don’t know, Kylie. We can’t all be having wild, torrid love affairs, can we?”

  She closed the lid of the chocolate box, which was just as well because Kylie could have kept eating them until there were none. “Hey, has there been any sign of Dexter? I’ve been keeping my eye out for him.”

  Kylie’s heart seared with pain. “Actually, Flora, I was wondering if I could borrow some shoes from you? I’ve got a work thing tonight and I need to look the part.”

  Flora’s eyes lit up. “Of course! What do you need? I’ve got some sweet ballet pumps that would suit you. Or maybe a nice pair of wedges?”

  “Thank you. That’s really good of you. I’m going to need something with heels.”

  Craig paced around his flat, fuelled with aggressive energy. He should be working on his dissertation. If he didn’t finish it soon, he would flunk the entire course. The drivel he had written so far had barely passed muster with his tutor and he knew he could do better. He had been so passionate about prison reform when he had started his studies, but now every time he sat down to work his mind was full of Kylie.

  He was still worried that she was avoiding him after his big revelation, but it was more than that. He couldn’t stop thinking about Fraser McCracken. Maybe, if he sorted him out then Kylie would see that he was right for her. And even if she didn’t, why should she live in fear because of that creep? He should have flattened him to a pulp while he’d the chance.

  A dark, demented part of him hoped that he would come back, to give him the excuse he needed. Because if he touched Kylie again, he would have to kill him, and to hell with the consequences. He went to the window and threw it open, looking down at Kylie’s balcony below. She hadn’t been out there since the incident. He missed watching her when she didn’t know he was there, pegging out her washing and talking to her pets. He enjoyed noting her various different energies, sometimes frantic, sometimes chilled. He’d catch a glimpse of her whipping round with the vacuum like some kind of human tornado. Other times, she’d be as mellow as a mushroom, smiling to herself as she brushed her hair or dancing on her tiptoes as if no one was looking. Of course, as far as she was concerned, no one was looking. He was aware that it might be considered proprietary of him to watch her in this way, but love did that to a person. It twisted their morals and screwed with their heads. Love forced people to make questionable choices and this was one of his.

  The TV was up full volume as Kylie pushed open the door to the Duke. Evidently there was a football match on, and people would rather watch that than talk to each other. She glanced around quickly and darted off to the loos, which were even more skanky than she remembered. Cigarette butts lay discarded in the sinks and there were some dodgy white marks smeared up the walls. She recalled hiding in there with Ruth when they were both underage. They’d had no problem getting served and Ruth had purchased a pack of knock-off ciggies at the bar. Smoking was a big no-no for the swimming team but that hadn’t stopped them having a sneaky smoke. Kylie hadn’t even liked the taste; it was more the act of rebellion she had enjoyed. A big fuck you to Coach.

  She glanced in the mirror and tugged at the hem of her skirt. Was it a bit too short? It was a relic of her old school uniform; the shirt and tie being long forgotten. But perhaps she couldn’t get away with this length now that she was fully grown. She wished she had taken Flora up on her offer of a minidress. She hadn’t wanted to wear anything else of Flora’s tonight. She felt bad borrowing her pink heels as it was. She knew she never would have lent them to her if she had told her what she really wanted them for.

  She checked her make up in the mirror. She didn’t know why she was bothering. It wasn’t like she needed to look good for him. Every time she was around him, she felt more confused. She hated him, despised him. But she also felt guilty for what she had done to him, and she felt like they had unfinished business that needed to be resolved.

  She swallowed, wishing her stomach would settle. She wasn’t coming back to him out of some warped schoolgirl crush. She was no longer that innocent girl on the swimming team. She was here to win Dexter back. That was all this was about. She would play nice and have a drink with him, and then she would take the dog and get the hell out.

  She stepped out of the loos and looked around. Her heart raced as she spotted Coach sitting alone in the corner. There was no sign of Dexter, but he was sitting at a table clutching a pint. He wasn’t wearing his tracksuit for once. He had a nice shirt on, as if this were a date. It made her stomach flip to think he’d got himself dressed up for her and not in a good way.

  She went to the bar and ordered herself a triple vodka.

  “Would you like lemon and ice?”

  “No. Just as it is, please.”

  She handed over what felt like a small fortune and downed the shot in one. Instantly, the room spun around her and it took her a moment to get her bearings. There he was. He’d moved tables, to an alcove. It looked gloomy over there, secluded but of course, that was exactly why he’d chosen it.

  Come on, Kylie. You can do this.

  She forced herself to walk over to him, her body swaying in the heels. She could feel eyes upon her as she passed some of the regulars. Too many familiar faces. She ignored the whispering and the glares. This was exactly why she never visited her old neighbourhood. These people were too judgmental, and everyone was just waiting for her to fail.

  “Well here you are, Kylie.”

  He uncurled himself and regarded her like a bear who’d just awoken from hibernation. He stretched his arms out and she got a good whiff of him, a heavy dose of deodorant masking his more familiar smoky scent. She froze as he hugged her, and the buzzing started in her ears. When he finally released her, she saw that he was checking her out, eyeing her legs in the short skirt and heels he’d asked her to wear.

  “Was it so hard to dress nice for once?” he asked.

  “I just prefer jeans.”

  “Well you look good in skirts. Much more womanly.”

  “Right.”

  She didn’t really care to discuss her outfit with him. She wanted to get down to business.

  “Where’s the dog?”

  “He’s safe enough.”

  “I want him.”

  “And you will have him, after you’ve given me what I want.”

  She hesitated. “And what is it you want?”

  He smacked his lips, as though he was considering what to have for his dinner.

  “Well right now, I fancy a gobble. On your knees, girl, and make it good.”

  She stared at him, aghast.

  “What, here?”

  He looked around. “What, you think you’re too good for this place?”

  “No! I just…”

  “Go on then.”

  He laid a heavy hand on her head, and she sank down to her knees.

  “Get under the table,” he instructed her. “Have a little class.”

  She should cut and run. Nothing was worth this.

  Not even Dexter?

  She thought of her little dog, the best dog in the entire world. She thought of the way he nudged her with his nose. The way he snuggled close when they slept.

  “What are you doing down there? I’m waiting, Kylie, and don’t even think about using your teeth.”

  Hands shaking, she reached for his zip and found it already undone. He was stiff and ready for her, his cock springing out at the slightest touch. She glanced around but no one was looking their way.

  She moved closer until her lips met his cock. It tasted as she remembered; a little smoky, a little musky. She opened wider until he filled her mouth. He pushed himself all the way down her throat, making her gag. She didn’t want to taste him, but his essence danced o
n her taste buds. It was there in every breath she took.

  She should bite him.

  It would be the ultimate act of revenge. She could hurt him so intensely, so intimately, it would be the perfect retribution for all he had done to her. She pictured the scene, the taste of his blood in her mouth. She pictured him moaning, crying, begging for help. But then there was Dexter, her beloved Dexter. What if he took it out on him? The numbness spread through her mind, taking the decision out of her hands. Suddenly, she didn’t mind so much anymore. She was barely even there. She felt a tingle all down her spine and she had a sense of stepping out of her own shadow and leaving it dying on the floor.

  She could get through this and then Dexter would be safe. Dexter would be hers.

  She began sucking with a vengeance, eager to get it over with as quickly as possible. She worked furiously with her hands until he smacked them away.

  “No hands. Only your mouth.”

  Her jaw was already aching, but she had no choice. If she didn’t do this, who knew what would happen to Dexter. And besides, until Coach got what he wanted, he would never leave her alone.

  He thrust himself deeper down her throat and tears sprang to her eyes. She thought guiltily of Craig, imagined it was his cock in her mouth and him she was sucking. She would happily taste him on her tongue. If this were Craig, she would do anything in her power to please him.

  His hand was heavy on her head and she tried not to gag as he rocked himself in and out of her aching jaw. Saliva dripped down her chin and she felt an unwanted longing deep inside of her. She didn’t want this man. She despised him even more than she despised herself. And yet her nipples were rock hard, and her pussy pulsed with a need that never seemed to be fulfilled. She told herself it was Craig’s fault because he’d refused to fuck her, but she knew of course that it wasn’t.

  Coach murmured softly and she hated him even more for reminding her who she was sucking. He was growing closer, she could tell as he thrust himself faster and faster into her aching mouth. She kept her eyes closed, shuddering slightly as he spasmed, and then roared with pleasure as he came down her throat. He kept his hand on her head for a moment longer, before he finally withdrew his cock.

  Her mouth felt dry and salty and she wiped a hand across her lips, but the taste lingered on her tongue.

  “So, where’s Dexter?” she asked. “Have you tied him up outside?”

  He tilted back his head and laughed. “It’s going to take more than one lousy blowjob, you cheap slut.”

  Before she could say another word, she felt a strong pair of arms lifting her out from under the table.

  “You can’t be soliciting in here miss,” the bouncer said crossly. “You get out before someone calls the police.”

  Her cheeks reddened as he marched her through the pub, holding her arms behind her back.

  The other bouncer was talking to Coach, but he was smiling as if it were all a great laugh.

  She felt the stares of all the regulars.

  “Look at that little whore! Did you see her? The dirty little bitch!”

  Then she locked eyes with Flora who had just arrived for her shift behind the bar.

  “I’m sorry,” she called, as she was shoved out onto the cold grey street.

  26

  A moment later, Flora burst through the door, looking fit to kill. She stared at Kylie, her eyes filled with a venom she had never seen before.

  “Don’t wear my shoes to whore in!”

  “Flora, I’m sorry. I…

  “How do you think Craig’s going to feel? He’s crazy about you. You’re all he can talk about. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? And that… that man. He comes in here all the time. Always filthy and vile. How could you do something so disgusting? I know you need the money, god knows we all do, but I never thought you’d resort to this kind of thing and certainly not in my shoes.”

  “Flora, I’m sorry!”

  She pulled the shoes off her feet, not caring how rough and dirty the ground was.

  “You can keep them,” Flora said fiercely. “I don’t want them anymore now that you’ve soiled them.”

  “They’re not…” but then she saw that Flora was right. There were drips of a white substance across the toe of the left shoe.

  “Craig’s going to be so hurt,” Flora said as she turned to walk away. “This is going to kill him.”

  “Then don’t tell him!” she implored, but the only answer was the sound of the door slamming as Flora flounced back inside.

  She waited for Coach, but he did not come out. How unfair that she had been thrown out into the cold and not him. Perhaps those bouncers were too scared to mess with him. They looked young and inexperienced. She considered fighting her way back in, but then thought better of it. She had already made enough of a scene.

  She walked all around the building but there was no sign of Dexter. Coach must have left him at home, wherever that was these days. He didn’t live at the bungalow on Port Drive anymore. She’d heard it had been sold soon after he moved to Glasgow. She peered through the window and saw him sweet talking some other young girl. She felt a weird pang of jealousy as he rested his arm casually on her shoulder. He did not look in any hurry to leave.

  Tired and dejected, she trudged down the road to the bus stop. She had no doubt that she would be seeing him again soon. She would stake her claim to the dog then. Darkness wrapped itself around her like a sheath and tears streamed down her face. They continued to flow all the way home.

  Once she reached the safety of her building, she ran up to her room. She was glad to have avoided Craig and his questions. She didn’t want to deal with him tonight. She wasn’t sure she wanted to deal with him tomorrow, either. Once Flora told him what she had done, it would all be over. She couldn’t believe she had screwed up so badly. Angrily, she ripped off her clothes. Standing naked, she grabbed her razor and glared at her reflection in the broken bathroom mirror. Hundreds of razors, hundreds of different Kylies, all tarnished, all broken.

  She put the blade in her mouth and watched herself in the mirror as she let it whisper on her tongue. Then she took it out and ran it up and down the curves of her legs until there wasn’t a trace of hair left. She brought it up, over her mound, leaving nothing but a thin row of fuzz. She lathered her opening with soap, wincing as she shaved every last piece of hair and finally, she pushed the soap inside her and washed herself there too. The soap burned, causing her eyes to water, as if she hadn’t already cried enough.

  “I’m sorry, Craig,” she whispered. “I really don’t deserve you.”

  She needed to be punished, but no punishment was ever enough. She removed the soap and placed it in her mouth instead. It bit her tongue and the bubbles grew pink where she had cut herself. She pushed the soap in deeper and gagged on it, but she needed to cleanse herself of him. She held the soap in place, her tears flooding the sink until finally, the beast inside her relented. She spat it out and immediately vomited. She was disgusted with herself. Disgusted with all she had done. And yet it was never enough.

  She showered in ice-cold water, shivering violently, as she counted to fifty. Only then did she shut off the water. Her soft, warm towel was like a piece of heaven when she wrapped it around her body, and her pleasure annoyed her. She wiped her mouth and rubbed herself roughly, relishing the soreness. It felt as sordid and used as she did.

  After she had towelled off, she put Flora’s high heels back on, walking around the flat in them as she made herself a cup of tea. She would wear them to work tomorrow and let everyone look at her. She would wear the skirt too, and if anyone said anything they could go to right to hell.

  Muriel raised an eyebrow as she trotted past in her high heels and short skirt the next day, and Lachlan nearly fell off his chair.

  “Attention whore,” Ainsley muttered, as she walked towards the trolley. For once she was right. Kylie was sick of tiptoeing around people. Today, she was going to be seen.

  Climbing the la
dder in heels proved to be too much of a challenge, so she kicked them off and climbed barefoot. It felt so good she almost moaned out loud as she climbed up to the top shelf with a stack of archaeology texts. She was aware of people watching her as she deposited the books in their correct slots, but she decided that was their look out. Nobody dared say anything. In fact, she was beginning to rather enjoy herself until she became aware of another presence in the library. She turned and found Craig looking up at her with a puzzled frown.

  “Kylie!” he called. “Kylie, get down here. We need to talk.”

  She shimmied back down and slipped her feet back into the pink heels.

  “Hi Craig. How are you?”

  He looked as if he were about to say something, then he shook his head abruptly.

  “I’m fine. I feel like you’ve been avoiding me.”

  “Well I’m not.”

  “Good. That’s good.”

  He took her hand in his. It felt nice. Warm. A flash of her evening with Coach entered her mind and she pushed it away like an unappetising meal.

  “Listen, I’m going to be busy this week…”

  Had Flora told him? She didn’t think so. He wouldn’t be talking to her in this calm, friendly tone.

  “Why? What are you doing?”

  “Finishing my dissertation.”

  She gave him a sideways glance. “You’re actually going to finish that thing?”

  “Shut up! You sound just like Flora.” But there was humour in his smile. “Anyway, I’m shooting for Friday. I kind of have to because Friday is the deadline. Friday at four o’clock, in fact. If I don’t have it done by then I’m screwed.”

  “No pressure, then. How much did you say you had to do?”

  “Oh, pretty much all of it. My tutor said it wasn’t fit to wipe her arse on.”

  “Nice image.”