Beautiful Boxset: Beautiful Series, books 1-4

by Anderson, Lilliana

  Biting my lip, I decide that I’m better off using my head to make this decision. My clit doesn’t have the best judge of character. Taking a deep breath, I’d turn around and catch the hot guy’s eye again, motioning with my finger for him to come over. He grins, self-confidence dripping off him as he stands. But when I shake my head and point to the guy beside him, his grin gets even bigger. The nerdy guy looks like he’s about to pass out. He even shakes his head, disbelieving.

  I laugh as he looks at me and points at his own chest. I nod and gesture with my whole hand. “Get over here,” I say, even though there’s no way he can hear me. His friend laughs and claps him on the back, congratulating him on his luck. Then he makes his way across the room, nervous steps, zero swagger.

  “Ah, hi,” he says, sweating a little as he meets me eyes.

  “Hi.” I smile brightly, kind of liking this nervousness in him.

  “Can I buy, um, buy you a drink?” he asks, running a hand along his jaw, across the dark smattering of stubble that stops him from looking so much like a boy.

  “I’d like that,” I reply, telling him I’ll have a vodka and OJ, not wanting to mix my drinks. I’ve heard it makes you sick and the last thing I want to do tonight is start throwing up.

  “I’m Ed,” he says as we wait.

  “P...Linda,” I say, correcting myself before saying the wrong name.

  “Nice to meet you, Linda.”

  “You too, Ed.”

  We get our drinks and there’s a lot of smiling going on. He asks me a couple of questions about where I’m from and what I do. So, I make things up to fit Linda’s persona. Nothing I’ll have to prove later on. I’ve learnt that he’s twenty-three and lives with a friend in Petersham. He’s perfect.

  “Will you dance with me, Ed?” I want to move this thing along, knowing that the dance floor is where the good stuff happens. I plan to shamelessly throw myself at him.

  Before long, we’re locking lips. I can feel his erection pressing into me and wrap my arms around his body to pull myself closer to him.

  He breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against mine. “God, you’re beautiful,” he comments, a smile on his face like he can’t believe his luck. I almost feel bad about this, but then I realise the guy is about to get laid. He’s not going to give a shit about my motives at all.

  I slide my hands up into his thick hair. “Do you want to get out of here?” I ask boldly. My heart thuds nervously against my chest as I wait for his answer.

  A smile curls the side of his lips as he brings his mouth back down to mine, kissing me briefly. “Yeah. I want to get out of here. Yours or mine?”

  “Yours.”

  Taking my hand, he leads me over to his friends. The guy I’d had a moment with claps Ed on the back and grins at me, shaking his head like he can’t believe I didn’t go for him. “You two have fun now.”

  Ed nods then leans in to tell a blond guy that we’re leaving. He points over his shoulder at me and the friend leans around him to get a better look. His eyes drag up and down my body slowly, causing a shudder to travel down my spine. He gives Ed a curt nod but keeps his eyes on me. My heart stops for a moment. He’s intense. Even more intense than the first guy was when he was watching me. Although this one seems kind of annoyed. I’m getting a strange vibe from him. Have I sold him drugs before? He snatches his eyes away from me and smiles at Ed, giving him one of those congratulatory man handshakes before we leave.

  “That was my housemate,” Ed explains as we pass the coat check, I’m about to stop and get my jacket and bag, but realise that if he sees me with a backpack full of clothing, it’s likely that he’ll figure out exactly what I’m doing with him.

  “Oh? Do I need to be gone before he gets home?”

  “No. Not at all. We just usually share a cab. I was letting him know I’m leaving early.” He reaches for me and we stop walking while he kisses me with passion. It feels nice, but I can’t help being worried about my things. I hope they’ll still be there when I come back for them.

  Seventeen

  The morning after the plan

  I’m not completely naïve. I know that not every man is good in bed, and I always suspected that Jeff was the exception. But it wasn’t until last night that I actually understood why some women complain about sex.

  Ed was all over me on the cab ride back to his place. The moment he brought me into his apartment, we got hot and heavy. His kissing is amazing. I have to give him that. He moves his tongue around my mouth harmoniously with mine, and he sucks gently on my lips as he comes up for air. It’s all very sensual and had me writhing under his touch.

  But, once we were naked. Everything went downhill. We got in bed together, and kissed and touched some more. But when he moved his hand between my legs, his fingers entered me briefly, testing my level of wetness before he moaned a little, applied a condom and then entered me missionary style. He pumped for less than a minute before blowing with a shudder of his body and a hiss of his mouth. Then he collapsed in a sweaty heap on top of me.

  I optimistically ran my fingers up and down his back and gripped him with my internal muscles, hoping to bring him back to life like I had with Jeff so many times before. But when he rolled onto his back suddenly, the guttural sound of his snoring made me realise it was all over. I was so disappointed, and for the first time since he threw me out. I missed Jeff. I missed what we had together before things turned sour.

  It was incredibly hard to sleep as I was so close to tears. Hatred was too busy boiling around inside of me. I hate what I just did. I hate my reasons behind it. I hate my life, and even more, I hate myself.

  ‘Bad people’ don’t do bad things because they want to—well, not in the beginning, anyway—they do bad things out of necessity. Then it spirals out of control and they become bad people. I think that's the point where I am now. I've done a lot of bad shit. And it wasn’t until this morning when I woke up and realised I have to keep having crappy sex if I want to keep this roof over my head that it dawned on me—I’ve stepped over the line. I'm a bad person now. I'm a thief. I’m a liar. I'm a user. I'm the one who wants something now.

  Looking over at the still sleeping Ed, I try not to disturb him as I slide out of the bed and pick up my clothes. I need to shower my shame away.

  He wakes as I’m wriggling into my dress.

  “Hey,” he says groggily. “Hope you’re not trying to sneak out on me.”

  “No, I’d never do something like that,” I laugh uneasily, even though I was contemplating doing just that. But then where would I go? “I’m just going to the bathroom.”

  “Hurry back,” he says, smiling as he leans up on his elbow to look at me properly. In the light, he’s quite handsome with his dark hair messed up from sleep and his features soft for the same reason. I feel a slight affection for him and nod my head. Now I need to make him feel so special he never wants me to leave. Do I act like a hooker or a girlfriend for that? It’s something Jeff left out of my training. So, I'll have to play it by ear.

  When I make it to the bathroom, I relieve myself and then check my reflection in the mirror. I wish now that I’d collected my bag from the night club because the bruise on my cheek is visible since my makeup has worn off.

  In an attempt to look presentable, I brush my teeth with some paste on my finger and use some wet tissue and soap to clean my face, then rake my fingers through my hair to calm the wild curls.

  “That’ll have to do,” I say to my reflection when I’m done, although I wish I had something to cover the bruise. It's yellow and faded, but still noticeable.

  For a while, I just stare at myself, taking in the person that I am now. I’m looking at a girl, who last night, stole someone’s name and possessions, and then gave herself freely for the sake of a bed.

  Is this the kind of person I want to be? I briefly wonder if maybe I should go and find a brothel that’ll hire me. At least then I’d get paid for what I just did. But the mere thought of selling my
body for actual cash seems wrong to me.

  As much as I hate what I just did, I can at least reason that I was attracted to Ed. That I chose to sleep with him. I still have a small amount of power in my life. It might not be much, but it’s still there.

  Leaving the bathroom, I run almost headfirst into Ed’s housemate. I recognise him from the club. And he's even better looking this morning. Still uncomfortably intense though.

  “Morning.” I nod as I peer up at his face. The hallway is narrow, and I need him to move so I can get past.

  A frown creases his brow as his eyes move over me. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-two,” I answer immediately, trying to hold his gaze steady so he can’t see the nerves shooting through my body, making me sweat.

  “What happened to your face?”

  I smile and try to play coy. “Well, that’s not what a girl wants to hear first thing in the morning.”

  He lets a short laugh out of his nose and reaches up to move my hair. “Your face is bruised. What happened?”

  The moment his fingers touch my skin, I suck in my breath. It’s…electric. And there’s something about the way he’s looking at me that makes me feel like he can see right through me.

  “N-nothing happened. Can I get past now, please?” I’m struggling to find my voice.

  He stares at me and keeps me trapped for a moment longer, then he steps aside. Just enough to let me through, although I have to press against his body before I’m free.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Uh, it’s um… L-linda,” I stammer.

  “Matthew.”

  Fleetingly I look at him, avoiding his eyes before I nod and make my way back to Ed’s room. As I slide inside, I glance back. Mathew is still there, watching me as he casually leans against the wall. I drop my eyes and close the door, resting my hand against it for a moment as I gather my thoughts.

  I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. That guy is intense.

  “Hey you. Come over here.” Ed beckons, and I turn around to face him. He holds out his hand as I walk towards him then he pulls me onto the bed so I have to climb onto him and straddle his legs.

  Immediately, I feel his arousal. He slides his hand either side of my face and pulls me towards him, touching our lips briefly before taking my mouth in his to give me one of his luxurious kisses.

  The hooker it is.

  “Lie back,” I whisper, taking my cue. As he does, I pull my dress over my head and drop it onto the floor beside us. “Condom?”

  “Side drawer.”

  I pull one out and slide it over his erection. Using his tip, I glide him against my opening and then my clit, rubbing it back and forth and moaning slightly as my own arousal builds.

  He’s eager and pulses his hips up, trying to slide inside me.

  “Not yet,” I whisper, my voice all breathy as I continue.

  Groaning, his hands travel up to cup my breasts, and he pulses up again. This time, I slide down his shaft and grip him tightly before sliding back up.

  “Oh wow,” he moans, his eyes rolling back as pleasure starts to steal away his focus.

  I take his hand away from my breast and guide it between my legs, showing him how to rub at my swollen nub.

  “Oh yeah, right there,” I whisper as he starts to get the hang of it, he tries to slide his finger back to rub closer to my opening, but I hold onto his hand and keep him circling my clit. “Oh!” I cry out as my orgasm starts to build. It’s as if the sexual frustration from the night before is sitting just below my surface, desperate to escape.

  “God!” he calls out, pushing himself firmly into me as he orgasms before me. Again.

  He pulls his hands back and grips me by the hips, grinding us both together while my orgasm evaporates into the ether.

  Sitting up beneath me, he brings his mouth to mine and kisses me. “Nice way to wake up,” he whispers.

  “Hmmm,” I answer smiling. I climb off him and he removes his condom, shotting it into the wastepaper bin before turning towards me and pulling me into a spoon.

  As he kisses me softly on my shoulder, I wonder if this is my punishment for using people. Perhaps now I’ll have a life without climax. I guess that will serve me right.

  Eighteen

  After spending most of the day in bed with Ed—still without orgasm—he drives me back to the nightclub to collect my things. He says he’ll wait for me outside and drive me home after, but I of course, decline. There’s no home to drive me to.

  I guess I hoped he’d want me to stay longer. I hoped he wouldn’t even suggest that I go home. I hoped he’d see me for the willing body I am. I hoped he'd use me for his own gain the way I wanted to use him for mine.

  Perhaps I’m not as good in bed as I thought I was.

  As he pulls up to the curb outside the nightclub, he leans across the console and presses his lips to mine. “I had a really great time last night… and today of course.”

  I run my fingers through the thickness of his stubble. It’s practically a beard this morning. “Me too, Ed. Thanks for everything.” Pressing my lips against his once more, I move away and get out of the car.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to wait and drive you home?”

  I don’t have a home. Every time he says that word it stabs at me. I bite my lip and wonder if I should tell him.

  “I um…”

  He sees my hesitation and shakes his head slightly. “Listen, if you don’t want to see me again, then just say so OK? I’m a big boy. I can take it.”

  “No, it’s not that at all,” I attempt to explain. He gets out of the car and moves to stand in front of me.

  “Linda, last night was really unusual for me. I don’t normally pick up girls and take them home on the first night.”

  I look down at my feet. “That’s actually the first time I’ve ever done that as well.”

  “It doesn’t have to be one night. I feel wrong dropping you off in your clubbing clothes and then leaving you to make your way home on your own. Please let me drive you. I won’t try to come inside. But if you give me your number, I will call you to see you again next week.”

  “I um…” God, just say it, Paige!

  “You what?” My mouth opens, and I don’t know how to say the words. This is the first time I’ve actually needed to say it. Everyone else I’ve told my story to already knew I was homeless. I’ve never had to blurt it out before. It makes me feel like I’m begging.

  When I don’t respond, he takes a step back and spins his car keys around his finger and catches them with a loud clink. “Just forget it then,” he says, looking away.

  “No, Ed.” I grab his arm. “It’s because you can’t take me home.”

  “Why? Why can’t I take you?”

  “Because… because I don’t have one.”

  “You what?”

  “I don’t have a home. So you can’t take me there. I’m homeless. Are you happy now?” I cry, turning away and covering my face with my hands.

  “I’m sorry, Linda.” He places his hand on my shoulder. “I had a feeling something was wrong. Don’t cry. Please.”

  “It’s fine.” I wipe at my tears and turn back to him. “Just let me get my stuff, and I’ll be on my way.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll figure something out. I always do.”

  He works his lips together and it's like I can see his mind turning over, coming to the conclusion I hoped he would all along. “Don’t go off on your own. Come back with me. You can spend another night, and maybe… we can figure something out together?”

  “Really?” Oh my God. It worked.

  “Absolutely. I can’t leave you knowing you have nowhere to go. What kind of a man would that make me?”

  I wrap my arms around his neck gratefully. “Thank you.”

  With his hands on my waist, he pulls away from me a little and looks into my face, his eyes lingering on the bruise. I can tell he wants to
ask me what happened, but he just nods toward the club entrance and tells me he’ll wait for me while I get my stuff.

  When I go inside there’s a young guy manning the coat check. His name tag tells me he’s ‘Braden’.

  “Hey.” He nods at me. When he smiles, his cheeks produce two sideways dimples. Which in turn makes me want to smile right back.

  “Hi, I ah, left my bag and jacket here last night.”

  “No worries. Do you still have your token?”

  I hand him the little disc and pin, and he takes it from me then turns around to look through the shelving. I like watching him. He’s probably around the same height as me, but his movement is very fluid. It’s almost graceful.

  He has light brown hair that’s shaved close to his scalp on one side and flops straight down to the base of his ear on the other side, which really suits his fine features and dark eyes.

  “Here you go,” he says handing me my backpack and jacket. “Must have been a fun night last night if you forgot all this.”

  I laugh. “It was all right. Thanks, Braden.”

  “Anytime. See you next time you forget your stuff.”

  Nodding and smiling, I walk towards the exit and wave good-bye. I overhear Ed on the phone. “Deal with it,” he snaps before realising I’m walking towards him. “Listen, I have to go.” He disconnects the call and stuffs the phone into his pocket. “You got everything?”

  “Yeah. Thanks for waiting,” I say, as I walk around to the passenger side of the car. “Thanks for this as well, Ed. I know we just met. But this is huge.”

  He nods, and we get into his car.

  “So how long have you been on your own?”

  “A little over a year now,” I tell him, explaining briefly that I didn’t get along with my parents, and they kicked me out because of it. I don’t want to tell him the whole story. He still thinks I’m Linda.