Killer Queen: A Painted Faces Novel

by L.H. Cosway

“Something like that. But thank you for bringing the cupcakes. They've cheered me right up,” I said, and gave her a grateful smile. The fact that she had interrupted my wallowing was a godsend, and I was feeling better the longer she sat beside me, smelling divine and looking even better.

  “Hey, it's my pleasure. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm just next door. What's the point of having a best friend if she can't cheer you up when you're down?”

  God, this girl was going to kill me with her sheer kindness. There was no façade about Fred. What you saw was what you got, and I was beginning to deeply admire that about her. I smiled at her and took her hand in mine, then replied with a simple, “Thank you, darling.”

  She glanced away shyly before asking with humour, “Are those the dulcet tones of Leonard Cohen I hear? You are a true cliché of sadness, Viv.”

  Ah, my music was still playing in the bedroom. Leonard sang about there being a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in. I absently wondered just how many cracks I had and if Fred could fill them with her light. I didn’t want to leave her to go and turn it off, so I simply left it to play. I didn’t want to let go of her hand. In fact, I even began to rub circles into the centre of her palm, craving physical contact. It can be so lonely trapped inside one’s own head for days.

  “You're a ray of sunshine, Freda. Thank you so much for taking the time to come and see me,” I said, levelling my eyes firmly on hers.

  “It's nothing. I like being around you, Nicholas,” she admitted, and her gaze widened by the tiniest fraction, like she hadn’t meant to disclose the fact that she actually enjoyed my company. Everything inside me delighted in her admission, and I moved my body a fraction closer to hers.

  “I really like it when you say my name, you know,” I murmured.

  And I did. In fact, I was dying for her to moan it while I made her come. The sexual undertones to what I said must have been clear, because she started to ramble with a speedy change of subject.

  “I'm sorry if I can be a bit abrupt sometimes, or if the things I say hurt your feelings. It's just my way. I can't seem to help it.”

  “I like your way. Don't ever change,” I told her, my voice low as my eyes traced the sexy curve of her chest. She was showing a nice hint of cleavage, and I was enjoying the view. I remembered something she’d said to me while we’d been hanging out the previous week. I’d been joking (but deadly serious) when I’d mentioned wanting to cop a feel of her ample bosom. She’d been all blasé and told me to go right ahead. Instead, I’d said that I’d wait until a more private moment.

  And this moment was about as private as it got. So I chanced my luck.

  “Remember when you said I could cop a feel last week? I think I'd like to take you up on the offer now. It will lift my spirits.”

  She gave me a mock look of outrage. “You, sir, are an opportunistic scoundrel.”

  I was determined, and I wasn’t going to allow her to scurry away by using humour as armour. “Relax, Fred,” I murmured. “You'll like this, I promise.”

  She froze as I leaned forward to bring my body over hers. My every pore was alight, and her silence spurred me on. She wasn’t arguing, which led me to believe she wanted me to touch her. I brought my hand to her neck and then stroked downward, sliding my palm across her collarbone before moving down to her chest. I softly fingered the outline of her breast, a smile touching my lips, and then I went for it, cupping her perfect tit in my hand. Her breathing became laboured, her bright eyes sparkling, and then her throat moved as she swallowed. I stared at her hotly as I used both my hands and felt her up. Her body was incredible, and I wanted to savour every inch of it. Who knew when I’d next have the chance?

  She swallowed again, and her eyes fluttered shut for a moment. I could tell she was turned on, and I was hard as a rock in my pants.

  “I love this outfit on you, Fred. Your body is a feast for the senses,” I told her huskily.

  Then I grabbed her by the hips and moved her body so she was under me. My need grew feverish as I shoved her skirt up to her waist and pulled her legs around my hips. When I sank into the space between her thighs, I let out a long breath. We fit perfectly. I wanted her to know how aroused I was, so I ground my hard-on into her soft core. She gasped a sweet, beautiful sound, and then I lost it. I couldn’t hold back any longer. I attacked her neck with my mouth, and her hands sank into my hair as she arched her back. Then her hands were all over me, and I relished every touch. She pressed her palms into my back before gripping onto my shoulders. I brought my hand between her legs, tantalising her as I felt my way up her inner thigh before cupping her pussy. She moaned and panted.

  “Are you wet for me, Fred?” I asked her, my voice dark with satisfaction.

  “Mm-hmm,” was all she said in reply.

  “God, you're so fucking lovely,” I swore, and then I was sliding my fingers past the cotton fabric of her knickers and making contact with her skin. She felt so silky and warm. The fact that she was already this turned on pleased me, because I hadn’t even done anything yet. Finding her clit, I began to rub her slowly, working her up into a frenzy.

  “You smell great…you feel bloody fantastic,” I groaned, my breaths coming quick and fast. Her hair spread around her like a halo. She looked so beautiful beneath me, and I couldn’t help but sink my face into her hair and relish its softness as I continued to work her toward an orgasm.

  When I’d had my fill of her hair, I captured her mouth with mine, plunging my tongue inside and savouring the heady taste of her. She moaned into my mouth as she squirmed under me, and I felt like I might come in my pants. This was one of the most erotic moments of my life, hands down.

  I tried not to think on why that was, because it wasn’t the act that made it so erotic — it was the woman I was with.

  I could tell she was on the cusp of orgasm when I dragged my mouth from hers and told her, “I want to watch you when you come. Christ, Fred, your lips are like little pillows of heaven, and your mouth, God, your fucking mouth.”

  Her cheeks grew red as she averted her eyes. My dirty talk was making her shy, and I kind of loved it. I grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at me. “Are you shy? Fuck, that just makes me ten times harder for you.”

  I started to rub at her with quick movements, bringing her closer. I wished she wasn’t still fully clothed, because I wanted to take her breast into my mouth. Frustrated, I went for it anyway, capturing her nipple through the fabric and biting down on it hard. I knew the hint of pain would make her release that much more intense. She cried out and her body bucked beneath me, and then she started to shake as she came. I didn’t let her look away, our eyes remaining connected as the waves of pleasure passed through her body.

  In that moment, I wanted to claim every part of her, make her mine, and the possessive thought was disturbing. I’d worshipped many women, but never before had I wanted to stake a claim. The idea of her finding sexual release with another man made me want to break something.

  Her breathing was beginning to even out when I lifted and manoeuvred her so she was on top of me. There wasn’t a single part of us that wasn’t touching, and I loved it.

  I stroked her bare arms with both my hands as she moved her face to my neck and let out a happy little sigh. I enjoyed being the cause of that sigh, savoured the feel of her mouth against my quickly beating pulse. In all my years, I’d never felt anything quite like this with a woman. I’d never had a woman make me feel the way Fred made me feel, and I suddenly realised just how much I’d been missing out on. I fervently wished I had met her years ago. If she had been a girl at my school, I would have instantly pursued her. I could have avoided all the emptiness that filled my life, could have bypassed trying to fill that emptiness with hedonistic pleasures that gave me nothing of worth to hold on to.

  And I wanted to hold on to the last half an hour with Fred for the rest of my life.

  “You're so pretty when you come, all wide-eyed and surprised. I didn't t
hink you'd make me feel so clean, Fred,” I told her, completely unfiltered. I wanted her to know just how much she affected me.

  “What do you mean?” she mumbled, her face still burrowing into my neck. I liked it that she enjoyed being there.

  “Every woman is different. Some of them make you feel satisfied, others make you feel high, most just make you feel used or dirty. But you, Fred, you make me feel cleansed. There's no guile or ulterior motives with you. You're just in the moment for whatever it might bring.”

  I could feel her heart pounding as the meaning of my words hit her. She moved then so she could meet my eyes. Hers were brimming with emotion.

  “That sounds kind of sad. Don't any of them ever make you feel love?” she asked, her head tilted to the side.

  “Some have come close,” I lied, because I suddenly felt self-conscious. I wanted her to know all of me, but at the same time I didn’t want her to know how empty my life had been. I looked away, ashamed.

  “Well, all I know is that was one of the best orgasms I've ever had. I've been plagued with men who didn't know what they were doing,” she joked, and it dragged me out of my sad thoughts, making me smile just the tiniest bit.

  “I'm flattered. Although since you said yourself that you haven't had a boyfriend in three and a half years, I must not have been up against very stiff competition,” I joked back.

  “How do you know I don't have one-night stands to keep me tided over?” She was being flirty now.

  “You don't. You're not that kind of girl. I can tell. Perhaps that's why you make me feel so clean.”

  She stared at me for a long moment, then frowned. I wanted to know why she was frowning, but I didn’t dare ask. Instead, I gave in to my need to touch her hair again and began trailing my fingers through it. She practically purred in appreciation, so I knew she liked it. A feeling of calm washed over me, and I took a very simple pleasure in lying with her, savouring the peaceful feeling she gave me.

  “I really like you, Fred,” I said honestly in a soft, tender voice.

  “I really like you, too, Nicholas. But — do you think this might have been a bad idea?”

  She was frowning again, and I could tell her insecurities were wheedling their way into her head, so I tried to reassure her that I was on the same page.

  “No. I think we both know where we stand with one another.”

  She sat up and climbed off me. She seemed embarrassed for some reason, and it made me wonder if I’d said the wrong thing. I wanted to know what she was thinking.

  I wanted to be with her, whatever that might entail. I was about to tell her so when she suddenly changed the subject, reminding me of a promise I’d made to her several days ago.

  “Hey, remember when you said you'd teach me how to walk in heels?” she said, and nodded toward a pair of my stage shoes that were sitting in the corner of the room.

  “Yes?” I replied.

  She grinned, but it was brittle. What the hell was she trying to hide? “Care to show me now?”

  I was honest with her when I said, “That might be difficult, since I've got a severe case of blue balls at the moment.”

  And yes, perhaps I was also being a bit passive-aggressive. But I was pissed at how she was trying to gloss over what had just happened between us. She reminded me of a skittish stray cat that would scarper the moment you made the tiniest wrong move.

  She stared at me for a long moment. My gaze burned into hers, my meaning obvious. I wanted to take her into my room and fuck her until she couldn’t walk straight. I did not want to play a game of teaching her how to walk in heels, because we both knew that would have been a fine charade.

  Unfortunately, Fred decided to latch fiercely onto the charade, determined not to let go.

  “Well, walk it off, Viv. A girl needs to know how to wear heels if she wants to make it in the cutthroat world of fashion. I plan on developing an eating disorder and entering Britain's Next Top Model next year. This lesson will be the first step to achieving my dream.”

  A frown swept its way across my face as I studied her. And then it dawned on me. She was embarrassed over what we had done. We were supposed to be friends, not fuck buddies. When I was done with her, she wouldn’t even know the meaning of the word embarrassment anymore, because I was going to dirty all her clean right up.

  Still, I decided to allow her to withdraw. Forcing her to shed her armour all at once was not the way to go about things. I would play this at her pace for a while and see where it took us. Clapping my hands together, I declared, “Right, well, we'll have to start you off on a pair of low ones.” Then I went inside my room to find a suitable pair of heels to begin with.

  “No way, I want the sexy flashy ones you wear on stage,” she called after me with humour.

  “You're already sexy enough, Fred,” I shot back, and grinned when I was met with silence.

  Yes, that had certainly put her in her place.

  July 22nd, 2012.

  Soundtrack: “Crush” by Sleigh Bells / “Combine Harvester” by The Wurzels

  Two weeks had passed since Fred and I had our fumble. I was starving for her touch, and I thought she might be starving for mine, too, but she never would have admitted it.

  Dorotea had been trying to get in touch with me, but I wasn’t interested. Now that I’d had a taste of Fred, no other woman was going to cut it. I felt like all my life I’d been hungry, but only now had I become aware of it.

  Everything about Fred called to me. And it wasn’t just physically. Her inner spirit drew me to her. I loved her humour. I loved how she said inappropriate things or blurted out stuff before thinking it through.

  I’d roped her into helping me plan a housewarming party at my apartment, because I’d been in Dublin for almost a month and felt it was time to officially mark things as permanent. Fred agreed to cater it for me, so I was left to do the invites and the entertainment, for which Phil volunteered to lend me his karaoke machine.

  It was a personal favourite of mine to watch drunk people make a show of themselves while singing karaoke. I got a devious sort of enjoyment out of it.

  I was looking forward to the party until Phil informed me he’d had the good grace to invite Dorotea. The woman was becoming a pest with all the phone calls and texts, so I wasn’t thrilled to have her there. In all honesty, I was hoping something would happen with Fred, and Dorotea’s presence wasn’t going to help matters. Still, I didn’t have the heart to uninvite her.

  I showered, styled my hair, and dressed in a dark shirt and slacks. A touch of aftershave, and I was ready. Phil said I looked set to pose for the cover of GQ, and I liked that idea. I wanted Fred to be impressed when she saw me. With her working as my show assistant, she spent so much time looking at me in dresses that I felt the need to remind her I was all man.

  Soon the guests began to arrive, and I was swept away in my duties as host. About an hour had passed before my eyes locked on Fred coming into the apartment. She was wearing a sinfully tight black silk dress that clung to her every curve and showcased her breasts in a way that practically got me hard just from looking at her. Her hair was pinned up, which made my fingers itch with the need to pull it loose. I did, however, admire how the up-do exposed her neck, a neck that I desperately wanted to suck on and bite.

  I stared at her until she finally gave me her eyes. I thought I saw her breathing deepen when she became aware of the fact that I was watching her, and I tried to communicate all of the need I felt with a single scorching glance as I walked toward her.

  Dorotea had cornered me, and I had been waiting for an excuse to steal away. Fred’s arrival was as good an excuse as any. When she saw me coming, she turned her back to me, fixing her attention on a painting I had hung on my wall. I stood behind her, hoping she could feel my heat. The way the skin on the back of her neck prickled told me she was all too aware of my presence. I placed a hand on her hip and brought my mouth to her ear.

  “I like your dress, and your hair looks be
autiful up like that.”

  She was holding a glass of wine, and I noticed her hand shaking slightly as she brought it to her mouth for a sip.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, then glanced to the side before looking back at the painting. “Dorotea's not happy that you've left her to fend for herself.”

  Immediately, my temper rose as I ground out, “Fuck her.”

  “You already have, but why the venom? I thought you two were best shagging buddies,” Fred answered back. Her tone was teasing, but there was a certain bite behind it.

  I was honest with her when I said, “She's been calling me nonstop, looking to come over. It's driving me insane. Phil mentioned to her that I was having this party when she dropped into the club the other night. She proceeded to call me up and complain that she hadn't been invited. So that's why she's here.”

  The second I finished speaking, Fred turned to me, her expression angry. “Well, it serves you right. I mean, look at yourself, Nicholas. You're handsome and charismatic. You can't just sleep with a woman and then expect her not to want to see you again.”

  Her words cut me deep, and I was instantly wondering if she was speaking for herself more than Dorotea. Ever since things happened between us, I’d been waiting for her to make the first move. Don’t get me wrong, I’d been flirting with her every chance I got, but I hadn’t been making any real advances. Maybe she interpreted my lack of moves as a lack of interest. If that was the case, then she couldn’t be more wrong.

  I didn’t want to get into an argument with her, so I answered casually, “I'm twenty-eight, Freda. I've had lots of experience with clingy women over the years. It doesn't mean I have to like it. But let's rewind a moment. You think I'm handsome and charismatic?”

  Her lips twitched before she let out a long sigh. “You know you are. Maybe that's the problem.”

  So she was accusing me of being vain. I suppose it wasn’t the first time. Still, I wanted her to know that while she thought I was handsome, I thought she was the most beautiful, sexiest woman I’d ever known. I brought my mouth to her ear, allowing my lips to touch her skin as I replied, “The admiration isn't one-sided. I think you look completely fuckable in that pretty little dress.”