by Aline Riva
Badboy
Badboy by Aline Riva
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
A Kindle Original 2016
Copyright ©Aline Riva 2016
Cover Design Copyright ©Nathan David Ward 2016
The Author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
All rights reserved. No part of this publication be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Dedication
To those who never give up, and most of all, to those who write.
Chapter 1
Everyone has a story to tell and this one is mine. I'm writing it in a journal that I keep locked and when it's finished I'll hide the key until the time is right to open it. Because I have to write it all down while its clear and every detail stays bright because this is the past and my way of keeping it preserved. It’s about me, the man I loved, why I loved him and exactly what happened - what really happened...
I should have done so many things differently, I see the way other people’s lives have turned out and I think the nice house and the car and the good job and everything that goes with it should have been for me. I could have aimed for everything I wanted right since college and I would have got them, everything, all of it.
But I didn't.
A small town can be like the worst place on earth, not exactly the worst - I have been to far worse, down colder and deeper than being stuck in a place with no life and soul to it, it makes me laugh when people think boredom is hell.
I've seen hell and it carries many shades. For me it used to the entrapment of being stuck in a small town and having the feeling I didn't belong there. Later I found hell can be crawling up the fucking wall because my bones were made of jelly and couldn't I breathe and my heart wanted to explode because I knew the pain of my heart being ripped in half like torn paper. Hell has also been fear, and running and not stopping, it's been holding the man I love in my arms while he was bleeding from a gunshot wound. Hell can be thinking you're going to lose the person you love.
For me, hell is all of the above. But when love is there it makes a difference. Love is the thing that keeps all of us alive and sometimes that power and the beauty of it can wind right down into the soul -and that's the moment when we know we have something precious, no matter what loving that person might mean or cost us in the end.
First time I met him I wasn't expecting to fall in love. I'd never found a prince, given up on that a long time ago after the losers I'd known, my dreams of a prince charming had long flown away along with my teenage years. I was in my thirties and still attractive - but there was no one who I could call that man of my dreams, the one I had always longed to meet. That longing that had been locked up with a heart shaped key inside my romantic heart had stayed locked up for many years, so many I honestly thought the key had rusted in the lock and would never turn again to let in light. I never thought it would happen. Love was not for me, even if I was very much for it. Trying was something I'd abandoned long ago, I had come to accept there would always be a void in my heart and I would never know love, not the real kind.
And then I found him.
It was an ordinary day and I wasn't looking for something to change my life. I thought waiting around for love was for dreamers and all my girly thoughts that used to float about on the what ifs and maybes had popped like balloons on the bastard pin prick of reality long ago. But I walked out of my door and turned the corner and there he was, opening the door of a sleek silver car. The place where I lived backed on to a shop and the man who rented it sold cars, so when he took off the sign that said the car was for sale at eleven grand and then he tossed it away, I just assumed he was the new owner.
I looked at him, he looked at me. And I felt something hit me that had not hit me so hard before in my life. He had a body as sleek as that car, he was tall and slim and the way his black jeans hugged his hips made my gaze go downwards - but I quickly shot my gaze back to his face and he smiled at me. I smiled back at him and found myself looking into his dark eyes as he stood there looking handsome as he gave me a smile, and I thought how I'd like to run my fingers through his dark hair. I couldn't stop looking at him. That man had eyes that could hypnotise.
But then he got in the car and let the window slide down on the driver's side.. I walked over to him as he started the engine up.
"You just bought this?"
It was all I could think of to say.
"It's all mine now," he replied.
"I haven't seen you before. Do live around here?"
"No, I was just passing through," he said.
Our eyes had locked again and I knew my face was going red, I was feeling so many exciting sensations rushing through me. Looking at him was enough to do it, he was making me horny and I wanted him to know it - yet I didn’t know what to say. Thankfully he helped me out.
"You like the car?"
Not as much as I like you, I thought to myself. I could tell he was not from around here; men in this town just didn't have that much attraction about them. I was still looking at him.
"Do you need a lift?" He asked me.
I smiled.
"Yes please."
I got in the car and as soon as I'd done it I knew I was doing the most impulsive thing in my life – here I was, in a car, with a total stranger - purely because I wanted him. As we drove away towards town I glanced at him again and my eyes ran down his body. Then I glanced at him and I looked back at his face. I felt my heart miss a beat. That car interior was making it worse too, it had leather seats that made me imagine him reclining back and me diving down and giving him head. I was drunk on attraction and when he asked me where I wanted to go I just smiled and said I didn’t care.
“Well,” he said to me, “I have to go and see a mate and then I'm going back to my hotel room and tomorrow I'm out of here. I have a lot to do. I'm a busy man."
He lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out of the open window.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Sally."
"I'm Jack.” he said,”I used to know this area but it's changed a lot in eight years."
"You've not been back for eight years?"
We turned left and went into the local housing estate. He carried on driving in silence, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
"Why haven’t you been back?" I asked again.
"I’ve been away,” he told me, “But I'm here now because I have to see an old friend, he's been looking after something for me."
I smiled.
"Sounds interesting..."
He shot me a look and I saw a trace of ice about his eyes, it was there for just a moment, and then it was gone as his dark gaze sparkled with warmth.
"It's nothing you need to think about. I've just got to pick something up. I'm going to stop the car in a minute, just wait here, okay?"
And then he smiled.
"Then you and me can go for a drink or something."
My heart almost jumped out of my chest as I felt a tingle inside and and an ache that made me want to to dig my fingers into the leather seat as I thought about what the or something might turn out to be...
We pulled up outside a red bricked house at the end of a terrace row. He stopped the car and got out.
I watched him open the gate and walk up the path, I was watching his legs and his hips and undressing him with my eyes. He knocked on the door. The man who opened it abruptly made a move to close the door, but Jack shoved it open and went inside. As t
he door swung back again and didn't shut, I sat in the car and listened, hearing raised voices coming from within...
Chapter 2
It was curiosity that made me do it. I'd already taken a risk by getting picked up by a stranger and now it was driving me deeper, and so I just went with the urge, I got out of the car and walked up the path. I pushed the door open and that was when I heard the shouting coming from the living room. I stood there in the open doorway, staring as I watched the scene unfold:
The man who had opened the door was now on the floor, his face a bloody mess. There was blood on Jack's knuckles and he was standing over the man with a gun pointed in his face.
A gun.
A real one.
Jack had a fucking gun...
His eyes were blazing with rage as he looked down.
"Eight fucking years inside and my cut's gone?" he yelled, "I went down for you and that fat cunt, I took the fucking rap!"
The man on the floor was a real mess, he was trembling and bleeding and begging for his life.
"He ripped me off too...I swear...he did...Drake's dead...house fire three years ago...I'm sorry, it wasn't me...I didn't take the money..."
Jack's grip tightened on the gun.
"Please," he begged him, "Please don't kill me, it's not my fault...Jack, I'm sorry, please man, don't shoot...I got a bird now, I got kids...”
Jack glanced at the family pictures on the shelf but then looked back at him and that gun was still in his face.
"You've had eight years more than me," he stated darkly, and lowered the gun and then put it away. He glared down at the man who was bleeding on the floor.
"Have a nice life," he said, and kicked him in the face.
As he turned to walk away he saw me standing there. He stared at me.
"Get out."
His eyes were still blazing, but I did as he said, heading back to the car. I got in, watched him walk up the path, his hands bloodstained. He looked at me as if he wanted to order me out of the car but instead he just got in and started the engine and we drove off. He took the long route around the back streets, driving in silence. Then he started to talk.
"I did eight years for fuck all," he said suddenly, and although his eyes were still on the road I saw tears running down his face.
"Four of us, me, Matt, Gary and Drake...we did a bank job, a big one, in 2008. It went wrong. I went down, I got a ten stretch. Drake and the others got away because I didn’t grass. Look where it’s got me. Eight years inside, now I’m out and my fucking moneys gone! Drake must have ripped us all off... I have to find Matt. He was like a little brother to me back in the old days, last thing I heard he bought a pub so he must have got the money from somewhere..."
He pulled into the car park of a local hotel and sat there and took a deep breath, wiped his eyes then looked down at the blood on his hands.
"Gary should have told me...Matt went to ground for a long time and I've only heard about him on the grapevine, never spoke to him since. I got nothing, nothing now! A few credit cards that are not mine that will do for a while but I've got nothing...”
He took out the gun and held it in his hand, just sitting there looking at it.
"And I have this. That's all."
I reached out, my fingertips brushing the metal, my fingers curling around the weapon. It was heavier than I expected and I guessed it had to be loaded, but I lifted it carefully off his lap and placed it under the seat out of sight.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly, "Eight years must have been so hard, shut up in a cell like that."
He glanced at me and managed to smile.
"Wish I'd known you then, I bet you could have kept me going..."
And his eyes wandered down my low cut top, then back to my face again, "You certainly could have helped a lot." he told me, "You're beautiful."
I didn't need to wait. I leaned closer and we kissed. As our lips touched I never wanted that kiss to end, I was running my hands over him and aching for him so much that the warmth between my legs was making me hurt. I slid my hand up his leg but he pulled back. I saw desire in his eyes and he wanted me so much but he managed to pull away, even though he was breathless and aching with longing as much as I was.
"Not here," he told me, "I've been locked up for eight years and I want more than a quick one in a car."
As soon as we got out of that car it was like the air was filled with electricity. His hand closed over mine, we walked towards the hotel and as we got inside he took they key from his pocket led me to his room and unlocked the door. I followed him inside, he closed and locked it behind us.
Once that door was locked, I didn't care about the world beyond it. He took me in his arms and we kissed again, falling back on to the bed. I reached up and started unbuttoning his shirt, then my lips were on his chest, just kissing him and kissing him, loving the scent of his skin. As I sucked on his nipple he ran his fingers through my hair and held me close and I didn't care he still had blood on his hands from the fight, I just wanted the closeness, for us to be one. Then he lay back and impatiently ripped his zip down, pulling his jeans further down too, and he gently pushed me downwards.
"It's been eight years," he said, breathless with desire, "Suck it for me, suck it, make me come...”
He was so hard I didn't need to be told twice, his eyes were like dark pools and he was breathing heavily and his face was flushed with arousal. I dived down there and took him right in, deeply, closing my mouth around his erection as he gasped and murmured words of encouragement. I felt him growing even harder as he thrust into my mouth, as he did it I placed my hands on his hips and held on to him, welcoming his orgasm hot and fast into my mouth.
He was still getting his breath back as I kissed him down there one last time and then took him in my arms.
"That was better than all the dreams I had while I was inside," he told me.
Being in his arms felt safe, like the safest place on earth, as if it had been the place I'd been seeking all my life. He held me close and kissed my cheek.
"Thank you, let me lay here for a while and then I'll make love to you properly. I've been using my hand for eight years, oh god that was such a relief!"
And he gave a sigh and closed his eyes. I watched him as he slept, running my fingertips over his face, sweeping my hand over his hair, and then I gently ran my hand down his throat and down to his chest, where it rested, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as his breathing slowed to an even pace. down his body. And then I thought about what he'd said about leaving and felt an ache in my heart.
He opened his eyes and looked up at me, and I felt as if he had almost read my mind.
"What's wrong?"he asked.
I couldn't hold the words back as I met his gaze.
"I don't want you to leave."
Jack kissed me.
"I'm not leaving yet," he whispered softly, and then he tugged at the zip on the back of my dress and I slipped it off. As he took off his open shirt I ran my hands over him again, then as we lay naked together I kissed down his body, pausing to linger at his hips before I took him in my mouth again. But he pulled back and pinned me down, his weight on top of me made me shiver with longing and I wrapped my legs around his waist as he slid into me with a gentleness that surprised me.
"You're beautiful," he said again, and this time I knew he meant it. As I felt him inside me in a fluid, thrusting movement that made me gasp, I was lost in the moment and I never wanted it to end. I could feel him getting harder with every movement, as if he wanted to explode inside me.
"I'm not on the pill," I said breathlessly.
"Okay, okay...I won't come inside you...”
Then he held me closer and kissed me again.
"I gotta go a lot harder now, I want to fuck you so much...”
He thrust into me so hard that every movement made me cry out, then he buried himself deep inside me, filling me with warm wetness as he shivered and gave a moan against my shoulder. Then he breathed h
ard against my shoulder for a few seconds and then raised his head and looked into my eyes.
He looked breathlessly into my eyes.
"Sorry for the rush," he said, "But you turn me on so much."
Then he rolled off me and took a few breaths before reaching for his cigarettes and lighting up again.
"So what are you going to do now? Find Matt?" I asked.
"I have to. He's the only one who can help now. And I need some money, I need it fast."
He put out the cigarette and went into the bathroom, had a shower and when he came out I was glad to see him without blood on his hands again. But as he looked at me I saw his mind was made up.
"I'm leaving, Sally. I have to."
I watched him get dressed and then he looked back at me.
I wanted to beg him to stay; I had never fallen in love so fast in my life. But Jack was a man who had to leave and get on with his life, pick up the pieces - and so much had been lost and I knew he would have a long hard road ahead of him after eight years in prison.
"Bye," He said, and closed the door behind him.
I thought of his kiss, his touch, the way he had smiled at me in the car, everything flashed in front of my eyes.
I was still wet from making love with him as I threw my dress on and put on my shoes. I dashed out of the room leaving the door open, bolted outside just as I saw the silver car heading towards the exit.
"Jack!" I yelled.
The car stopped. Then he backed it up, stopping beside me. He said nothing, just glanced at me.
I got in and we drove away.
Chapter 3
"Thanks," I said.
Jack kept his eyes on the road ahead.
"Well, I’ve had enough go wrong I may as well take a chance. But don't be glad about it. I'm not a decent bloke. If I was, I would have drove off and left you standing there,I wouldn't have brought you into my mess. No one deserves my mess. So I'm sorry about that, Sally. You wont be thanking me later, not the with the situation I'm in."