In Like Flynn

by Donna Alam

  ‘Though she be but little, she is . . . feisty!’ I’d bucked up into her hand, the shock of the movement giving me the momentum to roll her onto her back. I’d pinned her hands either side of her head.

  ‘It’s fierce,’ she corrected with a sexy little growl. I planked over her body, dipping down to brush my lips against hers. And my dick.

  ‘Same thing, duchess. Yeah, that’s it. Wriggle your hot self a little more while I explain, birthday girl.’

  ‘Oh, so you do remember,’ she said, squirming harder. ‘And yet you’re still being a horrible arse!’

  ‘Just saying it as it is. You’re all wrinkly. In a good way.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘From the birthday party from hell to the birthday where my boyfriend tells me I’m looking old. Well, you know what? Your dick is wrinkly.’ She’d stuck out her tongue and I’d laughed again.

  ‘Babe, it’s not very wrinkly at the minute.’ It was rock fucking hard. ‘Let me start again,’ I said smiling down at her. ‘Happy Birthday, oh gorgeous one. You don’t look a day over twenty-five. You’ve just got pillow creases on your face that I’m finding oddly erotic.’ Or maybe it was the fact that waking up to her this morning was different. Real. Maybe it was more that I’ve been imagining waking up with her every day for the rest of my life, looking forward to that point in the not too distant future where we’d be lying under the covers, squabbling over who was going to get out of bed first to tend to our wailing child.

  Her gaze narrowed then she burst out laughing herself, her next breath little more than a sigh as I’d shut her up with a kiss. She’d arched her nakedness against mine and I’d spent the next hour in a blissful kind of exploration, devouring her like the delicacy she is. Finding all those places that made her sighs curl through the air and breath stutter in bursts from her mouth. Then we’d fucked, skin to skin, and it was glorious.

  After a soapy and very slippery shower, with a tone much sillier than last night, I’d made coffee, insisting she open my birthday gift. The rest of her gifts could wait but I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to see her reactions. I’m not sure she appreciated the coupons for sex. Or the candy G-string. But she seemed to like the mug I bought her to use at her studio. She laughed, anyway. It had originally read “I love cock” but I’d added the word “Flynn’s” with a little arrow after love. You know, just in case anyone around her needed confirmation of that.

  There was also the dirty weekend away I’d booked for us in Brighton next week, though I feel a bit of a tit for passing that off as a birthday present ’cause it’s as much a gift for me as it is for Chastity.

  Good times ahead.

  ‘Who does the car belong to?’ Chastity asks.

  The morning is grey, the sky full of the kind of clouds you know promise a drenching. I click the fob and open the passenger door for her, ignoring the wanker, I mean, caterer, Tate, watching from the other side of the road. Hands off, mate.

  ‘The car? It’s mine, babe.’ A Jaguar XJ. ‘I had the F-Type before this one. When Rafferty, my brother, visited London last year, he refused to get in it. That was a pretty good incentive to keep it, but I got tired of only having two seats.’ I kiss her, just one brush of my lips against hers. Maybe it’s an arsehole move, like a dog pissing on his favourite tree, but I reckon that’s okay as I really want to kiss her, too.

  She slides in to the car, knees together like the lady she is, still looking a little confused as I close the door behind her. Not confused about the kiss—that made her smile. It’s probably the fact that I own both a high-end car and bike. European manufactured and expensive. But there’s time enough to explain these things. It’s not like I’m a total rev head or a wastrel. I just like nice things, including quality vehicles. But at the end of the day, they’re just a means of getting from A to B, and with London traffic, you usually stay between those two points for far too long. So the way I look at it, I may as well be hanging around in style and comfort.

  ‘Go on, belt up.’

  ‘I thought you had a motorbike.’

  ‘I do. You’ve seen it.’ As I start the engine, I turn to look at her. My girlfriend. The mother of my future offspring. My future wife, if I’ve got anything to do with it. I can’t believe I get to see this woman naked whenever I want. Within reason, of course. ‘You know I don’t catch the bus carrying that helmet, don’t you?’

  When she smiles, I smile. When she giggles, it feels like a contact high or something. I pull out into the road feeling like a fucking king.

  We go to Camilla’s London bolt-hole, aka her apartment and escape from the bucolic boredom of her country house. Charity ducks in and picks up clean clothes before we head over to the hospital.

  ‘Cam, it’s overcast out there. It’s going to rain.’ Chastity sighs with an air of long suffering. ‘There really is no need for sunglasses.’

  In answer, Camilla swirls her Burberry poncho thing over her shoulder, catching me in the face with the fringe.

  ‘Don’t worry, darling, it’s cashmere,’ she says by way of apology. ‘Now, lead on, Charlie, get me out of this godforsaken place.’

  Chastity smiles apologetically at the ward sister, taking the notes for the GP and further appointment cards that Camilla appears to have no intention of taking. She begins jogging along behind her aunt.

  ‘Must be the trauma,’ I say as I pick up her abandoned bag.

  ‘Hmm. I expect so,’ replies the ward sister with barely a smile herself.

  Once restored to her rightful place, Chastity fusses over her aunt. I’m beginning to wonder why Camilla is her favourite, to be honest. She seems a bit of pain in the arse.

  ‘I’m sure you must have other things to attend,’ Cam insists. ‘I’ve called Doctor Randolph and he’ll be here this afternoon to discuss this hellish experience.’

  ‘It could’ve been much worse,’ Chastity replies sternly.

  ‘Yes, the ambulance could’ve taken me to that awful place. You know; what’s the name of that hospital again?’

  ‘You know fine well that’s not what I mean. You gave me an awful fright, Cam. You have to take better care of yourself. For you and for me!’

  For the first time today, Camilla looks chastened as she takes her niece in her arms. ‘There now. There’s no need to be upset. You aren’t getting rid of me quite yet. I have the last of your uncle’s wine cellar to deplete before I pop off this mortal coil.’

  ‘Cam!’

  ‘It was a joke. You know I’m living until at least one hundred and fifteen. I’ve too many things to do. Off you go now,’ she says, turning Chastity in the direction of the door. ‘I’m sure you have lots of naughty things to get caught up on at work. And thank you, Flynn, for taking care of my favourite niece.’

  ‘Your only niece,’ Chastity grumbles.

  ‘Semantics,’ she replies with a vague wave of her hand. ‘Can we expect to see you around more?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I say with a grin. ‘I’m almost part of the furniture now.’

  ~*~

  ‘I didn’t think you were coming in today.’ Keir barely looks up from his laptop as I throw myself onto the leather sofa in his office. ‘I tried to ring you earlier.’

  ‘I’ve lost my phone.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘I need to cancel the sim and get a new one.’ But first things first.

  ‘How’s Chas doing today?’ Keir asks, concern showing in the pinch of his brows.

  ‘My loving girlfriend is very . . . loving. And also doing fantastic.’ Well, she’s as okay as can be expected for someone who’s still fretting about losing her favourite relative.

  ‘It’s like that, is it?’ he says, looking up. ‘You finally pinned her down to absolutes?’ Too fucking right, not that he needs to know the exact details of my morning. ‘I thought you were losing your touch.’

  ‘My touch is just fine,’ I answer, rubbing my hand through my hair. Past complaints have been aimed at my lack of heart, not touch. But not this tim
e. This time I’m all in—heart, head, fingers, dick—everything.

  ‘So you blinded her to your many faults and moved into the serious zone. Well done, young padawan.’

  I chuckle, which turns into a belly laugh. ‘Padawan? So that makes you the Jedi Master, does it?’

  ‘Speaking as someone who’s been married twice, aye. And I’m trying to give you a bit of advice. You’d better treat Chas right because Paisley can use a gun.’

  ‘Of course she can. But it’s one of those ones that spray-paints makeup on her client’s faces though, right?’

  ‘You don’t want to find out, ’cause I’m warning you—’

  ‘No need to, mate. It happened. I’m in love for keeps. Chastity is the woman for me.’

  ‘Well, fuck me sideways.’ Elbows on the arm of his chair, Keir holds his Mont Blanc between the fingertips of both hands. He must’ve gone snooping around my desk to have found it. ‘And she hasn’t impaled you with an umbrella yet?’

  ‘Not yet but I have high hopes.’ He doesn’t answer but shakes his head. ‘Obviously,’ I begin, ‘your sex life isn’t as adventurous. My commiserations to Mrs Keir.’

  ‘Leave Paisley out of it.’

  I nod, accepting the warning, empathising for probably the first time. Wives and sweethearts are off limits, even from the mildest jab. ‘Anyway, speaking of adventure. I think it’s time I moved on.’

  Keir’s eyebrows almost retract to his hair line. ‘You’re serious?’

  ‘As a heart attack.’ Fuck, bad timing. ‘Chastity has stolen my heart and only this morning threatened to make earrings out of my balls. What was I to do but give in?’

  ‘Because she has your balls?’ he repeats, confused.

  ‘And my heart. I wouldn’t be giving up my position in perpetual servitude if she didn’t.’

  ‘Piss off,’ he counters mildly. ‘You wanted to learn the ropes, do the thing without bearing the responsibility, and that’s what you’ve done.’

  ‘But now I want it all.’ A wife, family, a home life. It’s time to grow up.

  I’ve worked for Keir for a couple of years now. I’ve learned from the best but it’s time to stand on my own. I’d never had the incentive before. I was happy with my life, switching off from work at six o’clock, no responsibilities beyond that hour. Weekends spent playing rugby, going out, and getting lucky.

  It’s been good to know Chastity doesn’t care how I made my living. She’s a cool kind of chick, I know. She realises I’m more than just a pretty face but has appreciated me for who I am, and not for what I appear to be.

  What she doesn’t know is that I’m actually decently well off. Rich, some might say. Not the yacht dwelling kind, though I’d previously spent enough years bumming around and squandering my inheritance. When I met Keir, the deal he offered me was pretty sweet. I’d assist him, be his back up, and meanwhile learn to become a killer property developer.

  ‘You’d better find yourself another slave,’ I tell him with a grin. ‘Because I’m off to the bank to transfer some cash. I want in on the Walton job.’

  Keir nods, holding out his hand. ‘Welcome to the land of grown-ups, man.’

  Chapter 30

  CHASTITY

  ‘How’s your grandmother?’

  I open my front door to find Tate on the doorstep, another bouquet of flowers in his hands. His shirt is crease free and his hair looks recently brushed. Meanwhile, I look like something the cat dragged in. And possibly vomited up. I’ve spent the afternoon in my home office apologising for missed bookings and paying compensation for loss of time, so my hair is currently corkscrewing all over the place, and my t-shirt might be slightly stained from where I’ve spilt a little coffee from my I love Flynn’s cock mug. It’s safe to say I don’t really have the time for niceties and don’t bother correcting him on the point that Camilla is actually my aunt. Great aunt. Besides, what would be the point? Because while I don’t believe Flynn was completely right about Tate’s intentions, I don’t think he was too far off the mark, either.

  So best not to encourage him.

  ‘She’s okay, thank you for asking.’ I take the proffered bouquet. ‘It wasn’t a heart attack thankfully. And thank you for the flowers,’ I add, glancing at the pink blooms. ‘I’m sure she’ll love them.’

  I’m not entirely certain the flowers were for Cam, but it’s best to assume they are or else why would he be bringing flowers to a girl who’s already said she has a boyfriend—a boyfriend he’s been introduced to, no less. It’s not the kind of bouquet you buy a neighbour for their birthday and I’m beginning to feel a little awkward keeping him at the door, especially as he’s showing no signs of buggering off.

  ‘Actually, I have to get on,’ I begin, stepping back. ‘I’ve got so much work to do today.’

  ‘Sophia seems like a nice girl.’ My hand pauses on the partially closed door because there’s a particular note in his tone that tells me that’s not quite what he means.

  ‘Yes, she is,’ I agree, shifting my body. It’s strange, but something tells me I should just shut the door in his face. And be done with this exchange. But then he seems to shift himself, or at least his demeanour does.

  ‘Look, Chas, I didn’t just come over here to give you flowers. Flowers for your granny, I mean. ‘I just . . . ’ He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a black iPhone.

  ‘Oh, you found Flynn’s mobile! He’ll be so pleased. He’s been looking all over for it. I did suggest it might’ve been packed away by one of your staff. Did he call the restaurant?’

  ‘Actually, I accidently picked it up last night,’ he says. ‘I thought it was mine.’ He shrugs modestly, casting his gaze down to the thing in his hand. ‘The thing is, Chas.’ His eyes rise then, their sharpness contradicting his tone, daring mine to look away. ‘This is so awkward. I didn’t want to bring this over to you, but I also thought you deserved to know the truth.’ He passes the phone into my hand. ‘You see, when I said Sophia seems like a nice girl, that’s exactly what I meant. Seems. Appearances can be deceptive.’

  As the phone touches my palm, my eyes are drawn to the screen by movement.

  A video.

  Is that . . .

  Oh, God. I think I’m going to be sick.

  ~*~

  ‘Why are you sitting in the dark?’

  Afternoon has turned to dusk, dusk to full dark since I’d mumbled something to Tate before slamming the door in his face. I’ve been sitting in the same spot on the couch torturing myself, watching the video again and again, trying to make sense of what I see.

  Trying to prove to myself that it isn’t what my brain tells me this is.

  Flynn switches on the light, concern flickering across his face. ‘What is it,’ he asks, coming to his knees in front of me. His warm hands hold my colder ones. Colder, whiter, bloodless, almost. Because these are hands that have held something abhorrent all afternoon. ‘Is it Camilla? Why didn’t you ring? I sent you a text from my new phone.’

  I don’t answer, unless you classify an undignified sniff as such a thing, as I fight tears and the tell-tale tingle in my nose. I pinch the flesh from the inside of my cheek between my teeth in an effort to remain composed. Is it working?

  ‘Chastity, babe, you’re worrying me.’ I force myself to look at him as I pass him the phone I have hidden under my thigh. ‘You found it.’ His expression doesn’t remain cheerful for long, his eyes staring at a frozen frame. I lean over, hitting the screen to play the video again. The video dated last night.

  I don’t watch it play out because I don’t need to. And despite the fact there’s very little audio, I seem to know what he’s looking at almost frame by frame. Her mouth sliding down his wet penis. She gags a little as the head hits the back of her throat. The heavy sounds of his breathing as he uses her mouth like a receptacle.

  ‘What the fuck!’ His gaze flicks to mine. Is it angry? Confused? It’s hard to tell. That’s not me,’ he adds quickly. ‘Is that the girl from last nigh
t? The one in the white dress—what was her name again?’

  I don’t know whether to be upset or relieved that he doesn’t seem to remember. But maybe this is an act, too.

  ‘It’s your phone,’ I answer flatly instead.

  ‘Yeah, but that’s not me,’ he says more forcefully. ‘Someone must’ve picked it up at the party—recorded the fucking thing!’

  ‘Really, Flynn?’ For someone who feels she might be on the edge of losing her mind, I sound eerily calm. ‘That’s all you have to explain . . . this?’ I want to shout, be angry, but I’m afraid. Afraid I might be right.

  ‘What the fuck do you want me to say? It’s not me!’ he yells passionately. ‘It’s some woman who works for you, sucking off some random bloke in the dark. You can’t tell who it is, for fuck’s sake. Have you asked her?’

  I shake my head. Of course I’ve called—repeatedly. But she’s not answering her phone. Guilt riddled, maybe? Or maybe she only gives blowjobs, never really giving a fuck about anything, other than perhaps professionally.

  ‘So you’re okay to accuse me? The man you professed love for last night? But you haven’t asked the one person in this we can identify?’

  Identify her by her dark hair concealing his hand. Identify her by the familiar roll of her eyes, the practiced look of ecstasy. And by the way she stares up at him pleadingly.

  More. Deeper. Harder. Give it to me.

  ‘She won’t take my call,’ I say between gritted teeth.

  ‘So let’s go visit her,’ he demands, pushing to his feet.

  ‘I don’t know where she lives! She moved last month, and I haven’t updated her file.’

  ‘Right, so. What are we going to do then? Because this needs sorting the fuck out. That isn’t me, Chastity.’ His hand shakes a little as he pushes it through his hair. ‘The fuck it isn’t.’

  I stand myself, feeling like I could run a hundred miles just to get away for myself. From him. From this situation. My mind swirls with hurt, anger, and confusion—am I being used again? Why me? Why now? What did I do to deserve to be duped again?