Tainted Love
Jaimie Roberts
Copyright © 2020 Jaimie Robert
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any other information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction, all names, characters, places, and events are the products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
Bonus Chapter 1
Bonus Chapter 2
Possession Excerpt
Notes & Acknowledgements
Other books by Jaimie Roberts
Author Bio
8 Years Ago
“I don’t want you to leave me,” I whine, hating how pathetic my voice sounds.
My brother steps forward, a small but sad smile curving his lips. Within touching distance, he loops his fingers through my hair and places a strand behind my ear, lightly cupping my chin with his thumb and forefinger, holding my stare.
“Dad will look after you. And if not him, Uncle will.”
I crane my neck behind me to make sure my parents aren’t within listening distance. My brother, now twenty-one, has decided that I’m old enough in my fifteen years to look after myself—to leave me with a mother who likes to drink herself into a stupor, and a father who—although nice enough to me—enables my mother’s habit because… well, I’m pretty sure he wants her dead. My brother always craved to join the army but stayed because of me. He stayed because he knew he would be the one and only one who could look after me properly. My mother can’t, and my father tries his best, but he once gave me food poisoning when he cooked dinner. My brother, after that, cooked whatever we could gather at the time, until I was old enough to take over that chore myself.
“You know I’ve wanted this for a while, Bri. You’ll be sixteen soon and doing your exams. The world is your oyster after that. Hell, you can even join me… if you want.”
He winks, ruffling my hair like I’m a child. When I complain, he chuckles under his breath.
“Joining the army has been your dream. Not mine.”
My brother glances over my shoulder towards our parents before his eyes land back on me. “It was a dream pushed on me.”
I nod my head, a wave of sadness encasing me. I understand why he wants to leave. I will do the same once I turn sixteen, take my exams, and get myself a job. Seven more months and I will be able to leave home.
I can’t wait.
“Just don’t forget about me.” My slightly raised eyebrows cause him to chuckle.
“Seriously, Bri, how could I ever forget you? You’re my only sister. It’s me who needs to worry about you. Without your protective brother around, all the boys will come flocking, asking you out on dates. You’ll forget all about me soon enough.”
I nudge his arm, scolding him. “Hey, that’ll never happen, and you know it.”
My brother extends his arm out to me and produces his little finger. “Pinky promise?”
I giggle and shake my head before latching my little finger round his. Ever since I was a little girl, about six years old, we have been pinky promising things to each other.
“Pinky promise,” I reply, biting my lip. Fresh tears begin to sting my eyes, but I fight them because no matter how much I don’t want him to leave, I also want him to be free of this shithole life we’re in. When he first told me he was leaving to join the army, I had caused a scene, screaming and shouting, throwing things around the house. It was only when I calmed down that I realised what a selfish brat I was being. Just because I can’t be free just now, doesn’t mean my brother can’t. Besides, if he hadn’t joined now, he would have had to wait a few more months. I couldn’t do that to him—no matter how selfish I want to be.
Wrapping his big, strong arms around me, my brother pulls me in for a hug. “I’ll be back before you know it. And I’ll send money when I can so you can set yourself up somewhere. I promise. All this is as good for you as it is for me. Once you have your own place, I’ll come visit on my leave dates. We’ll have so much fun, you and I.” He pulls away before kissing me on the cheek. I grip his jacket, unable to let him go. I know I have to, but the selfish part of me is currently winning out.
“Right, everyone on the coach now!” a man in camouflage shouts. I look around, finding lots of people hugging, kissing, saying their goodbyes. I drown out the sniffles of the girlfriends. If I don’t, it won’t be long before I’m sobbing alongside them.
Just a few more minutes and he will be gone.
Just a few more minutes before I can cry.
“Take care of yourself, Son,” my dad says from behind me.
My brother smiles as he shakes his hand. “I will, Dad. Thanks.”
We both chance a look at my mother who, without my dad holding her, is swaying from the booze she’s been drinking since eight this morning. It’s currently ten, and apart from that, her only son is about to leave and join the army. You’d think she’d try and lay off the alcohol for him this one time. But no. Alcohol makes people selfish, and she’s as selfish as they come.
With not so much as an acknowledgement from her, my brother sucks in a breath. “Well, I guess I better go.” He then looks directly at me. “I’ll message you once I’m there.”
“You promise?” I ask, trying to smile.
“Pinky promise,” he says, holding his little finger up. “I’ll either call or message every day.”
I attempt to smile at him, but the more time runs out before he has to leave, the more my heart hurts. He hugs me one last time, says a cursory goodbye to our parents, and then all I can do is watch. I watch as he walks towards the coach and queues up before taking his first step. I watch as he moves along the aisle until he finds a seat. I watch as he blows me a kiss through the window, offering that bright smile that always manages to lift my spirits. I watch as the coach leaves, and the last thing I see is his hand waving.
Then I cry. I cry all the way home with my mum complaining about the noise the whole journey. I cry when I’m on my bed with only my pillow to comfort me. I cry all the days and weeks that follow without him. I cry when years go by, and my brother does two tours of Afghanistan.
The second of which, I lose him forever.
8 Years later
I close my eyes when I feel his tongue flick across my nipple, a slight moan leaving my lips. I feel his heavy breath above me, his slow, torturous hand caressing m
y other breast as it cascades down to my soaking pussy.
“Fuck, Bri, you’re always so wet for me.”
He inserts his finger into my wetness, causing my back to arch slightly. I’m so turned on. Always so turned on for this man.
Ever so slowly, his finger slides out of me, but only so he can start his leisurely strokes around my clit.
“Oh, God!” I cry out, loving the sensations flooding my body. His tongue darts out at my nipple again, flicking once, twice, three times before his lips wrap around my little nub and he starts sucking.
“Chris!” I shout, unable to hide my emotions from him. I’ve never, in this last year of living with him, been able to hide just how much pleasure he gives me.
“I’m going to fuck you, and you’re going to come around my cock. Got it?” he growls, plunging his finger back inside my pussy. I cry out, my breaths uneven and shallow. “Bri, I can’t hear your answer.”
Licking my lips, I nod my head, my hands fisting the dark blonde wavy locks I love to run my hands through.
“Say it, Bri. Say you want my cock inside you. Tell me you’re going to love it so much that it’ll make you come. Tell me!”
“Yes!” I scream, needing my release. Over the past twelve months, he’s perfected the art of knowing exactly what my body wants and uses it to his advantage. He learnt what makes me tick and what doesn’t. He’s acquired the knowledge as to what will make me scream and my toes curl with heightened pleasure.
Opening my eyes, I find him staring down at me with a wicked grin, the dimple on his right cheek winking at me. His ice blue eyes caress my face as his finger pushes back inside my heated core. “I love you, Bri.” His face lowers until his lips touch mine, his short stubble rough against my cheek. I touch the side of his face, stroking down his chiseled jawline, a vibratory moan rumbling through his mouth into mine. He pulls his finger out of my wetness, quickly finding my little nub, and once perfectly placed, he runs slow circles around my clit, causing me to thrust my hips. I want more. So much more.
As my head begins to dizzy, I groan into his mouth, needing so badly to scream out my arousal, but he halts me with his lips. His kiss hardens, and his finger starts to move quicker. His rough actions cause my body to quiver. He recognises that I’m close to orgasm. He knows exactly the right time I’m about to detonate.
When I’m almost there, he pulls his finger away, but only wasting enough time to thrust his big, hard cock inside of me. I scream out his name, and he groans out his pleasure. Every time, he can’t help himself.
He’s as obsessed as I am.
“You make me lose my mind, Bri. Fuck, you feel so fucking good.”
He leans down, kissing my mouth again then begins his beautiful torture with his hips. The feel of his cock inside of me waves hello again to the orgasm I’d lost. It’s back in full force, rearing its little head to the surface, taunting me—teasing me.
Chris flexes his hips, thrusting hard before both of us are moaning, clutching at each other as if one of us will be pulled away. With a free hand, Chris finds my hip and squeezes as he thrusts his cock again, our sweat meeting as our bodies unite.
He lifts his body slightly, but only so he can suck on my nipple as he thrusts harder and harder with each flex of his hips. Needing to touch him, I place one hand on his arse, and with every clench of his cheek as he thrusts his way inside of me, I feel my climax rising.
With my other hand, I thread my fingers through his hair as he carries on sucking my nipple. Everything… it’s all… too much.
“Chris!” I scream again as my body starts to clench. He senses when I’m about to come because his own movements grow more rigorous. Skin slaps against skin as he grunts, his feral growl making my body heat and prickle with euphoria. Knowing we’re both losing control, he pulls away from my nipple and solely concentrates on giving me his all. His cock slams into me, time and time again, and with each moan from his lips, my orgasm climbs, faster, harder.
“I’m going to make you come so hard, baby. So. Fucking. Hard,” he pants between each thrust.
The familiar wave starts to ride my body, and just as it’s at the precipice, I grip his arse with both hands and push him inside me. I come apart, screaming his name as an orgasm like no other rips me apart.
“Baby, you’re going to be the death of me,” he groans as his movements grow even faster. My orgasm rides on as he continues his onslaught, and right at the point when it’s about to become too much, he flexes his hips one last time, releasing his climax inside of me.
With my eyes closed, all I feel is the giddy, calm sensation riding through me. That very same sensation that I try and hold on to as long as I possibly can before reality strikes.
“God, I fucking love you,” he says again, kissing me on the cheek before rolling off me. For a while, we lie on the bed catching our breaths as we come down from our orgasms, the only sound is our steady exhales. I close my eyes, relishing the moment. Every single time, I let it come over me. I let the euphoria wash over me like a tidal wave. Because in a few minutes, I’ll calm. In a few minutes, that reality will set in.
And then all I will feel is nothing but disgust.
“How long are you going to stare at my bacon sandwich?”
I snap my head up from my fixed position at said sandwich and, instead, flick my eyes to my boss, Charlie. I’ve been rumbled, and he knows it.
With my head held high, and I literally mean held high, I have to crane my neck just to look at him. He’s at least six and a half feet tall, muscular build, his skin a smooth, milk chocolate brown, and the most light caramel eyes I often get lost in. He looks a cross between Idris Elba and the guy from Bird Box who wins Sandra Bullock’s character’s cold heart… what’s his name?
Anyway, what I’m trying to say is his presence isn’t exactly unnoticeable. To men, he’s a threat, but to women, he’s like a bottle of Prosecco and a box of chocolates all rolled into one.
To put it mildly, he commands a room.
Always dressed impeccably in a suit, Charlie Cox is the mysterious, dark presence and owner of the second-hand furniture/antique store called Tickety-Boo in Waltham Forest, East London. I’ve had several jobs over the years—ones that lasted no longer than two months. This one, however, has gone the distance. Just last Wednesday was my six-month anniversary as manager and all-round bookkeeper of the shop. I love it here, as not only is it a ten-minute commute by car, it also holds some of the most interesting regular customers I have ever come across. So much so, each and every one of them has their own unique name.
Freddy the Flirt.
Matthew the Moaner.
Lottie the Lover.
I think you get my drift.
“I’m not staring at your bacon sandwich.”
With one big hand resting on the counter I’m sitting at, he lets out an exasperated breath. “Did you eat this morning?”
I turn my head, immediately giving away my answer. Before he has a chance to say something, the bell for the door rings, announcing a customer.
“Freddy,” I chime, a bright smile tilting my lips at the sight of him.
Freddy, a big man in his seventies with lots of silver hair, glasses, and a black moustache walks in looking as refined as always in his three piece, dark grey suit. Even though he’s retired now, he still travels around London like he’s got a high-class job. He had once been in banking, and had told me that he couldn’t wait to retire as they were all a bunch of tossers.
On my greeting, Freddy turns his head to me and raises that bright smile of his. “Bri, what a sight for sore eyes.”
I can practically hear the silent groan coming from the big man behind me. “Freddy, are you here for something to buy, or have you come to chat up my staff again?” Freddy glances over my shoulder at Charlie, giving him a knowing wink. I hear movement behind me, and when I turn, Charlie says, “I’m going out for five minutes.” I nod my head and salivate as he bites into his bacon sandwich and opens the shop�
�s front door. I knew I should have eaten this morning.
I watch as Charlie disappears before turning to face Freddy. “What can I do you for, Freddy?”
He approaches the counter, facing me before setting his hand on top. He looks chirpy but tired. “Why don’t you like people calling you Brianna?”
A full belly laugh escapes me. “Did you come in here just to ask me that?”
The corner of his lips curve into a cheeky grin. “No, I came in here because I’ve had an eye on that thingy-majig over there,” he states, waving his finger behind him.
I crane my neck to where he’s pointing. “You mean the crystal naked lady?”
“Yeah, that.”
I chuckle. “You could have just said the naked lady, and I would have known.”
He turns to me, placing a hand on his heart. “I didn’t want to say that word in front of a real lady.”
Oh, I’m no lady, I think, sadness temporarily hitting my chest. If Freddy ever became aware of my dark secret, he would be disgusted with me. Anyone in the right mind would.
“That’s very noble of you.” I offer him my most sincere smile, forcing those dark thoughts deep down into that little box of something bad. I refuse to let my personal life interfere with my job, and today will be no exception.
Freddy leans forward. I match him, so I can listen to whatever it is he has to say.
“You never answered my question.”
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