by Angel Devlin
Something settles inside me at the sight of the blood spraying from his nose. One day I’ll get the chance to do this to the man who’s tormented me my entire life. But for now, this guy will do.
I channel all my pent up anger into the motherfucker’s face, and by the time the red haze lifts and the woman he was going to hit pulls at my arms, I feel a hell of a lot better after not fucking Mia the way I needed to.
I look to the woman. I’m not sure if her face shows relief that I taught this guy a lesson or if she’s even more terrified.
Lifting my wallet from my pocket, I pull out a load of notes and hold them out to her. “Do yourself a favour and get the fuck away from this wanker.”
She nods, hesitantly taking the money from my hand and I take off towards the car that’s waiting for me.
Climbing in the back, I bark my address at the driver and stare down at my knuckles. It’s been a while since I’ve seen them quite so busted up. Not so long ago, it was a pretty regular thing. I stretch my fingers out, watching in fascination as the skin splits open.
By the time we pull up outside my building, the pain up my arm is starting to ease and my frustration is creeping back in. My go to is usually a woman, but I’ve just about had my fill of them today—there’s something I never thought I’d say.
I push through my front door, stripping out of my suit as I move towards my bedroom. I dump everything into the laundry basket, well, everything apart from Mia’s ruined underwear. I drop those to the top of the unit. A little prize from my conquest. I wonder if she’s noticed they’re missing yet? The thought stirs something within me that I’d rather not acknowledge. I tell myself that it’s just regret because I didn’t fuck her like I intended, but I can’t help thinking it’s something else. My desire to go back and finish the job is strong but that is not my MO. I rarely go back. Especially not now. My stomach turns over at the thought.
The memory of that photograph isn’t far from my thoughts. I fall down onto the edge of my bed wearing only my boxers and unlock my phone.
I open Instagram and type her name in. I need to know why she’s got a photo of him in her room. I need to know if my suspicions are correct. He’s obviously important to her, and my need to know exactly how important is all consuming.
I begin scrolling through a stream of beautiful, flawless images of her face. Every now and then there’s a full length and I get to remember the body I left behind. My cock swells as I wonder just how her pussy would have felt. It’s wrong, so fucking wrong.
I must scroll through hundreds of images, watching Mia get younger as I go down until I find one with him in it. The image has Mia between her mother and him. It’s obvious they’re at a wedding or function and they’re all smiling at the camera. I click on it and read the description.
Mia_Hamilton Spending the day with my family. Want to know how I did my make-up? Check my previous post for my tutorial. #familywedding #familyiseverything
The mention of the word ‘family’ has my heart racing. It’s not a word my father knows the meaning of despite the fact he’s created a few too many over the years, and I’m sure I don’t even know the half of it. My heart pounds. Please, dear God, don’t let her be my… Fuck, I can’t even go there after what could have happened tonight.
Getting to the end of her posts, I try searching for her mother, but I don’t find an account for her. I know that she kind of disappeared from the public eye over the past few years, but I’m still surprised to find nothing.
I switch to Facebook and although I find her page, nothing’s been posted for years and I don’t find any evidence of a legitimate personal account.
Googling her mother, I bring up her Wikipedia page. It states she’s single, but that doesn’t really mean anything. He’s not married anyone besides my own mother. He can’t, seeing as he refuses to divorce her. Getting nowhere, I finally open my contacts and find a number for someone who’s going to give me the answers I need.
He answers the phone after only two rings.
“William, I need you to find my father. I need to know where he is and who he’s living with these days,” I say before he’s even greeted me.
“No problem, Mr. King. I’ll get the information you need within a few days.”
“I appreciate it.”
I hang up knowing that I’ll get the confirmation I need probably in a matter of hours. William is the best PI I’ve ever worked with. I’ve no doubt he’ll find everything I’m failing to.
My muscles are still pulled tight and I’m twitching to do something. After shooting off a message to the guys to meet me in a couple of hours, I drag on a pair of joggers and a t-shirt and hit my home gym. If I can’t fuck, then the next best thing is to work out.
After exercising until my muscles scream for reprieve, I turn the shower on as hot as it’ll go and stand under the torrent of water. It burns as it hits my skin, but I need the evidence of my time with Mia gone. I already know that I’m not going to be able to get it out of my head, but I can scrub her from my skin.
I meet Tyler, Ant, Oliver, and Jack at our usual bar not long after I finish my workout. The four of them take one look at me and push a large glass of scotch towards me.
I nod in appreciation and down it in one.
“Was the interview that stressful?” Tyler asks in amusement.
“Like you wouldn’t believe.”
“We all know it’s a challenge for you to keep your cock in your pants on the best of days, but we weren’t expecting Mia Hamilton to drive you to drink,” Jack adds with a shit-eating grin, pissing me the fuck off. “And what’s with the busted-up hand?”
“Wife beater got a taste of his own fucking medicine.”
I gesture to the barman in XCluSiv for another drink. This place is run by Tyler and Oliver’s other brother, Rex. It means we always get the best seats, the best liquor, and we always have access to downstairs should we so desire. As tempting as the darkened delights of the basement might be, I opt for shooting the shit with the guys and staying as far away from women as possible, for tonight anyway. Mia and Karla’s photoshoot is tomorrow and I plan on being there. If Mia is who I think she is then our time together is far from over, although the events of tonight will most definitely not be repeated. I might be fucked up, but I’m not that fucked up. But lucky for her friend who seems up for anything, she might just find herself right in the middle.
The morning seems to drag and I hate the fact that it’s her pending arrival and my waning patience to hear from William that’s causing it. I shouldn’t care about her, or him, for that matter. I should be grateful that my father is potentially fucking over someone else instead of me, but my need to know the truth is getting the better of me. And if she is one of them, then she sure as fuck is going to know about it.
It’s ten minutes before their shoot is about to start when my phone finally rings, William’s name lighting up the screen. I rush to answer, hitting the loudspeaker button so I’ve no chance of missing anything that he has to say to me.
“King?” he asks when I don’t speak.
“Tell me everything now.” I ignore any pleasantries. I don’t give a shit about how his day is going or how his kids are.
“He’s not an easy man to track down, your father.” Fucking tell me about it. “A few of my leads were dead ends but I finally found his current address.”
“Cut the shit and tell me what you know,” I bark.
“He’s living with an old ex-beauty queen. Anna-Maria Hamilton. She used to be married to a hot-shot music manager.”
“How long’s he been there?
“On and off for about fifteen years, I think. Looks like he must like this one,” he adds, stirring even more anger inside me. William knows my dad; this isn’t the first time I’ve asked him to find his whereabouts. That means around the time we found out about my brother he was also romancing this other woman. My hands fist.
“Her daughter. I need to know he had nothing to do wit
h her. The music guy was her dad, right?”
“As far as I can tell they’ve had no kids together, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
The sigh of relief that passes my lips is huge, before a smile tugs at the corners.
Game on, baby.
I’ve no idea if she’s aware of the kind of monster she’s probably been calling daddy most of her life, but she’s about to discover that he’s a pussy cat compared to his son.
Glancing at the clock once he’s hung up, I realise that the shoot has already started. Grabbing my coffee, I make my way to the office that ensures I’ll be able to watch the action.
They both look hot, I can’t deny that, but my eyes automatically fall on Mia as she poses for the camera. The shoot starts off like something that would be at home in Vanity Fair, but as time goes on, both girls shed more and more clothes until they’re both down to their underwear.
Unable to remain hidden and allow her to think I’m not keeping an eye on both of them, I pull my phone from my pocket when there’s a pause in shooting.
I send a few to Mia, riling her up about how hot Karla looks. It has the exact effect I was hoping for. I watch her muscles visibly tense as she reads my words and starts looking around for me. That’s the brilliance of two-way glass; she has no fucking clue where I am right now. Fuck, if that thought’s not making my cock hard.
I continue my messages to her but add her friend into the mix. I pull up the message I all but ignored when Karla sent it yesterday. I can’t say I wasn’t delighted when she reached out to me; it saved me the effort of finding her number that’s for sure.
Deacon: You are looking fine. Do you have plans after?
Those three little dots start bouncing almost immediately, I’m not surprised. She’s down there staring at her phone like it’s her lifeline.
Karla: Nothing I wouldn’t cancel for you.
Following Mia’s previous move, she slowly runs her eyes around the room, hoping to find me, but she’s going to be disappointed.
My phone ringing puts an end to my messaging and I find myself standing talking to a colleague while watching the shoot get raunchier before me.
When I eventually hang up, everything’s over and the girls have both left the studio, but when I look at my phone, Karla has sent through an address and time for our—I hate to say it—date.
It’s only for in an hour’s time, showing that she doesn’t understand that some people actually have to work for their money.
I’m tempted to rearrange my meeting so I can meet her, but in the end I decide that leaving her waiting wouldn’t be a bad thing. She’s keen enough that she’ll hang around for me if I just give her a hint that she might get what she’s waiting for.
I send her a reply confirming that I’ll be there and tell her how much I’m looking forward to it. A bare-faced lie. In reality, the last thing I want to do is spend my afternoon with her pawing all over me, but I know it’s a sure-fire way to get to Mia and I’ll do whatever it takes if that’s the result.
Chapter Eight
Mia
She’s going out with Deacon King. My heart feels like it falls in my shoes. He’s playing her like he’s the Pied Piper and she’s a rat, when in actual fact he’s the fucking vermin.
If I can’t drink, I want to take off all this make-up, get in my pyjamas and just lie on my bed in the peace and quiet. It starts to hit me what I might have set in motion with this programme. There’s going to be a lot of promo to do, a lot of hanging around at photoshoots and interviews, and that’s not even thinking about all the filming of the show itself.
I have to make sure I get time to myself. Time to unwind. Time to review my business plans to make sure I’m on the right track to independence. I pick up my bag, getting ready to leave.
“Be careful around Deacon, okay, Karla? I don’t trust him. And don’t be too late, first day of filming tomorrow, remember?”
Karla sighs. “Fuck, Mia, you’re beginning to sound like my mother! I’ll be back when I’m back. That’s what the make-up people are there for. If I have to look a bit dark-eyed because I’ve been up all night being shagged senseless by Deacon King, I’m going for it.”
Once again, I realise I’m just wasting my time. “I’ll see you later then. Bye.” I pick up my bag and arrange for my driver to collect me from the front of the building.
On my way out, I bump into Oliver again. “Sorry, I didn’t get back. Did everything go okay?” he asks; though I can see as his eyes dart past me that it’s a polite question and he’s somewhere to be.
“Yes, thanks again.” He nods and I head for the lifts, exit the building, and get in my car and back to my apartment. I’m too tired to play games with Deacon King and so just in case he has any ideas about giving me a play by play of his date with Karla, I keep my phone off.
After pouring a glass of champagne, I lower myself into the jacuzzi bath in my en suite bathroom and sigh in pleasure. There’s just me. Me and bubbles, both from the fizz and the Jacuzzi. Bliss! My shoulders begin unknotting as the jets hit them just so. The pressure of the water is so hard it’s almost bruising on my thighs and back. It’s how I prefer it and how I like my massages, like I feel it’s working the muscle hard to loosen it.
As I sink back under the water, my mind can’t help wandering and thinking about what’s happening on Karla and Deacon’s date. There is no way he really wanted to date her. It’s some pathetic attempt to annoy me. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with that man. What caused his outburst in my room? Why did he want me, then abruptly change his mind?
Games. I tell myself. He’s a player and women are just a game. You’re a pawn and he’s just moving you around, literally the King, looking for checkmate.
Move on. My thoughts urge. Focus on the show. Get an early night. Filming starts at ten. I concentrate on emptying my mind and relaxing, letting the jets work their magic, but it’s no good. No matter what I do, his face enters my mind, and I’m still reliving coming outside my best friend’s door. It was risky, it was stupid, but it was so damn hot. My core is wide awake and begging for attention. I move myself to the edge of the tub and hang my knees over, angling myself until one of the hard jets sprays directly onto my clit. I’ve never done this before. It’s so powerful, almost to the point of uncomfortable, but I move until I get myself to where the jet is hitting me just so. I close my eyes and imagine it’s Deacon’s tongue. Pushing two fingers inside my slick opening, I tilt my hips, getting into a rhythm with the jet. As there’s no one home I can just allow myself to completely let go and so I allow my moans to escape.
“Oh fuck. Oh yeah. Yes. Yes. Fuck. Oh my god. Oh my god. Yes, Yes. Ooooooooohhh.”
I buck furiously as the jets and my fingers take me over the edge. A blush hits my cheeks at what I just did and who I was thinking about while I did it. Once my body has calmed a little, I turn the Jacuzzi off and rise out of the water, wrapping myself in a robe.
Climbing onto my bed to dry off, I finally switch my phone on and find I have several messages from Karla.
Karla: He’s late.
Karla: How long do I wait?
Karla: Can you come meet me? Just until he gets here. He says he’s stuck in a meeting but will be here shortly.
I have several missed calls and voicemails.
“Where are you? I don’t know what to do.”
“He says he’s stuck in traffic now. I feel ridiculous. Everyone is staring at me.”
But she’s not the only one who’s messaged.
Deacon: Well, well, how shall I play this? Karla is sat waiting for me in a restaurant. What do you want me to do?
Deacon: While you ignore me, she’ll just have to wait.
Deacon: Fine. We’ll see how long she’s willing to stay there.
What the actual fuck? He’s not going to turn up until I message him? I tap onto my phone.
Mia: Karla, are you still there waiting? Fuck him, get yourself home.
Karla: Exact
ly. I want to fuck him. Especially now I’ve had almost a bottle of champers to myself! Just ordered some oysters to go with it ;) He says he’ll be here soon.
I want to scream in frustration. Every knot I’d unfurled in the bath is now back tenfold. I smack the keys so loudly tapping I’m surprised I don’t crack the screen.
Mia: My friend is waiting. Go on the date you arranged.
Deacon: Ah, now you answer. And shall I just buy her dinner, or shall I fuck her?
Mia: Do whatever you like. It’s your date.
Deacon: Really? You want me to fuck her? Okay, then what? Shall I get her hanging onto my every word, lead her to think I’m the love of her life?
Mia: You seem to not be understanding me. DO WHAT YOU LIKE. IT’S YOUR DATE.
Deacon: Hmmm, What I like. Well, that’s to have the woman on their knees begging for my cock. For me to fuck them, leaving them wanting more, and me to break their hearts and dance on the broken pieces. I’ll set off now.
Mia: Do not play with my friend’s emotions. She doesn’t deserve it. She deserves the best.
Deacon: Well for her to get the best of me, someone will have to endure the worst…
I pause while I gather my thoughts.
Mia: What kind of sick game is this? Leave her alone.
Deacon: Wanna play?
I don’t want him messing with my friend. He’s got me because I need her home from that restaurant safe and sound. Then I think.
Mia: I’m going to forward her these messages. Show her what kind of man you are.
My phone buzzes and there’s a video. I click onto it and what I see makes a sob rise in the back of my throat.
It’s all moans and weird angles but it’s clear to see it’s me, lying outside of my best friend’s door, screaming for Deacon to make me come.
I call him.
“Do you know how many times I’ve jerked off to that? It’s why I’m late meeting your friend.” His mocking voice hits my ear.