I nodded, but my face must have been deadly serious with unhidden anger.
“The new girl paid a deposit and we made her sign an agreement so she couldn’t do what you just did to us, Ashley.”
“Bess. I told you. I didn’t do anything, you did hear that, didn’t you Bess?”
Bess’s face froze. She was stuck. She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m sorry Ash. We signed an agreement with this girl - we didn’t have one with you. She has rights now.”
“What about my rights? What about my stuff?”
“It’s all there piled up in the corner of your room. I was going to call you about it this weekend, but I’ve been busy too.”
“Jesus, Bess.”
“Hey, this is not my fault.”
“No. And it’s not mine either. The stuff will have to stay here a little while, Bess. Stick it in the laundry cupboard until I can get fixed up.”
“I thought you were fixed up pretty good, from what I heard.”
“Yeah? Is that what you heard? You heard wrong.”
“Sorry, Ash. Look… I’ve got to get ready for work.”
“Yeah. Just drop that letter in to me as soon as you can.”
“I’ll get you a copy later today. I might need the original in case things get… awkward.”
“What? Just give me the damn letter Bess! What, do you think I’m going to take you to court?
Don’t be so ridiculous. This isn’t you fault,” I said, but Bess’s tired face didn’t change. She looked cautious, suspicious even. “Just show me that letter. You’ve evicted me on account of a letter I didn’t write, so the least you can do is show me the bloody thing!”
Her face reddened, and she nodded and moved out of the room. I waited, looking out of the kitchen window over the park behind our building and the views of South London beyond. It turned out that was the last time I would ever see that view
Within an hour of leaving my old place I was back at Brandon’s flat. Bess hadn’t even given me the letter. She said she couldn’t find it, but Bess seemed afraid of repercussions and I didn’t believe her. Either way, I think I knew where that letter had come from. I had to work out how to play this from now on. So far no one but me knew that I intended to leave Brandon, but with no home to call my own, I was between a rock and a hard place. I paced up the stairs and saw Amanda watching television in the front room. She looked round at me, a triangular slice of brown toast and honey in her hand.
“I thought you’d gone.”
“So did I. Is he awake yet?”
“Does it look like it?”
I shook my head and walked away. She was still playing the fool, but I knew her reasons. I tried the handle of Brandon’s bedroom door, and opened it quietly. There he was, his big muscular bare chest exposed, his finely toned pectoral muscles and well defined biceps in all their glory. I closed the door and stood there briefly and annoyingly mesmerised by his male beauty and filled with resentment for him at the same time. I moved and he didn’t wake up. I dumped my bag carefully and walked across to the bed. Right there and then I could have done anything to him. I could have poured cold water over his head, or emptied the trash on him, or slapped his face as hard as I wanted to. I stood there looking down, appreciating the curves of his body, the stripped down fatless tone of his abs, all the way down to where the duvet covered his modesty. Even at rest, without trying at all, Brandon had a very fine body to look at. I laid my hand gently on his bicep and looked at my finger nails. I didn’t go for the crazy varnishes, but I had good French-polished nails. They were strong. I could have scratched him to ribbons. After all he had done to me he deserved it. He didn’t stir. Strangely, as angry as I was, I found his sleeping state and his exposed body strangely alluring. I could have hurt him. I could have kissed him. I hated what Brandon was doing to me. On the one hand he was ruining my life, a fact which no one but Cody had seemed to notice. On the other hand, they didn’t notice because he was also Brandon Lynes, writer, personality, and all around local Adonis. Right now I had a foot in both camps. I traced my finger gently along the curve of his bicep, contemplating scratching his skin until he bled all the while, and then I slid my fingers across the his chest, feasting on the smooth skin and supple muscle, enjoying the hard ridges and the contours of his musculature. When I reached his abs, it must have started to tickle, because Brandon stirred. His big blue eyes opened when my hand was touching his lower abdomen, just an inch above that inviting duvet. He looked up at me. He looked down at my hand, and he smiled.
“Hey baby. Where’ve you been?”
I took my hand away, but the sense of his gorgeous body still resonated within me. I kept my tone hard, but I knew that I was equally full of attraction for him. I wondered if he could read it in my eyes. Guys like Brandon… yeah, they usually could.
“Why did you do it, Brandon?”
“What?”
“You cost me my job. And now you got me evicted from my flat. How dare you?”
“Oh.” That was it. He slapped a hand across his head and wiped his brow then he sat up. “I want you to live with me, baby. I want my gorgeous little girl to stay with me. And do you know why?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Do you want me to show you why?” Brandon folded back the duvet cover and I saw his hip, and hint of what else I would like to have seen.
“Get in bed.”
“Brandon! You’re nuts. You’re all about control. You’re taking control of my whole life. It’s not fair! It’s scary!”
“I like to be in charge. Don’t you like that?”
“No!”
“I saw your eyes, Ashley. You thought I was asleep. You were going to touch me, right? Maybe it’s your turn to be in charge, huh? Is that what you want?”
I wanted to tear his skin. I wanted to bite him. I wanted to shout in his face, and all the while his big blue eyes were playing with me. His supple body called me. The half open duvet lured me.
“You’re a bastard, Brandon. Do you know that?”
“If you say so.” He took my hand and laid it on his thigh just by his crotch. His warmth made me heat up inside, the rage mingling with the heady feeling I was experiencing since raking my hand over his sleeping body. I was tingling and hit with guilt at the same time. I was aroused, cheeks flushed and sensed my juices were flowing. I was such a fool for this guy, such a freaking idiot, it was like I wanted to be played by him. My hand stilled as I struggled with the idea of running from the room, but the heat in my abdomen, and my lust-drunken head won. I slid my hand down his thigh and found his swollen penis calling me. The shaft of his big cock throbbed in my hand and I knew he needed me. It was good to be needed, even by a bastard like him. I knelt on the bed and he smiled. I began to play with his dick, teasing him, telling myself I could use this as a kind of revenge. I pulled at the length of him, and teased the head of his cock with a finger. His cock was moist there, and all ready to go.
“I’m in charge?” I asked.
He nodded. “It looks like you are right now.”
I pushed his body back down onto the bed, and drew back the duvet cover. His throbbing cock was pointing to the ceiling, fully engorged. I weighed his testicles in my hand. They felt full.
“Oh, you need me, Brandon.”
“That’s right. I do.”
“And what if I don’t want to?”
“Don’t be cruel, honey. I saw your eyes looking at me.”
“Shut up. I’m so sick of your bullshit, Brandon.” He smiled and stayed quiet. His cock throbbed again and I let go. I didn’t want him coming in my hand. I was in charge, and I wanted something out of this. I slid off my jeans. I dropped my panties too, business-like, like a guy about to do the deed. He looked over at my body, and I felt his eyes on my pubic mound and my hips.
“Stop looking. This is my game. Close your eyes.”
“But, shit, you look good.”
“Shut up.”
He did as I told him.
I
pushed my body over his, and straddled him with my thighs over his hip bones. I knew he loved the soft skin of my thighs and I used them against him, sliding my weight up and down until his laser-guided cock nudged against my labia. I could feel his body tense with expectation. I must have been wet because his penis almost pushed straight into me but I denied him and denied myself. I was going to enjoy this game. I laid my hands on his chest and stroked and revelled in the touch of his chest. I trailed my hands down over his six pack and down the line of the V of his abs which led down to his bush of dark hair. I could feel his pubic hair against my pussy, spreading my wetness on him. I felt his cock throbbing harder than ever, its head nudging my ass hole. I was ready now. It was my time.
“You’re a fucking bastard, Brandon. You got that right?”
He laughed. “Yeah. I heard you.”
“Good,” was all I said. I tilted my body down over him, and pushed back. My body’s push forced his hardness into the only available place it could go – my slick and hungry vagina. I pushed down, and felt my pussy expand as it absorbed him and then shocked and full, I pushed down so my clitoris rubbed against his body. I felt the first wave of drunken desire blend into a hint of ecstasy. He groaned. “Shut up.” I said. I pushed my body up and almost pulled away. The head of his penis lingered between my labia. I teased him. I teased myself. I was hot now, filled with lust and I needed to be full. I pushed back down on him, hard, until I absorbed every millimetre of his manhood. Then I ground my body around, pushing my mound onto him, thrusting up and back, riding him, making his penis rub the hottest pleasure-pain makers in my entire body. It felt like I was going to burst. I groaned and so did he. “Shut up,” I whispered, as heat and an explosion of sweetness flooded upwards from the throbbing in my clitoris. I was gone. I groaned and pushed and rocked down on him, making his cock stick into the deep of me. I hated him, but he felt so good inside me. Then I felt his body tense - his cock swelling so I knew he was about to cum. I opened my eyes and looked at his closed eyes and open mouth and I grinned. I pushed my hands down onto his stomach and pushed my body up and off him. His throbbing manhood was slick with my juices. His eye blinked open, but he was too far gone to stop what was about to happen. I watched his cock throb up and spurt a shot of pearl white cum into the air, landing on his abdomen, and into the mess of his pubic hair. As he groaned and reached for me, I was already pulling on my jeans.
“Ashley… Ash.”
“Shut up Brandon. It’s finished.”
“What? That was so good.”
“I’m leaving Brandon.”
“But what about what we just did…?”
“That was just my way of saying goodbye.”
“You’re joking, right?” He sat up.
“No. I’m leaving.”
“But you’ve got nowhere to live… except here with me.”
“Maybe. But I’d rather be homeless than spend another minute with a lying, cheating scumbag like you.”
I walked away to the door, knowing he couldn’t follow me unless he wanted Amanda to see all his personal mess in all its glory.
“Remember what I said to you, Ashley. Remember? I warned you.”
I shook my head at him and closed the door. I passed Amanda in the living room. She looked across at me with red cheeks and angry eyes. She had heard everything, of course. I didn’t care.
“Don’t sweat it. He’s all yours, Amanda.”
I left her festering and walked out into the street, slamming the door behind me. I had taken a small slice of revenge, and I felt a tinge of happiness. I was homeless, totally alone, but I knew the toughest times lay ahead.
Five
Maybe I was kidding myself that my little goodbye sex with Brandon was to punish him but I knew after leaving him in that state, his ego would be bruised. I knew him well enough by then to know he would be humiliated and enraged. By leaving him like that I was throwing salt into the wound. But he had opened enough wounds in me that the guy deserved a good few of his own. I was homeless now but I still had some money left. I swung by Purdy’s without any shame or apology and picked up the money that I was owed. Thankfully I saw Reggie, not Purdy, so didn’t get any more hassle. All in I’d worked up almost four hundred pounds at the expense of my studies. Now that phase of my life was over. With Penny gone, and even my lesser friends like Bess and the girls who I had lived with right at the start, above the Loampit Inn, I felt like I was sinking into a lonely quagmire. No matter which way I had turned, Brandon had unleashed cruelty in my life, but Penny didn’t see it. A little while back I didn’t have a college place, and now I had a college place but didn’t have a roof or a bed. I was seriously confused and I was beginning to blame myself for everything, even though the tiniest voice inside my head was telling me that this wasn’t my fault. I don’t like self-pity, I never have, so I decided I would pull myself out of it. To do that, I needed some help – I needed to find Cody. I phoned him again, but there was no reply. Second of all, I hung around the library for a few hours until I saw a couple of the hipsters that Cody hung with but never described as his friends. I saw the beanpole guy with the beard who sometimes drank coffee with Cody at the café.
“Hey. Have you seen Cody? I’ve been looking for him everywhere.”
The guy shrugged and spoke in a strange too-deep voice. “No. I heard he went away for a week, so I suppose he must have done.”
“Is there anyone who might know for sure?”
“He’s more buddies with the Professors more than anyone else. You tried speaking to Cantor?”
“Professor Cantor? I’m not sure I want to.”
The big guy laughed. “Yeah. I know what you mean. But he’s your best bet.”
The beanpole guy waved and left me to it. Cantor, damn it. That guy was the one who demanded all the tough answers on William Blake. He looked like a cartoon leprechaun brought to life, all tweed and check trousers, and checked shirts with unmatching ties. He looked like be bought his whole wardrobe from a retro-lecturer clothes outlet. Now there was a gap in the market. I sucked a deep breath and walked to the English corridor without much conviction. I paced the narrow document strewn walkway gazing at the small type-faced diaries beside each cubby-hole door, each tiny office belonging to a different Professor. I came to Cantor’s. The corridor was quiet so I decided he wasn’t in, and made to walk away without trying the door, but the creaking floorboards must have given me away. Cantor’s door swept open quickly, and there was the ginger-bearded Professor Cantor, his head sweeping left and right before his wild little eyes landed on me.
“Ashley Pearson?”
I was taken aback that he remembered my name and nodded.
“Yeah…”
“Are you looking for anyone in particular or do you enjoy skulking around in corridors as some sort of hobby?”
“I have other hobbies. Professor, can I speak with you… just a moment?”
“I have a smidgen of time. Come in.”
He opened the door into his musty old academic room which was more an unkempt and uncared for office in-tray than a seminar room. “Sit down.” He said gesturing to one of the paper strewn soft chairs with wooden arms. I picked up the papers from my seat and laid them aside. The Professor, a man maybe in his mid-sixties, took up station at his desk.
“Now, what can I do for you, Ashley?”
He looked at me and pressed a pen to his mouth.
“Cody Barnes, Professor. He’s a good friend of mine, but we’ve had a little disagreement. I need to know where he is because I want to explain something to him… I want to make amends.”
“Ah,” said the Professor with a knowing smile. “Normally, I really wouldn’t divulge the whereabouts of one student to another, but I happen to know that Mr Barnes is something of a fan of yours, Miss Pearson,” said the Professor in his Irish lilt.
“Really? Why do you say that?” I asked.
“I just happen to know, that’s all. I don’t just read books, Miss Pea
rson. I can read people too.”
He started writing down a note on a jotter pad then he tore it off and handed it to me.
“You do know that Mr Barnes is an outstanding writer, don’t you, Miss Pearson.”
“I do.”
“He speaks highly of you. He says you’re skilled too and Mr Barnes should know. One day he is going to be a star. I’m perfectly serious on that part,” said the Professor. “Mr Barnes has gone to the Yorkshire Literary Festival. He finally won a competition after he sent some little manuscript he’d worked up in his spare time. He’s got an agent now and he’s up there to talk to a publisher and perform some readings of his piece. It’s something I’m sure you’d like to hear.”
“Really?”
“Yes, I think you would. That’s the address. He’ll be there for a few days yet.”
I smiled at the Professor, my gratitude shining out at him. I wanted to hug him, but I knew there were professional boundaries all round him like invisible red lines so instead I just smiled as hard as I could.
“I’m sure it’s hard to believe, Miss Pearson, but I too was young once,”
“Actually, Professor Cantor, it’s not that hard to believe. Not at all. Thanks,” I said and left the Professor smiling to himself in his dim little office. I decided Professor Cantor wasn’t that bad after all…
I didn’t want to break into my college fund too much, so thankfully the money from my job at Purdy’s was able to take the strain. I bought a ticket at New Cross Station, taking the few grubby clothes I’d had with me at Brandon’s and made my way towards Central London, and back out again for the big journey to York. Finally, I was going to get a break away from Brandon’s clutches. No matter what Brandon could do to me, he really couldn’t affect me at all while I was away up North. Already I was breathing freely again, and I was excited, because I was going to see Cody. Cody, the competition winning writer, a man who spoke highly of me to Professor Cantor. As I thought of the Professor’s words, I wondered just how much Cody had spoken of me, and whether there really was a romantic interest there. From the glint in Professor Cantor’s eye, I hoped there was.
Questing Heart: Fighting Heart Erotic Bad Boy Romance Series Book 2 Page 3