Dirty Bad Wrong

by Jade West

  I raised my hands to his face. “You said you wouldn’t do that again, take off the mask.”

  “I’m doing a lot of things lately that I thought I’d never do. Now it’s your turn. Please, Cat, please give me a taste.”

  His hand was hot between my thighs again, balling my clit with his thumb. “Shit,” I moaned. “I can’t hold it, James, I can’t hold it anymore. I’m going to piss, James, I need to go. I can’t hold it!”

  “Good girl,” he breathed, dropping to his knees. I didn’t fight him as he spread my legs, didn’t make a sound as his fingers spread me open. “There it is, Lydia, all ready for me. I wish you could see how beautiful your sweet little piss-slit is.” He wriggled his tongue against me, digging at a hole way too small to penetrate.

  “Please, James, I can’t hold it,” I gasped, screwing my eyes shut.

  “Look at me, Lydia.” His tone was hard, insistent. I looked down. “I want this.”

  My body made my decision for me, caving under the pressure. The first rush of fluid spilled out without warning, and his mouth was on me, a primitive grunt sounding loud from the back of his throat.

  “More,” he groaned. “Give me more.”

  I moaned as the surge erupted, relief humming right through me, and once I started I couldn’t stop, not even if I’d tried. He kept his eyes on mine as he drank from me, swallowing some down, and spitting the rest back up to dribble down his chin. It felt so fucking wrong; it felt so dirty, and humiliating, and bad, and seedy, but so fucking amazing. It felt like bliss, the ultimate release, the most beautifully fucking filthy thing I’d ever done in my life.

  “Oh my God,” I wheezed. “Oh my fucking God.” My legs trembled, knees buckling, but he held me in a vice, sliding three fingers inside me mid flow. He pumped me as I gushed for him, and it felt so right. It felt so fucking right.

  He didn’t stop, not even when I was spent and euphoric, pressed against the tiles like my life depended on it. He sucked on my clit, moaning and grunting and hissing out words of endearment that made no fucking sense. White heat exploded behind my eyes, the grip of orgasm ripping right through me. I bucked against him, screaming his name, both his names, and he didn’t seem to care, burying his face in my pussy like I was salvation personified. I came down slowly, and let myself drop into his arms. His mouth tasted bitter, but I was past caring, lost in everything he had to give.

  “My turn,” he moaned. “Do you want me?”

  I didn’t register even the slightest shock, immune to any deviant thrill his mind could conceive. “In my mouth?” I asked. “Is that what you want?”

  “Not today,” he smiled. He got to his feet pulling me with him. “Spread your legs wide for me, that’s my girl, show me your beautiful clit.”

  “Ok,” I breathed, pulling myself open. “Whatever you want, Masque, do it, fucking do it!”

  “Watch, Lydia, watch how fucking wonderful this is.”

  He worked his cock in his hand, hard and ripe and so fucking big. I shuddered as he began to go, a short, sharp burst at first, before he picked up a steady flow. He aimed his dirty yellow jet straight for my clit, and I moaned like a whore as he hit the spot. “Yes,” he hissed. “Dirty girl, getting off on my filthy fucking piss.”

  “It feels so fucking wrong,” I groaned. “So wrong.” I reached for his cock, mashing him tight against me, until his hot golden river splashed all the way down my thighs. “Don’t stop,” I hissed. “Please don’t fucking stop.”

  “That’s my girl,” he breathed. “That’s my beautiful dirty girl.” He groaned as he finished, squeezing the base of his cock tight. “Taste me, Lydia, get on your knees and taste me.” I dropped down onto the wet floor, heart racing, and there, soaking wet and kneeling in his filth, I let my walls come down. I opened my mouth, gagging for just a moment as he slipped his filthy wet meat between my lips. “Fuck,” he hissed. “That’s right, that’s fucking right. Suck me clean, Lydia. I want to cum in your tight little cunt, all the way inside you.”

  I moaned around his cock, delirious and lost, right the way until he pulled himself out of me. He flicked on a shower without warning, and I squealed as a cold jet of spray soaked us both. He pulled me to my feet, angling my face into the jet until I was spluttering cold water, then raised me further still until my legs wrapped tight around his waist and his cock buried all the way inside me. I gripped onto his shoulders, dragging myself up and down his chest, and the friction of his skin against mine felt so fucking good.

  I rode him hard until he tumbled over the edge, bucking, and groaning and jerking his hips up against me. I wrapped my arms tight around his neck, peppering his face with kisses, and all the while he cried my name. It was the sweetest sound in the world.

  When he was all done he lowered us to the floor, pulling me to rest on top of him in a mess of endorphins and tangled limbs. The water turned itself off, gurgling to nothing, and I lay spent and helpless in his arms.

  “James,” I breathed. “I’ve never felt like this before.”

  He kissed my forehead. “I know.”

  “I mean it,” I whispered. “I’ve never felt like this.”

  He tilted my face up to his, eyes warm. “If we say it, that’s it, Lydia, a whole new ballgame. You can’t undo the words, they change everything. Is that what you want?”

  I silenced myself with his tongue until the urge subsided.

  ***

  Chapter Sixteen

  James

  Things really fucking escalated quickly. I felt edgy at work, disjointed. Haunted by the memory of all that had been before. I tried to push it aside, remind myself that Lydia Marsh was nothing like Rachel, nothing at all. Her life wasn’t consumed by the quest for attention, the temporary fix at the hands of strange men. Lydia was a different animal. A nicer animal. One I could rely on for discretion, who wouldn’t sell me out down the river of sensationalism, or so I hoped. I figured she was worth the risk, she had to be worth the risk.

  My nerves were appeased as she presented me with the latest Salmons update, her tone curt and professional, as always. Her eyes lingered on mine for just a moment, then calmly returned to the realm of professional colleagues. She handed me a printout of development updates with just a fleeting smile. It was me who broke protocol, reaching out to clamp her wrist in my hand, and gliding my thumb across her knuckles. She stared in shock, tense and uncertain, as though I’d gone completely barking mad.

  I slumped in my chair as she took a seat opposite.

  “Are you ok, James?” she said. “Do you need a coffee?”

  “No, thank you,” I smiled. “I don’t need a coffee.”

  A flicker of a grin ghosted across her lips. “Anything else I can get you?”

  “A personality transplant,” I sighed. “Jesus, Lydia, there’s so much I want to give you, but here, in this place it seems so untenable. I can’t break out of the compartments I’ve placed in my own life. What does that make me?”

  “Human...” she whispered. “Scared…”

  “Weak,” I said. “It makes me weak, and it makes this thing we have seem all the more intangible.”

  “We shouldn’t talk about this,” she sighed. “You’re breaking your own rules. This isn’t from me, James, it’s all from you. You’re the one who’s putting such weight on this whole work-home divide, not me.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “Monday blues.”

  “I’ve got a case of Monday purples myself,” she grinned.

  We were interrupted by a knock at the door. Frank blustered his way in, fishing for status updates. Lydia handed him the Salmons file, smiling as he thumbed his way through it. “Good stuff,” he announced. “This is looking fine, very fine indeed.”

  “Lydia and I are heading up the accounts briefing at head office in a few weeks’ time, phase one should be well in progress by then.”

  Frank smiled his golfing-all-weekend smile. “You’re getting quite a taste for these out-of-office jollies, James.” He nudged Lydia
. “You couldn’t get him away for love nor money at one point, Lydia, didn’t like the break in his routine.”

  “A bit of chaos never hurt anyone,” she grinned.

  “That’s what I said, isn’t it, James? Variety is as good as a rest, that’s true alright.”

  I held my hands up. “Fine, I get it, tag-teamed on a Monday morning. I’m not even on my second coffee yet. Give it a rest, will you?”

  “Tetchy,” Frank groaned. “So very tetchy. You must be a saint to put up with this all the time, Lydia.” He winked and I rolled my eyes, turning my attention back to my monitor.

  My extension rang, Hazel from reception. I took the call gratefully.

  “Mr Clarke, is Lydia Marsh with you?”

  “She is, why?” I heard shouting in the distance, Hazel’s muted voice as she clamped her hand over the mouthpiece, snapping at someone. “Hazel?”

  Lydia took a step closer, eyes curious. Frank hovered too, gawping at the both of us. Finally Hazel came back on the line.

  “There’s someone here to see her,” she said. “He says it’s important.”

  “Who says it’s important?” I asked, more demanding than warranted.

  “He says his name is Stuart Dobson. Says he’s her boyfriend. He’s pretty wound up, Mr Clarke, demands to be let through. I think I should maybe call security,” she whispered.

  “I’ll be right down,” I said. “Don’t let him up here, Hazel.”

  I hung up, and Lydia stared at me with big, demanding eyes. “What’s going on?”

  “You have a visitor in reception,” I announced, keeping my tone as deadpan as possible. “Hazel said he’s agitated, believes she should call security.”

  “Well who the flipping hell is it?” Frank pondered.

  “Stuart,” Lydia said, biting her lip. “It’s Stuart, isn’t it?”

  “That’s what Hazel said, yes.” My eyes crashed into hers, wondering what the fuck was going on. “I said I’d go down, I don’t want you down there if he’s like that, Lydia.”

  She jumped about a foot in the air, ditching her paperwork all over my pen arrangement. “No, James,” she said. “It’s fine. I’ll go, honestly. I can handle him.”

  “He’s agitated,” I snapped. “Enough that Hazel wants to call security. You don’t need to go down there, I can handle it.”

  “No!” she hissed. Frank raised his eyebrows at me, and I blanked him completely.

  “You can’t go down there, Lydia, you don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

  “That’s just the thing,” she said, eyes full of panic. “I think I do.” She was on her heels in a heartbeat, slipping out through the door. I made to follow but she raised her hand, her gesture tense. “I mean it, James, don’t follow me.”

  I sat down, heart thumping in my chest. It was Frank who made the call for me.

  “Well, I dunno about you, James, but I think we should get on down there, find out what the hell’s going on.”

  I didn’t need prompting twice.

  ***

  A crowd was already gathering by the time we arrived on the scene. The girls from admin were pretending to use the franking machine, keeping beady eyes on the action. Hazel was rooted firmly behind her desk, staring openly at the argument in front of her.

  “Not here, Stuart!” Lydia spat. “We can take this outside or you can piss off home, this is my work. You have no right to be here!”

  Frank hung back, letting me tackle the fall-out. “Are you ok, Lydia?” I asked. “What’s going on?”

  She paled on sight of me, eyes wide and skittish. “It’s fine,” she hissed. “I’m handling it.”

  I took in the figure that was Stuart Dobson. He was toned, but a little lanky, with a trendy-rockerish mop of sandy blonde hair that was far too young for his age. He was angry too, really fucking angry. I felt my hackles rise. “Stuart, right?” I said. “I’m James Clarke, Chief Technology Officer, we were in the middle of a meeting, so if you wouldn’t mind…”

  “You’re James Clarke?” he said, and there was rage in his eyes, real fucking rage.

  “Leave, James,” Lydia said. “Please, I’ve got this.”

  Stuart turned towards her, eyes wild. “That’s him is it? That’s the fucking sicko that beat the shit out of you?”

  “Fuck off, Stuart!” she screeched. “You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about! Get out!” She lunged for him, but he was stronger, twisting her arm behind her back and knocking her off balance. She toppled into him, and he held her tight, yanking up the hem of her skirt before she could even try and fight him. I heard the intake of breath from the room, watched the letters fall from Zena’s hand at the franking machine. Lydia’s thighs were streaked purple, even through her flesh-tone tights. Stuart Dobson was pissed, his nostrils flaring with rage. He spun around the room, until his eyes landed back on mine.

  “It was this sonofabitch!” he yelled. “This sick fucking sonofabitch hurt my Lydia. He beat the fucking shit out of her! Tell them, Lydia, fucking tell them what he did to you.”

  She elbowed him hard in the ribs, gasping for breath as he let her go. Her eyes were as wild as his, but wild with fear. “Leave me alone, Stuart!” she screamed. “FUCK OFF!”

  “I won’t fucking fuck off!” he boomed. “I’m not leaving you with that fucking monster! You can’t fucking love him, Lydia, not after that!” He reached out for her again, snaring her arm and dragging her towards him.

  I broke my stance, pacing out towards him. “Let her go,” I seethed. “She doesn’t want to go with you.”

  “Fuck you!” he thundered. “How fucking dare you, you piece of shit? You’re not in Brighton now, you sick motherfucker. You can’t hole her up in some hotel room for your sick little fantasies this time. I won’t fucking have it!”

  “Let her go, Stuart.” The beast flared in my veins, screaming for release. “Let Lydia go right now, or so help me God, you’ll wish you had.”

  I breathed in relief as he dropped her arm. She scuttled over, eyes wide with horror and shame.

  Stuart weighed me up for size. “You want a piece of me, hey? Want to pick on someone your own size, you sadistic piece of shit?”

  “Get out,” I hissed. “Clear the fuck out of here.”

  “Make me,” he fronted. “Come on, hard man, fucking make me!”

  Lydia’s fingers were on my arm. I brushed her away on instinct. “Please, James,” she said. “Leave it, he’s not worth it.”

  “COME ON!” Stuart goaded. “You think you’re fucking hard, do you? Lydia doesn’t even know how to fight back!”

  “Shut up!” she screeched. “Let’s go, James!”

  I shook my head. “You need to leave, Stuart, right fucking now.”

  “Make me.”

  “Call security,” Frank yelled to Hazel. “Get them up here before this gets out of hand.”

  “It’s already out of hand,” Stuart growled. “I’m gonna rip his fucking spleen out.”

  “STUART!” Lydia tried again. “Please, will you just FUCK OFF!”

  I saw his attack from a clear mile away, ducking from his path in a flash and sending him careening on past me. I caught him with his back to me, wrenched his arm up unguarded. I breathed into his ear, gripping him tight. “Move and I’ll break your fucking wrist,” I hissed. “You need to get out of here, before this gets fucking serious.”

  I shunted him through reception, while he lashed out with his feet, trying to topple me off balance. Grunting out a stream of abuse and struggling in my grip, I delivered him into the hands of oncoming security and they took him down from there. I heard him screaming all the way, screaming to anyone who’d listen that James Clarke is a fucking wife-beating monster, a sick fuck who likes to beat women, a sick fuck that beat his beautiful Lydia black and blue.

  Lydia looked at me through broken eyes, swimming in horror and disbelief. I surveyed the scene, heart ricocheting in my ribcage as history repeated itself. Nobody would look at me, not even
Frank. Not one single person would meet my eyes as the thrum of gossip danced around the crowd. I was done here.

  I stalked through them with angry paces, ignoring the pleads from Lydia at my back, ignoring everything but the soft promise of sanctuary calling from my office upstairs. She caught up with me at the top of the stairs, pulling me round to face her.

  “Please, James, don’t hate me!” she said. “Please don’t hate me! I didn’t know this would happen, I swear I didn’t know! He’s just an idiot, a stupid fucking idiot.”

  “It’s not your fault,” I said. “It’s mine. I walked straight into it, just like I did last time. Please, Lydia, leave me alone.”

  I slammed the door behind me.

  ***

  I finally let her in after lunch, staring blankly ahead while she wrung her hands in front of me.

  “Don’t do this, James, please,” she wheezed. “Don’t block me out. We can get through this, ok? I’ve told them he’s an idiot, that he’s crazy, that he’s a drugged-up fucking asshole. They don’t believe him, James, I swear! They don’t believe him!”

  “They saw the bruises, Lydia, they’ll believe him. Frank hasn’t been up here yet.” I met her eyes, flinching at the animal panic I found there. “You forget, Cat, I’ve been here before. I know the lousy fucking drill.”

  She shook her head. “No fucking way, not this time. Everyone likes you, James, nobody would ever believe him! Last time was different, I’m not Rachel, James, I don’t crave the drama. It will blow over, I swear, I’ll make it blow over.”

  I scoffed in her face. “How can you make this blow over? It’s over, Lydia, my life is fucking over. I’ll have to quit again and move on again, far fucking away from here.”

  Her lip trembled, it smacked me right in the gut. “No, James, I’ll go. You don’t need to go!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Lydia, it’s not you they’ll brand the psycho. It’s me.”

  “You aren’t a psycho, and no one here will believe it. They know you, they know us.”

  “I never made friends with them, Cat, not one of them. They don’t know me. I thought that kept me safe, but it seems not. I’ve been such a fucking idiot, walking straight into the same fucking mistake.”