Trust Me (Beggar's Choice #2)

by Lily Morton

  We spend nearly every spare hour together roaming each new city, stopping only to eat and drink in little out of the way bars with the boys, and our nights are always spent together. I’m always in his room now which everyone seems to accept, but he still insists on booking me a room of my own because he doesn’t want me to ever feel that I have to be with him. According to him it’s my choice, although why I’d want to miss out on sleeping with him I don’t know.

  We’ve made love everywhere that I could possibly think of and some places that would never have occurred to me, and it gets better every time, maybe because his barriers seem to have come down around me. He seems to feel a need to touch me all the time, from a simple guiding, caressing hand on my back as we walk, to outright cuddling, and every time he does it he seems to get a basic joy from it.

  However, it’s at night that I feel closest to him, when we lie entwined together and I lie awake relishing the feel of his sleek skin and hard muscles lax in sleep against me and feel his steady, warm breaths hitting my skin. He tells me that he has always had trouble sleeping as have I over the last three years, but we sleep easily together, almost as if all we needed was to finally find a safe harbour with someone.

  He’s also more quietly confident in himself than he ever has been and his music is flowing again. He fills exercise books with endless words, and the bus is often filled with music and curses as the boys plough energy into what is obviously going to be their next album. I usually sit on the sofa reading on my Kindle while they lie on the floor like teenagers surrounded by a sea of paper. Occasionally I’ll help out, usually if the lyrics need something but only if asked, because this isn’t my band and I’ve told Sid that I’ve no wish to be Linda McCartney in this scenario. He got the allusion instantly but Bram had been confused, asking how somebody that made veggie burgers could possibly have anything to do with music.

  As for me I feel alive, almost as if I have Red Bull in my veins instead of blood. Every moment I spend with him makes me fall more in love with him. For the first time in my life I feel like I truly love someone, and every feeling that I had before for other men seems pale and lacklustre compared to the warm, vital feelings that burn inside me for him. I love everything about him even his bad moods, and I feel incredibly protective of this tortured yet inherently good man. I want life to run smoothly for him now. I want him to smile at life rather than be braced against it waiting for the next blow that it can deal him.

  As such, just as he’s dedicated the last few weeks to extending my sexual education, I’ve also tried to educate him in the joys that are to be had around him. I made him get up at dawn to watch the sunrise over the Vatican and hear the bells ring out for mass, which he grumbled about and got his own back by fucking me in a tiny, dark side street near the Piazza di Trevi. I’ve made him watch classic girlie movies which he inevitably falls asleep during, apart from when he discovered an unknown fondness for the screwball comedies of the 1940’s, particularly ‘His Girl Friday’.

  However, tonight we’re in more of a rock star territory, standing in the sumptuous surroundings of a record company executive’s flat in Copenhagen. We’ve been invited to a party held in honour of the band, and it’s wall to wall beautiful women who look emaciated enough to be mostly models. They’re drifting about fluffing their hair, licking their lips and shooting subtle and not so subtle come hither looks at the boys. It’s like being in the middle of Robbie Williams’ ‘Rock DJ’ video now that I come to think of it, and I watch as one particularly stunning blonde slides up to us pushing her tiny boobs out and staring at Sid. “Hello,” she says in a sultry Danish accent. “You’re Sid Hudson aren’t you? I love your music.” I’d bristle more than I do, but I know what’s coming and I can hardly keep my laughter in as he heaves a reluctant sigh and utters the immortal words.

  “I’m too sexy for my hat. Too sexy for my hat. What do you think about that?”

  At her look of utter bemusement I can’t hold it in any longer and I burst out laughing along with the other boys. I know it’s rude but let’s face it she just made advances towards a man who has his arm slung around me, so I’m sure that she can deal with a little social awkwardness. Ignoring her affronted exit Sid nuzzles my hair affectionately and tightens his arm under my breasts lightly brushing my nipples, making me gasp and him chuckle. “How long have we got to keep this shit up for?” he grouses at Mick. “Half the people here think that we’ve gone mad.”

  Mick rubs his hands together gleefully. “For the whole party Sidney, you know the rules.”

  “It’s just the fucking stupid song. It’s embarrassing.”

  “Well if you want someone to blame for that, look no further than your woman, my son. I merely issued you the challenge of going through the party only speaking lines from a song, with the loser being the one that gives the game away. It’s not my fault that Nelly here picked the cultural classic that is Right Said Fred’s ‘I’m Too Sexy’. I personally would have picked something with insightful, thoughtful lyrics that would have made you losers sound intelligent. Something by Coldplay that would make you sound like you’ve got the cure for world peace while remaining sexy.” The boys stare at him and he shrugs. “What? I like them. I’m not ashamed of thinking Chris Martin is a god amongst men.” An extraordinarily beautiful woman wanders up to us and blatantly rubs her breasts against Bram’s arm and whispers in his ear. Bram looks imploringly at Mick who shrugs. “Not my rules mate.”

  Bram sighs tragically, and then reluctantly, with a killing glance at Mick, mutters something under his breath. “I’m sorry,” the woman says. “I didn’t catch what you said.”

  Giving in Bram says clearly, “I’m a model you know what I mean and I do my little turn on the catwalk. Yeah I shake my little tush on the catwalk.” Unfortunately it falls loudly into one of those sudden, quiet moments and everyone in the vicinity stares at him until his cheeks actually redden.

  “Wow Bram.” I reach up and touch one. “You’re red hot sweetheart. Are you coming down with something?”

  “No,” he says through clenched teeth and looks imploringly at Sid to get me under control.

  “Are you sure? It’s not your little problem flaring up again is it?” The beautiful woman is obviously regretting her move, and when she hears this she utters a huff of disgust and stalks off followed by a roar of laughter from Charlie.

  “You can laugh,” Bram says crossly. “This is my sexual legacy that you people are tampering with. In years to come she should have been able to look back on memories of a night with a sexual beast in his prime.” I laugh and he turns to me. “You’re a fucking witch,” he adds indignantly but without any real heat. “I’m going to get you back for that.”

  “Bring it on Donkey Kong.” I make a matrix finger gesture at him.

  Sid snorts. “Don’t Keanu him sweetheart. It makes him uncomfortable because of his little man crush.”

  “Keanu is awesome,” Bram argues. “Have you seen ‘Point Break’? Don’t diss the Reeves. I’m secure enough in my masculinity to admit that I love him.” Another lamb to the slaughter wanders over to interrupt this diatribe, but it’s obvious that Bram’s had enough now. “I concede,” he says quickly to Mick who proceeds to pull his jumper over his head and wander around singing ‘We are the Champions’.

  I watch him, laughing to myself, and then sigh as Sid twines himself around me like ivy. He’s resting his hands dangerously close to my nipples again which are now so big they might actually be able to stand up by themselves and take drink orders if he carries on.

  “How long have we got to stay here?” he asks sulkily.

  I laugh. “We’ve not been here an hour yet.”

  “An hour’s too long without fucking you,” he says in a way too loud voice and I can feel myself blush.

  “Sid!” I chide.

  “What? It’s the truth. They’d all think the same if they knew how tight and wet your …”

  I twist and clap my hand over his mouth
as Charlie roars with laughter, looking at us both with blatant affection. “You alright there Sergeant Serious? I think your stoical demeanour’s cracking.”

  “Fuck off,” Sid says peaceably to his brother before burying his head in my neck and grabbing my bum which brings me into close contact with the impressive beginnings of an erection.

  “What has got into you?” I ask quite shocked.

  Charlie’s, “About ten bottles of Budweiser,” coincides with Sid growling, “It’s what’s getting into you that you should be bothered about woman,” which makes Charlie laugh even harder.

  “Oh my God,” he says. “Hello stranger. I haven’t seen you like this in forever mate.”

  Sid smiles a slightly skewed smile, his eyes crossing slightly. “Haven’t felt I should before,” he says. “Now I feel fine though.”

  “At the moment,” I interject. “You won’t tomorrow buddy.”

  “Oh you’ll look after me,” he slurs, cuddling into me and making my heart hurt because it’s so full. “You always look after me.”

  “I do?” I scratch his scalp with my nails, making him growl slightly like a big wolf who’s come over for some affection.

  Charlie’s gaze softens as he looks at his brother. “Good,” he says softly. “That’s good, right mate?”

  Sid squints at him but an involved discussion is obviously beyond him. “Let’s go back to the hotel and then it’s straight to bed for you young lady,” he commands, taking my hand and beginning to pull me to the door. I wave goodbye to the boys but the record company executive heads us off before we get to the door, coming towards us with his arms outstretched. “No, no thank you.” Sid is obviously alarmed at our progress being halted, and puts up his hand towards the man. “Thanks for everything. I’m too sexy for my cat, poor pussy, poor pussy cat.”

  Obviously confused the man pauses, giving Sid the opportunity to whisk us out of the room. My last glance is of Charlie laughing hysterically while Seth films us on his phone.

  We make it back to the hotel without him having sex with me on the backseat of the taxi, although it’s a close run thing. I must say an outrageous alter ego escapes when this man is drunk. Normally he’d rather die than have another man see me, and he’s extremely possessive to the extent that he punched a man that jumped on stage in Madrid and tried to kiss me. Tonight however, he quite happily tried to take my knickers off in a taxi.

  We make our way through the foyer, or to be more precise Sid tows me through it, ignoring all the calls of his name by groupies seated waiting for the band. Once we’re in the lift though to my surprise he separates himself from me, leaning against the opposite wall of the lift. He stares at me for a second rubbing his fingers over his lips meditatively. All traces of the good humoured drunk are gone. Instead he looks devilish and just like that the atmosphere charges and I feel the familiar heat rising between us. The one where a marching band could walk through and we’d pay them no attention.

  We stare at each other for a second, and then he reaches out and presses a button and the lift grinds to a stop leaving us in a charged silence broken only by the harsh rasp of our breathing, and then he lowers his hand and grins. “Take your knickers off,” he says in a clear, firm voice.

  “What? Here?”

  “You heard me Nell. Take your knickers off.”

  Staring at him for a second I wait for him to make a joke but he just looks at me expectantly, and feeling suddenly unbearably turned on I do as he says, wriggling out of them quickly and throwing them to him when he makes a gimme gesture. Catching them neatly he looks at me and then deliberately raises them to his face and inhales deeply. “Fuck!” he groans. “They’re so wet love. I can smell you all over them.” Slowly he lowers his hand and stares at me, his eyes so dilated now there’s hardly any blue. “Lift your skirt.” His voice is a guttural rasp and I gulp looking around the lift anxiously. “There’s no cameras in here Nell,” he says harshly. “Do you honestly think that I’d take the chance of you ending up on film for some fucking security guard to wank off to?” His nostrils flare at the thought. “You belong to me Nell and that sight of you when you’re wet and wanting, well that’s just for my eyes and I’d kill anyone who saw you like that. Do you understand me?” I nod slowly and he gestures bossily which would make me smile if I wasn’t so insanely turned on. “Well? I’m waiting, so let’s see that tight, little pussy of yours.”

  Leaning against the wall and taunting him with my smirk I slowly raise my skirt, shivering slightly because his gaze is like a brand on my skin.

  “Fuck Nell,” he groans. “Look how turned on you are sweetheart. You’re dripping down your legs.”

  I blush slightly but it’s true. I can feel the moisture. “Touch me,” I moan, all inhibitions gone now because I trust him. He’s right and I know that he’d never let anyone see me so vulnerable.

  “I don’t think so,” he says smoothly and my eyes fly open and he grins twistedly. “I think I’d rather see you touch yourself love.”

  “Here?” I whisper and his eyes darken even more.

  “Yes here. Open your fucking legs Nell and let me see you touch that pretty pussy of yours. I want to see what you do when I’m not here to satisfy you.”

  Gazing into his eyes I moan at the heat that I can see there and I know that I’m going to rise to the challenge and give him a show that he won’t forget. Lifting my hand up I suck gently on my fingers and he groans. “Yes, get them wet honey. Now touch yourself.”

  I lower my fingers, tracing them over my breasts slowly, feeling my nipples tightening as the material of my blouse catches on them. I brush my fingers back and forth moaning and I hear him gasp, and then I slowly lower my hands to my pussy and using my fingers I cant my hips and spread my lips open. “Yes,” he gasps frantically. “You’re so wet baby, touch yourself.”

  Still looking at him I reach lower and dip my fingers into the wetness there, groaning at the feeling, and then I trace back finding the nub of my clit standing erect. I centre my fingers there starting up a fast motion over it and Sid stares at me fascinated. “Rub harder,” he commands and I gasp, staring at him and the massive erection tenting his jeans.

  “You as well,” I moan out and he smiles darkly.

  “Oh, yes love. I’m going to jack off and you’re going to watch me and then I’m going to come all over you.” I moan at this erotic thought and he curses suddenly, jerking down his jeans, and drawing out his long, thick cock. He licks his hand, his tongue obscenely pink, and then lowering the hand still clutching my knickers he draws it down himself once, twice, before settling into a sharp rhythm. He barks out my name and when I stare at him he jerks his head towards my pussy. “Keep going,” he commands and I obey.

  A part of me is watching from the side lines in amazement at this stranger who touches herself frantically, petting her clit while she watches her lover shuttling his hand hard over his cock, rubbing over the top and twisting the mushroomed dome so that drops of creamy come leak out. He groans and reaches down to tug at his balls and suddenly the knowledge of how we look in this most public of places, lewd and free, brings me back to myself and I cry out loudly, coming so hard and forcefully I can’t help myself and I sag against the wall groaning and feeling the throbbing of my pussy as I watch him.

  He’s staring at me one end of his lip curling up almost in a sneer, and his motions are becoming choppy and erratic. “Yes watch me Nell,” he groans in a harsh whisper. “See what you’ve done. Just looking at you …” He stops and moans throwing his head back, and as if the spell is broken by the loss of eye contact I stumble towards him and drop to my knees ripping open my top and exposing my bare breasts.

  “On me,” I moan, my eyes focused only on the movements of his hand and the length of his cock gleaming wetly in the low light.

  He shouts out loud. “Yes Nell fuck,” and then he’s coming, warm spurts of semen hitting my breasts in rapid pulsations. It seems to go on forever but not long enough, and when he�
�s finished we stay still, our gazes locked and our chests rising and falling as we suck in breath, until finally he slumps down next to me and whipping his top off he rubs it over my breasts cleaning them gently.

  Finished, he throws his arms around me and we rest there for a second and despite the dangerously public nature of what we’ve just done I’ve never felt so safe with anyone. He suddenly lets out a short, almost astonished laugh and drags my face up to look at him. “You okay?” he asks quietly.

  “I’m fine.”

  He laughs in relief. “Fuck, I don’t know what got into me tonight but I swear Nell, no one but me is ever going to see that. There’s no cameras of any kind in this lift.”

  “How do you know? You only took a cursory look,” I ask idly and then stare at him as he blushes.

  “I might have looked earlier,” he says shamefacedly and at my interrogatory look he sighs. “Okay I might have asked the receptionist as well.”

  I burst out laughing. “So not so much of the drunken exhibitionism then? I thought I’d found a new kink in you.”

  He looks at me earnestly. “I won’t deny that I’ve fucked women in front of the boys and other people before,” he says slowly and I nod at him to carry on. “But that’s never going to happen with you Nell. No matter how drunk I am and really I was only merry tonight, your safety and comfort come first. I’m never going to put you in a situation where another man can look at you.” He bares his teeth slightly and his grip tightens. “Fuck, just the thought of that makes me feel a bit murderous.”

  I stare at him for what seems like ages and he opens his mouth to say who knows what but at that point with the worst timing known to man, a voice comes over the intercom.

  “You have a little problem Sir?”

  We stare at each other and then instantaneously break into laughter. “No we’re fine mate,” Sid says finally, rising and stabbing the button. Standing together we help each other get dressed quickly, Sid making me stand in front of him to hide the stains on his t-shirt. We brush fingers through each other’s hair and check our appearances and Sid groans. “I’m knackered now,” he admits. “I think you’re actually going to have to help me to the room.”