by A. E. Murphy
“Turn around,” he demands, ignoring everything I said, though by the way his lips twitched I know he heard.
I do so, slowly, and when my eyes adjust to what at first they think is a deception, I feel faint.
“It’s yours.” He whispers, pressing his hands on my shoulders.
“The keyboard?” I stare at the beautiful instrument, glossy surface with perfect, untouched keys and more buttons than I’ll ever know what to do with.
“The room.” He steps around me and moves towards the mini-grand piano on a raised platform in front of a floor to ceiling window. “All of it is yours.”
I can’t believe what I’m seeing. The gorgeous, rose gold coloured piano. The music books on a low-rise bookshelf that spans the wall of the room that leads to the door. This is on the sharp corner of the building so I have a view of the Thames and some of London. The light is incredible, bouncing off the cream walls and soft grey carpets.
“I can’t accept this.” I shake my head; it makes me dizzy. “I’ll accept the keyboard because I need one and I’ll pay you back, but the rest of it… I can’t accept.”
“It’s nothing.” He tries to brush it off but that’s not going to work.
“It’s everything and I can’t accept.”
He frowns, looking equal parts annoyed, frustrated and angry. “And why not?”
“Because you told me you were a bastard and bastards don’t give people the most beautiful rooms in existence.” Then I spy something on the wall above the book case. It’s an image of me, age fourteen, my eyes closed as I rest my fingers on the keys of the piano sitting in front of me. How did he even get that image? My father took that photo without my knowledge. “I can’t take it.”
“I’ll be insulted if you don’t.”
“And I’ll like you too much if I do.”
We stand and stare at each other, my chest heaving with a rising panic attack and his calm and still.
“Play for me,” he softly asks, holding out a hand for me to take.
I move to the keyboard.
“On the piano.”
I ignore him and turn on this beautiful, extremely expensive piece of equipment. “My new portable love.” Lifting it, I test its weight and, even though it’s a big bastard, it isn’t as heavy as I’d have thought. “Where’s the bag for it?”
He points to a box on the shelves by the door. I move to it and remove the bag. It takes me a little while to figure out how to stuff it in, but I do it and without aid from Lockhart whom I demanded stay where he was. If he helps me, I’ll not learn how to do it myself.
“Let’s go,” I say, hooking my new keyboard over my shoulder. He helps me adjust the strap so it fits comfortably.
“Play for me,” he repeats. “You owe me. I sat and waited in that theatre for two hours before we were told you weren’t coming.”
I look away.
“Play for me, wild one,” he whispers and, with two fingers under my jaw, he tilts my head back. I have no choice but to stare into his beautiful eyes. I’ve never seen them this soft. “Or I’ll beat your arse so hard you’ll have to stand for a month.”
“I’m not in the mood to play.” I pull my head free. “It’s nothing personal. I just haven’t… I can’t. I’m not in the mood, okay?”
Blowing out a breath, he moves to the piano and touches the keys himself without pressing them down fully. He teases the surface of them as gently as he likes to tease the surface of my tender skin after spanking it to redness. “I thought you’d have been happy.”
I don’t respond because trying to explain how I feel right now… there just aren’t enough numbers in the alphabet to algebra the shit out of this spelling test.
“The room will still be here for you if you change your mind.”
“Thank you.” I pull open the door, relieved when he doesn’t stop me. I kind of wish he’d go psycho crazy at me so I could have a reason to hate him. “Though you couldn’t have picked a room closer to the elevators, could you?”
“And she’s back.” He sighs but I can tell he secretly loves it. When we finally reach the elevator after a mile’s walk from my new private music room, he presses the button and leans against the wall. “Keep your phone on. You’ll be meeting me later and I need to let you know when.”
Blink. “Why can’t you tell me now?”
“If I knew when I’d be finished, I’d tell you.”
That makes sense.
He continues, “I’m going to fuck you senseless, so bring a spare change of clothes.”
“You didn’t get me any clothes when you bought me an entire room?”
His grin is wicked and so fucking sexy I want to sit on it. “I daren’t give you any more gifts. Your reaction isn’t as satisfying as I’d have hoped.”
“Are you going to beat a sorry out of me?”
The doors open and I step inside, expecting him to follow. He doesn’t and I don’t get the chance or privacy to ask why because the people already in the elevator press the button and the doors close.
It isn’t until I’m home, by myself, just me and my keyboard, after a long day of recording with the boys, that I fully realise what happened. And when I see a neatly wrapped gift box on the mat in front of my door, I pray it isn’t from him too.
Why is he doing this? I know he means well, but thoughtful gifts are the worst kind of gifts to give in a relationship based solely on sex. Can’t he just fuck me and chuck me? When we finally get time to discuss our negotiations, that’s going to be on my list. I write it down so I don’t forget.
‘Don’t be nice to me! Ever! At all! My heart can’t take it!’
I’ll say it to him, the entirety of it. Well, all of it but the last bit about my heart.
The gift box turns out to be a smart watch, much like his own but smaller and narrower for my dainty wrist. Not only does it count my steps, control calls, texts and tell the time, it also, from what the handwritten note says, opens doors around Lockhart Entertainment. It doesn’t mention my room, but I know that’s what it means.
How the fuck am I going to explain it to Dane and Kai? For this reason, I decide I’m not going to wear it. Not if I can help it.
Lockhart turns up at my apartment unannounced and without the phone call he said he’d instigate. I don’t mind but I’m in the middle of exfoliating. Nothing screams sexy like a black, sticky and painful mask on my face.
He laughs of course. What normal person wouldn’t?
“Well, seeing as we can’t have sex like I planned…” He rebuttons the top button of his navy suit trousers and I realise he must have unbuttoned it before I answered in preparation of a swift entrance. Does he ever wear anything other than suits? I suppose it makes sense if he came here straight from work. “I suppose we could discuss the rules of this.” When he motions between us as I close the door behind him, I can’t hide my excitement.
“Yes!” I cry, happy that this is finally happening. “Okay, I’ll go first.”
“May I sit before you start?”
Fuck. “Sorry.” I haven’t even properly invited him in yet. “Sit. Drink?”
“Any wine that’s older than two thousand and four?”
“I have water, coke or vodka.”
“What is it with you and vodka?”
I grin and pull myself up onto the counter. “It speaks to my soul.”
Lockhart moves to the fridge and his face contorts into a mask of pure horror when he sees the very few items inside. “All you have is vodka, bottled water and a questionable looking bottle of milk.” He tips his head to double check the shelves. “You have no food.”
I shrug. “I usually just go over to Dane’s or Kai’s. I don’t like keeping food where I live. I eat it.”
“That’s kind of the point.” Sighing heavily, he closes the fridge and looks at me, shaking his head like he doesn’t know what to do with me.
“Can you pass me the note that is pinned to the fridge?”
He turns back t
o the smooth, grey door and looks at the piece of paper. “Take pill?”
I grin and hold out my hand to take it, for on the other side is my Lockhart list. “Okay. So, let’s establish the ground rules.”
He nods and leans back against the counter. “After you.”
“No more gifts. Ever.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
I shrug. “It’s a rule.”
“Why?”
“I don’t need gifts. They only complicate things.”
He opens his mouth as though wanting to argue, but relents and clenches his jaw shut. “Fine.” We stare at each other in silence but he looks away with twitching lips after a moment and I know he’s laughing at my appearance. “Any other silly limits?”
“It’s not a silly limit,” I respond indignantly. “If you want this as a fuck and chuck type of thing, this needs to remain as impersonal as possible.” He doesn’t say anything so I continue. “No sleepovers.”
“You’re kidding?” He breathes and runs both hands through his hair, pushing it back from his handsome face.
“I’m as serious as the mask on my face.”
“You’re going to have to elaborate on no sleepovers.”
I hop down and check the black mask in the mirror. It isn’t quite dry but it will be soon. I’m not looking forward to when it is. He can’t be present for that. I’ll wear the beauty mask in front of him but there are some things that should be kept secret when having explosive sex. Opening pores is definitely on the list of things that shouldn’t be seen.
“No spooning, sleeping or staying overnight.”
“That’s stupid.”
“That’s my second rule.”
“You have more?” He looks affronted and I don’t blame him, but this is new to me. He has to help me out here.
“No unprotected sex with anybody else. I don’t want any nasties crawling their way up my vajayjay because you don’t have self-control or self-respect.”
He pulls me into him, hands on my jeans. “Well that goes without saying.”
I pull away, batting at his wandering hands. “I just can’t feel sexy while I have a melted binbag on my face.”
Chuckling, he moves to the microwave and takes the small picture from the top. “That rule applies to you too.” I’m assuming he’s talking about the no sex rule. “If I find out you’ve been sharing your body with anybody else without my permission, this will be over faster than it started.” Without his permission?
“Aye aye, captain.” I take the photo of me and my dad from him and place it back on the microwave. He doesn’t need to be looking at my personal things. “Anything else?”
“I’ll agree to give you no gifts.” I’m relieved to hear this. He continues, “But if I get a taste for something particular, I’ll expect you to allow me to pay for it.”
“If it’s to do with fucking, I’ll accept.” I nod.
“Good.”
I bite my lip before throwing into the mix, “And don’t be too nice to me.”
“Too nice? Now you’re definitely being ridiculous.”
“Just try to keep this as impersonal as possible when we’re not actually having sex, okay?”
He throws up his hands and blows out a breath. “Fine. But you have to promise me an openness to try new things.”
“Done.” I grin, or try to; the black mask makes facial expressions impossible. “I love trying new things but you can’t force me into things I’m not comfortable with.”
“I’ll always respect you and your decisions.”
“Good. Then you need to leave while I pamper.” I point to the door, ignoring the shock on his face. “We aren’t having sex or discussing work, sooo…”
He raises a brow at me and smirks. “We could be having sex.”
“Yes, because right now I’m just so super sexy.”
“You live and breathe sarcasm, don’t you?”
“As often as you live and breathe defiance.”
Laughing through his teeth, he spins my back to his chest and nips at my neck. It tingles so badly I’m torn between moaning with pleasure and jerking violently with laughter. “You’re something else.”
“And you seriously need to leave so that I can pamper myself.”
“Fine, but I’ll be back in an hour or so. Ready that beautiful body for me.”
“Can do.”
I follow him to the door and lean against the doorframe. He kisses my neck since my cheek is currently occupied.
“You can’t do things like that either,” I snap playfully. “You told me you were a bastard. Start acting like one.”
“Oh, I will.” He grins and the look in his eyes tells me that. “I’m just getting warmed up.”
I do what he says, after peeling the extremely painful mask from my face with a lot of tears and curse words. I have a bath, exfoliating, and shaving every single inch of my flesh, making sure to moisturise when dry and remain naked so as to keep the breeze flowing. It feels nice.
But unfortunately, one hour turns into two and I give up waiting and text him instead.
Cerise: Remember me? The girl you left horny and wanting? The name’s Cerise. Ring a bell?
He doesn’t respond, not for another three long, torturous hours of sexual frustration.
Lockhart: I told you I was a bastard.
I’m guessing that means he isn’t coming.
Lockhart: There’s a reason I choose to be single. Let’s make this another rule. No headaches. Let’s keep this friendly. We’re both busy people. Things come up.
Is he kidding? So I’m just expected to be okay with the fact he doesn’t turn up without warning?
Cerise: There’s getting distracted and having to cancel and then there’s just being a total cunt. You, sir, are the latter. Goodnight.
Rule broken and it isn’t even the end of day one yet. He can’t expect to play with wild and get tame. That’s not how I roll. I’ll do my best to be respectful of his rules, but if he’s going to fuck me around like that then he’d better expect me to say something. I don’t hold back.
He doesn’t respond.
Well… that went well. And to think I spent an entire hour pampering myself for him. If he hadn’t shown up and promised me exciting orgasms, I wouldn’t have taken as much time and care as I did. What a waste.
Lockhart: I’m on my way.
Cerise: It’s too late. I’m tired.
Lockhart: Another rule. If I know you aren’t working, you’re always available.
Cerise: That’s entirely unfair when you leave me hanging for hours without a call.
I rush around, cleaning up the mess I made with a box of Pringles. Brushing my teeth, I wrestle on my pyjamas which consist of a long, old gig T-shirt and a pair of lady boxers. When coming on this expedition to London, I didn’t pack a case full of sexy underwear. The majority of my things aren’t exactly what I’d call seductive.
He must have already been on his way when he texted me about us being busy people and no headaches because it hasn’t been ten minutes since his last message when there’s a loud thud against my door.
Tucking my dark, damp hair behind my ears, I pad to the door and yank it open.
“Let’s begin,” he says darkly and before I’m twisted, my arm up my back, I see a flash of silver chain link as he reaches for me. A leather cuff is wrapped around the arm that is pushed up my spine to an almost uncomfortable position. My free hand flattens against the cold wall which I’m pushed into.
“What are you doing?” I snap, not relishing the thought of being restrained.
“Another rule. Complete trust.”
I try to turn towards him but he keeps me pinned by the door. “I hardly know you. How can I trust you?”
“Fine.” He bites the lobe of my ear, causing equal amounts of pain and pleasure. My other arm is twisted to the base of my spine to be cuffed to the other. “Then no complaining until you trust me.”
“But…”
“I a
m so glad I brought this.” He cuts me off and, using his chest, pins me between himself and the wall as he removes something from his jacket pocket.
“Brought what?” I ask, panting and feigning ignorance when he grinds his already swollen cock against my arse.
“This.” I’m forced to open my mouth when he brings a strap of leather with some kind of cylinder insert over my head and presses it against my lips.
“You have got to be kidding me.” I speak around the soft object in my mouth, but it comes out as, “Ooh, ahh, ohh, oooh, ee, iiihh iih, ee.”
“Much better.” He grins and turns me abruptly. Kissing my parted lips, he sinks two fingers into me and kicks my legs apart. I’m incapacitated. I can’t use my arms, my words. I’ve never felt so vulnerable. How will he know if he hurts me? How will he know when I want to stop?
When he drops to his knees, tears my Pokémon lady boxers in half and presses his mouth to my mound, I don’t care about anything but wrapping my legs around his head.
“Ooooo ohhhh!” I cry, my eyes rolling back in my head, and he lifts my leg over his shoulder. My womb tingles, and my clit throbs and swells as he torments it with a powerful tongue and gentle teeth. His lips move against me in perfect synchrony with his tongue and fingers.
My body begins to shake and tremble so violently Lockhart stands abruptly, pushing his shoulder into my stomach as he goes. Being tossed over a shoulder isn’t as comfortable as it looks on TV. In fact it knocks the wind right out of me. Lockhart gives me no time to recover when he drops me on the bed and drags my hips to the edge.
I clench my eyes shut and arch my back. The need to grasp his hair and bury his face deeper between my thighs forces my arms to struggle against their confines.
“Ooo ARR!” I try to call his name as he forces my legs open even wider.
I have never, ever been so amazingly dined on. Christ… the last guy who went down on me lasted half a minute before he got bored and I considered him to be a fucking legend. Lockhart isn’t just a legend. He’s my hero. My saviour. I never want sex again. I just want this for the rest of my life. All day every day.
“Not yet, wild one.” He pulls away, just as the cusp of my orgasm begins to stir.