No, I feel like eating her alive, consuming her. I feel like going on my knees and fucking feasting on her pussy for days. I feel like never letting anyone else have her. I feel like keeping her forever. I feel like she is mine. And yet of all the women I have been with she is the least mine. In fact, she belongs to someone else. Fucking Lenny.
It is a kind of frustration that makes me bite her breast. She gasps. I lift my head.
‘Why did you do that?’
‘Did you not like it?’
‘I don’t know.’
I take the nipple back into my mouth and suck hard enough to cause her pain. She makes a small cry.
I lift my head. ‘Do you want me to stop?’
‘No,’ she whispers, her eyes wide and dilated.
I take her other nipple in my mouth and suck it gently. After pain, pleasure. She moans. I turn her around so she is facing the tiled wall. Very firmly I tilt her hips upwards. Then I get on my haunches. I turn her body to watch me. I grab the flesh of her cheeks and blow on her sex. She shivers with anticipation. I bury my face between her cheeks and … I feast. This time I can’t help it. I suck, I lick, and I bite the plump flesh. Even her pitiful whimpers don’t stop me. I ravish her like I have never ravished another. I suck until she shudders in ecstasy.
My cock is hot and hungry. I feel the blood surging urgently through it.
I pull her out of the shower and position her in front of the sink.
‘I want you to watch me fuck you in the mirror. Hands on the sink, legs spread, ass sticking out,’ I tell her as I open a drawer and take out a condom. While she stands gripping the sink hard, legs apart, and pushing her cute little ass as high as it will go, I open a drawer and find a bit of rubber.
‘Play with your clit,’ I tell her.
She takes her right hand off the sink and starts moving it in circles. Her back arches even more causing her ass to go higher and her whole sweet pussy to hang between her legs. My favorite pose for a woman.
Perfect. Just fucking perfect.
I grab her hips and slide into her. I slide so far in her eyes widen in the mirror. I fuck her hard from the back, our wet bodies slapping, our eyes locked on each other in the mirror. The sound of the two of us echoes through the bathroom like an erotic sexual symphony. Our wet flesh slapping, the sink creaking, her groans, my grunts and finally her strange animal-like cry as she comes hard on my dick. Whoa. There’s no holding back after that. I explode deep inside her. I don’t immediately slide out of her, I stroke her hair and, pushing it away from the back of her neck, kiss it.
I look up and her eyes are sparkling, her cheeks flushed, her mouth slightly open and panting. ‘Another last one for the road?’ I ask, hopefully.
And she giggles like a fucking kid.
SNOW
Lunch is served outside. There is the scent of citrus in the gentle summer breeze. We have pan-fried duck confit served with potatoes roasted in duck fat and bowls of tomato salad. The duck is extraordinarily succulent and tasty. Shane tells me the preparation of the meat takes Madam up to thirty-six hours.
Afterwards, Madam serves me chocolate soufflé with a cherry on top of it and brings a cheese board for Shane. I break through the chocolate crust and spoon the soft creamy chocolate filling into my mouth.
‘Mmmm … very, very delicious. Want to taste?’ I ask.
He moves his face closer. The crisp male cologne on his skin mingles with the scent of the dark chocolate and makes me feel almost drunk. Swallowing hard, I feed him a spoonful. He catches my wrist, chews, and swallows. He bends and slides his tongue along my collarbone. My eyes widen.
His bright eyes flash. ‘You’re right, very, very delicious,’ he murmurs.
And though he has done all kinds of things to me and we are lovers, heat rushes up my neck.
And those sinful, sinful lips that have been on every inch of my body, twist with amusement. ‘You’re blushing.’
To my horror I flush even more.
He chuckles. ‘Do you know you blushed through our entire first time?’
‘How could you tell? We did it in the pitch dark,’ I retort.
‘Snow,’ he says caressing my name like a kiss. ‘You were at least two shades darker.’
‘And you … you … panted through our entire first time,’ I lie.
‘Sometimes you make me feel so cheap,’ he says with a sexy grin.
‘I doubt any woman could make you feel cheap,’ I reply.
He moves closer to me and for a heart stopping moment he hovers over my mouth. A pulse throbs at his throat and sexual energy glimmers off him like a heatwave. His fingers seek the hem of my skirt and push it upwards.
‘You are a strange combination, Snow. Enormous, butter-wouldn’t-melt eyes and a slutty mouth built for suckin’ cock,’ he says, lust thickening his voice. ‘All I want to do is fuck you all the fucking time.’
And to my shock I actually feel like standing up, wrapping my thighs around his hips and impaling myself on his big, hard cock. Wet lust quickly flowers between my legs at the thought.
But he pulls away from me with a frown. ‘What do you want to do this afternoon, Snow? Go back into town? I could take you around the sights if you want. Or take you shopping.’
There is so little time left of our weekend together. I may never see him again. I don’t want to waste these last few hours in town and certainly not shopping. ‘I want to stay here. I want to swim with you, and then … I want to end up in your bed.’
His strong hand reaches down and curls around my wrist and he pulls me up. We run up the grand curving staircase up to his bedroom where he flings me on his bed, rips off my clothes, and thrusts into me urgently, as if he can’t wait another second.
‘Your pussy fits around my dick like a fucking glove,’ he growls.
He does not stop all afternoon until sweat runs down his curving muscles and I am so exhausted and sore I have to beg him to stop.
Eighteen
SNOW
We arrive in London at ten past nine and clear Customs as simply and easily as we had in France. We reach the car park quickly and come to a stop in front of a muscular red Camarro with white racing stripes on the bonnet. I know hardly anything about cars, but this one is one of those fire-breathers specially built for dangerous speeds.
‘Is this your car?’ I ask incredulously.
‘If it’s not, then we’re about to become car thieves,’ he says, holding open the passenger door for me.
‘Very impressive,’ I say, sliding into its plush black leather interior.
‘She’s a babe,’ he says closing my door.
Shane is very quiet in the car on the way to my house and in the tense silence I start to feel a knot of apprehension in my belly. All this while, seduced by the magic of Saumur, I had let myself totally forget Lenny, but now I am afraid that even though Shane said he had arranged it that Lenny will not call during the weekend, what if he did? I hate the thought of having to tell a whole pile of lies. But more than any of that is the sinking feeling that France was just a dream. It’s over.
This is reality. This is real life.
But I simply don’t want to go back to how it was before. I don’t want to feel Lenny’s body on top of me, using me to relieve his sexual urges. I feel sick even thinking about it. I am not the woman who left for Saumur. I’ve changed, and significantly.
We reach my apartment and I look down at my hands clenched hard in my lap. The silence is unbearable and I am dying to ask him if I will see him again, but what if this is it? If this is all our liaison is supposed to be?
‘You can turn on your phone now,’ he says, his voice empty and hard in silence.
I nod and look at him.
He seems so distant. Is he eager to get rid of me? Could it be that this was all an elaborate ploy just to sleep with me? Surely someone who looks like he does, doesn’t need to go to these unnecessary lengths. And yet he is so cold and unreachable it is as if he can’t wait to get ri
d of me. I feel tears start pricking the back of my eyes. I won’t cry in front of him again. I always knew he was conquering the world one pussy at a time so I shouldn’t be so hurt and I’m not so broken that I don’t have my pride still.
‘OK, thanks,’ I say quickly and reach for the door handle.
His large hand curls round my arm. I turn to look at him and he says, ‘Oh Fuck.’ And pulls me into his arm. ‘Don’t cry, Snow. Just go back to your apartment and he’ll call in the next thirty minutes. Just be normal and all will be well.’
I look up at him with confused eyes. ‘How do you know when he will call?’
He runs an agitated hand through his hair. ‘Because I arranged for two prostitutes to keep him busy until you were safely home.’
My mouth drops open. ‘You did what?’
‘It was the only way I could be sure he would not call while you were away. It was the only way I knew to keep you safe.’
I take a deep breath. ‘You did that for me?’
He turns away from me and, staring ahead, grips the steering wheel. ‘It’s no big deal, Snow. Just go. And answer his damn call and … be as normal as you can, OK?’
‘OK,’ I whisper and, getting out, I slam the door closed and run into my apartment building without ever looking back. As I get through my front door I hear his car blast away, the tires screeching madly around the corner.
SHANE
I take my foot off the gas as I come up to the next red light. Fuck. My fingers drum on the dashboard. I rest my elbow on the window of my car and squeeze my temples. I always knew she was something special. I turn my eyes and catch the gaze of a man in a seven series BMW. He shakes his head with distaste because I am unconsciously revving my thunderous V8 engine impatiently and it is annoying him.
‘What the fuck are you looking at?’ I snarl, and the little coward immediately stares straight ahead.
The light turns yellow and I hammer the gas pedal and fly off the mark. Up ahead I see a U-turn sign. I could take it. But that would be madness. Gritting my teeth I keep my foot on the accelerator. I pass it. I can’t believe how angry and resentful I feel. Soon I hit the motorway. For twenty minutes I drive. I know he will have called by now.
I hit the music and Lana Del Ray’s Summertime Sadness comes on.
My car eats up the miles and in my head I see only the expression on her face when I left her. I have just given her back to him. What the hell was I fucking thinking of? I feel bitter, as if I have been cheated. What I really want to do is drive back to her place right now and take back what is mine. Fuck the consequences. But a sane inner voice stops me. It is you who made these arrangements. This is the safe way. This way you get the girl and keep Lenny off both your backs.
My mind turns to her in the forest.
How sweetly she gave herself to me. I could have done anything to her and she would have let me. And the way she had looked at me with those big, green eyes full of trust and innocence when I took her little ass and made it mine. And then I think of that ugly fuck, Lenny, touching her. And I feel fire burn in my belly.
Fuck it.
I’m not fucking giving her up to him. Not even for one day. Fuck the safe way. Change of plan, asshole. She’s mine. She was mine from the moment I laid eyes on her.
SNOW
I close the door and the house is as silent as tomb. I take my little suitcase into my bedroom. The flowers I bought on Wednesday are dead. I put the suitcase on the bed and go back out to the living room. I sit on the sofa and put my mobile phone beside me and wait.
When the phone rings I jump. I take a deep breath and wait for the third ring before I pick it up.
‘Hello.’ He sounds like he is drunk or high. I’ve seen him take cocaine from the dining room table before. He’s even offered it to me, but I didn’t want to and he said, ‘You’re right. Maybe you shouldn’t. Your head’s fucked enough as it is.’
‘Hello,’ I say. My voice is beautifully normal. It appears I am just as capable of deceit as Lenny is. Still, Lenny never promised me fidelity. That was never in the cards.
‘How are you, luv?’
For some reason that endearment grates on my nerves. I’m not his luv and I never will be. ‘I’m fine,’ I reply.
‘Good. I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Don’t forget I’m taking my girl out to a fancy restaurant tomorrow night.’
I feel a stab in my chest. I’m not his girl. He’s been with two prostitutes. Not that I care or ever cared. I just don’t want to sleep with him anymore. I don’t want to go out with him. I don’t want him to touch me. Ever again. I hear myself say, ‘OK.’
‘Right, I’ll call you when I touch down. Goodnight, Snow.’
‘Goodnight, Lenny.’
I kill the call and lay the phone down on the table. Tomorrow night looms on the horizon. What on earth am I going to do? Oh God! I cover my face with my hands. What a mess.
My phone rings again making me jump. I pick it up and look at the screen.
Number withheld.
My heart starts beating fast in my chest. I accept the call.
‘Hello,’ I say cautiously.
‘Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?’
My heart soars with joy. He called. He called. It isn’t over. Then reality hits. My heart sinks like a heavy stone inside my body. ‘I can’t go. I’ve already agreed to meet Lenny for dinner.’
‘Yeah? Well, poor old Lenny won’t be able to make it for dinner with you tomorrow. He will be otherwise tied up.’
I feel a wild rush of joy flash through every cell and nerve in my body. It comes out as a mad giggle even as I wonder what exactly he means by tied up. More prostitutes? More business deals that Lenny simply can’t say no to?
‘Snow,’ he calls softly.
‘Yes,’ I whisper, gripping the phone hard.
For a few seconds he is quiet. ‘Wear something pretty tomorrow.’
‘I will,’ I say, and I am smiling from ear to ear.
‘Goodnight, Snow.’
‘Goodnight, Shane.’
Oh my God. We’re having dinner tomorrow.
I place the phone on the table and, jumping up to my feet, do a totally mad dance around the coffee table.
‘Yes. Yes. Yes.’
It seemed as if he couldn’t wait for me to get out of his car so I thought he didn’t want me anymore. But he does want me.
I stop suddenly. And what of the next day? What will I tell Lenny when he wants to have dinner with me on Tuesday? Or Wednesday? How long can Shane keep him busy? How will I escape from Lenny?
Monday passes with interminable slowness. Lenny gets into Heathrow at nearly midday and calls me from the back of his car. He sounds upbeat, but ends the phone call by saying that something has come up and he won’t be able to make dinner today.
‘That’s OK,’ I say quickly. ‘I need an early night anyway.’
‘Why?’ he asks immediately, his voice suddenly different.
But I am a better liar than I could ever have imagined. ‘I didn’t sleep very well last night.’
‘Nightmares?’ he asks quietly.
And instantly I feel like a bitch. What I am doing is so wrong. I am cheating on someone who has only ever been good to me. I have to do something about my situation, and fast. I close my eyes and, taking a deep breath, I lie. ‘No, not nightmares. I think I ate something that didn’t agree with me. I kept going to the toilet.’
‘Ah well, in that case it’s for the best that we are not doing dinner today. Rain check for tomorrow?’
‘Tomorrow,’ I repeat softly, guiltily.
Nineteen
SNOW
More than an hour before Shane is due to pick me up I start panicking. I don’t know why I am more nervous today than I was even when he was taking me away to France. Then I had no expectations. Now my feelings are involved. I really, really like Shane.
I practically pull nearly all my clothes out of my wardrobe, and still feel that nothing I have
is suitable for tonight. Everything is either too short, too long, too tight or just too meh. I want to look perfect for Shane.
A bath, I think. A bath always calms me right down. I chuck a soap bomb into the water and wait for it to fizzle out before I pour a good one fifth of a bottle of oil into it. I lie in it and take deep calming breaths, but even that doesn’t relax me. The turmoil is inside my tummy.
Impatiently, I wash my hair and get out of the bath. I wave the hair dryer at my head and brush it until it is as sleek as the coat of a black panther. Wrapped in a towel, I go back into the bedroom and stand in front of the clothes strewn all over my bed.
Red. I’ll wear red. I slip into red, satin and lace matching underwear. I hook on suspenders and carefully pull on sheer nearly black stockings.
I look in the mirror. Not bad.
I put all the other clothes back into the wardrobe and slip into my red dress. It is a fitted, tailored thing with buttons all the way down the front that makes it look like I am wearing a long, tight jacket that comes to the middle of my thighs. Because it has long sleeves I will only need to carry a light coat for when it gets colder.
I paint my lips in a similar shade to the dress and carefully pull the mascara wand a couple of times over my eyelashes. Then I sit on the bed and pull on shiny black, patent leather boots. I find a little red clip in a drawer and I slide it into my hair. Finally, I dab perfume at my pulse points.
I find my red purse and put my lipstick, my credit card, a wad of tissue, a couple of mints, and as I always do, my little pill container with a few of my pills in them. That done, I kill the rest of the time by pacing the floor restlessly.
When Shane arrives he calls me on my mobile and waits for me downstairs. I go down and for a second he does not see me. He is leaning against the glass, his hands jammed into the pockets of his black jeans and he’s staring at the floor. He looks remote and preoccupied. As if the weight of the whole world is on his shoulders. I start walking towards him. He looks up and straightens, stares at me with such an odd expression that I stop walking, my stomach sinking, and I ask, ‘What is it?’
Beautiful Beast (Gypsy Heroes) Page 11