Reading Online Novel

Dirty Aristocrat(57)



I stare at the window until it lightens.

Then I get up very carefully, my body sore and my sex swollen and puffy  between my legs, and I go into the bathroom. When I use the toilet it  burns like crazy. He must have torn me last night. I close my eyes and  lean my forehead against the cool tiles. He did not use protection. And I  did not ask him to. I have never done that with anyone. Not even when I  was a teenager. I have always been so careful. So cautious.

I splash water on my face and go back into the bedroom. It reeks of sex.  Very quietly I collect my clothes off the floor. My top is ripped  beyond repair and my skirt is torn and the hook missing, but still  usable. I borrow his shirt. Of course, it is too big, but I roll the  sleeves and it will have to do.         

     



 

For some minutes I stand over him and watch him sleep. He is deliciously  manly and the desire to wake him and have sex is so strong I have to  force myself to turn away. I tiptoe down the stairs and let myself out  of the front door.

Outside the air is cool. There is no one about. I look at my mobile  phone. It is five thirty a.m. I start walking down streets blindly. This  is the good part of London and there are no tramps. In fact I meet no  one for a good ten minutes. Then a man on a bicycle passes me by. He  does not spare me a glance. I look at the time. Nearly six.

Finally I see a red telephone box. I go and lift the receiver to check  that it is working. It is. I go back outside and find a little corner  shop where I buy a bar of chocolate and get some change. I go back to  the telephone box and check the time again-six fifteen a.m. She should  be awake by now. I go into the box, drop some coins into the slot and  dial.

A woman answers, and I release the breath I am holding. Her voice is  dear and familiar. I feel tears rushing into my eyes. I blink them away.

'Hello,' she says again.

'Hey, Mom,' I say. My voice sounds small and broken. I shouldn't have  denied her existence. No matter what, I shouldn't have done it.





ELEVEN



Jake

I park my car and sit inside it for a while. My pulse is too erratic. I  feel too jumbled and unsettled. I need to calm myself. I get out of the  car, lock it and cross the road. It's an old square building in a shitty  area. She shouldn't be living here. I make a mental note to move her  into better digs in the next couple of weeks. I go up to the door and  ring her bell. She answers almost immediately.

'Yeah?'

'It's me.'

There is a pause and then the buzzer sounds. I push the door open and  enter. The walls are white, the floor is smooth concrete. It's basic but  clean enough. Her flat is on the first floor. I take the steps two at a  time. She opens the door before I can ring the bell. Her face is  scrubbed clean of make-up and her mouth looks swollen and red. She is  wearing an old flannel dressing gown. There is a faint bruise on her  throat. I feel a stab of unease. I did that.

'Melanie is asleep,' she explains in a hushed voice.

I reach out to touch the bluish mark on her throat and she flinches away.

'Come in,' she says, and starts walking toward the sitting room to cover her involuntary movement away from me.

I follow her silently. The room has two sofas, a glass-topped coffee  table. A biscuit tin is on it. She sits at the edge of a sofa. I don't  sit. I am too wired. I stand over her.

'Are you all right?'

She nods.

'Why didn't you answer my calls?'

She doesn't look at me. Just shrugs.

I get down on my haunches and look directly into her eyes. 'What's the matter?'

I see her eyes go to my lip. It is still red and swollen.

'I don't think we should see each other anymore,' she whispers hoarsely.

Every cell in my body rejects that statement, but my face remains calm, my voice cool. 'Why not?'

'Because I behave like an animal when I am with you.'

I take her hands in mine. She tries to pull away, but I don't allow her  to. 'We will behave like animals until we no longer need to,' I tell her  calmly. It is also my most persuasive voice.

She stares at me with those strangely beautiful eyes of hers. And God! I  just want to rip her dowdy clothes off and fuck her right there on that  cheap couch. That's the real truth. I don't want to talk. I don't want  to reassure her that it's all going to be OK. I just want to fuck her  senseless. Because when she is around I lose all control. I become a  beast.

'Love shouldn't be like this. It should be beautiful.'

I don't let myself react. I don't let her see that she has unconsciously called what we have love. But it is a heady head rush.

'Let's take it step by step then. Let's get to know each other. Let's go out to dinner tonight,' I murmur.

'I can't tonight. I'm working.' Her voice is dull and matter-of-fact.

I feel the hot ball of jealousy slam into my gut. I try to control  myself, but I can't. I stand up and stride away from her. My hands  clench. 'You're not going to work tonight.'

'I have to. Brianna has me down for today and tomorrow. We can go out the day after.'

She has absolutely no idea. 'You're not working in Eden again, Lily.'

Her head snaps up. She rises to her feet. 'What? I need that job.'

'I can't let you take your clothes off for other men. Even the thought kills me.'

'That's not fair. I have debts to pay.'         

     



 

I walk up to her. 'What debts?'

She looks up at me. 'I don't want you to pay my debts for me.'

'What debts, Lily?'

'That's my business.'

'Everything about you is my business.'

'I'm not ready to talk about it. Just leave it, please. It's personal.'

I frown at this new complication. What the fuck is she involved in? I  don't show her my horror or the horrible thoughts that are running  through my head. 'I don't want my woman chased by debt collectors,' I  counter reasonably.

'Please, Jake. Leave it. All this is too soon. Just give me some space, please.'

'Space? Is that what you want from me?'

I see a flash of something fierce in her eyes. No, she doesn't want  space. She wants to tear my clothes off too. I grab her by the forearms  and take her mouth. Sweet. Soft. The taste of her sends me wild. It is  as if last night never happened. It is as if I have still not had her  yet. The yearning for her rages insides me.

I force open her mouth and she wraps her smooth tongue around mine and  sucks hard as if she is feeding on me. She presses her stomach into my  fully erect dick, wanting it. I feel myself beginning to lose myself to  her.

There is a sound nearby and with a gasp she pulls violently away from  me. I feel as if some part of me has been torn away. Her housemate puts a  hand up. 'Don't mind me, I'm just on my way to the kitchen.'

I spare her half a glance before my attention returns to Lily.

She is holding a shaking hand against her mouth. 'You'd better go,' she  says. She looks white and alone and so troubled that all I want to do is  hold her in my arms, but I know it will be the wrong thing to do.

'I'll pick you up at seven tonight.'

She nods and I walk out of her flat and call Brianna.





TWELVE



Lily

I get out of the shower and choose my underwear carefully: expensive,  lace and net. The heat wave has not let up and it is so hot and humid I  put my hair up and wear a white dress that leaves my back bare. I slip  on strappy heels and for some reason, perhaps because I have never seen  my lips look so plump and swollen, I paint my lips crimson. They  dominate my face and make me think of the female monkeys whose butts  turn bright red when they are in heat and ready to mate.

The doorbell rings at five minutes to seven.

I open the door and see emerald fire kindle in his eyes.

'Jesus,' he exclaims softly, and strokes my cheek with his knuckle. He  is wearing a dark red shirt, two buttons undone, the red crystal chain  visible when he moves, and black trousers with knife edge creases in  them. His shoes are mahogany colored.

He looks like a gangster and leads me to a ridiculously souped-up Range  Rover with massive wheels and a row of headlights on the top. I raise my  eyebrows and he smiles, guileless as a child. 'People expect gypsies to  have such things. Get in. It's fun.'

I seriously doubt him but as it happens it is fun and a laugh to be so high up.

He takes me to the fancy, oak-paneled, Michelin-starred restaurant  Hibiscus. Wine bottles gleam from their silver buckets. Inside it  doesn't smell of food, but the perfume of Mayfair fat cats. The staff  are discreet and faultless in their superlative attention. There are  complimentary cocktails, small delicacies and copious amounts of sour  bread. The menu is intriguing.

'What will you have?' I ask Jake.

'The roasted suckling pig spread with warm Irish sea urchins.'

'I've never had sea urchins before. Are they good?'

'They are an acquired taste. They have a dirty, sexy flavor,' he murmurs, his eyes dropping to my mouth.

There it is again, the sweet ache for him. I avoid his gaze. 'I'm having  the yellow fin tuna with roasted artichokes and Herefordshire pine tree  foam.'

He makes a face. 'Ugh …  I can't eat foam. It reminds me of cat sick.'

But it is not the foam, but the raw sea urchins on sweet potato that are  sick making. I almost have to spit out the mineral-like concoction Jake  slips into my mouth. He laughs at the expression on my face.