Dirty Bad Strangers(47)

“Fucking hell.” I dragged myself out of bed. “Give it a fucking rest.”

“What am I expected to do now, hey? Tell me!”

“Same as always. Smile for the cameras and tell them what a big pile of fucking bullshit it is. Tell them how I was home at two a.m. and fucked your pissy little brains out. Gush about how in love we are, and how you know I’d never do such a horrible thing, you know, all the crap you normally come out with. You’re a good fucking liar, April, you’ll pull it off just fine.”

She stared at me with dagger eyes while I pulled my jeans on. “Never again, Jason Redfern. You’re never going out on your own again, you understand me? You go, we go. Simple as that.”

“Whatever.”

“I mean it, Jason. No clubs, no fucking late nights at Steve’s, no stupid chatline calls. NOTHING!”

“Or else what?”

“Don’t push me,” she seethed. “Don’t fucking push me!”

My gut twisted with rage. “I’m fucking pushing. What the fuck are you threatening?”

She folded her arms, eyes bulging. “I’ll destroy you. I’ll go to the media and I’ll tell them what a sick piece of shit you are. I’ll tell them about the chatline sluts, and the seedy gang bangs, and your little-boy hang-ups about your dad. I’ll write a fucking book. Sell a million fucking copies. And all of it will be about you, and your pathetic little problems and your pathetic little life. How about that for a career climax? All your dirty underwear in the daily papers? Wouldn’t Daddy be fucking proud of you then, you filthy bastard!”

I slammed the fucking door so hard the whole fucking house shook.



I sat watching the rain through the windscreen. Staring out at fields towards nowhere, Range Rover pulled off road with the wipers on full. Sitting. Thinking. Waiting.

My phone pinged, and I dreaded the message, but this time it wasn’t April.

Gemma: I’m breaking etiquette. Had a shitty night, was hoping to hear from you but I guess whatever came up is still up. Hope you’re ok. xx

I pictured Powell’s hands on her hips, his cock grinding against her ass. Anger and a hard-on always make an interesting combination.

Where are you?

The reply came in a heartbeat.

Gemma: Home. Alone. xx

I rubbed my cock through my jeans. Irrational anger, and frustration. And jealousy. I was fucking jealous. And horny. And desperate.

Be ready in an hour. On your fucking knees.

I only waited long enough to check her response.

Gemma: I’ll be waiting. xx









Chapter Thirteen




Jason



I was late. Well over an hour.

My cock twitched in my jeans at the thought of her waiting for me; thighs spread wide and her fingers on her sweet little clit. She wouldn’t dare take the blindfold off. I knew her well enough to know that.

I grabbed the package from the backseat, pulling my cap down lower to hide my eyes, then made my way up to her. I was still churning, wounded to breaking point.

A little moan as I pushed open the door. She was already well on her way, cheeks flushed pink, just the way I like them. Her peachy nipples poked through the black lace of her slip, begging to be sucked. Or bitten. I imagined savaging them and enjoying the sounds of her pain.

My dirty girl. My sweet little Gemma and her need for cock. Any cock.

Powell’s cock.

I stripped without a word, and she didn’t break the silence. Then I opened the package, letting her hear me.

“A present for you. Or maybe a present for me. I’ll let you decide.”

“What is it?” she whispered.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” I barked. “Get to your feet.”

She did as she was told.

“I want you to dance for me. I want you to dance like a filthy little slut, showing me how much you love cock. I want you to dance like you’re in a club and the whole room is watching, a roomful of dick all hungry to plug that juicy snatch of yours. You’d take it, wouldn’t you, dirty girl? You’d take all that cock for me. You’d love it, too.”

A groan from her throat told me all I needed to know.

“Dance for me.”

“I need music...” she breathed. “There’s a CD in the player...”

I scouted the room with my cock in my hand, finding it under the TV. The music was heavier than I’d expected, deep bass with melodic guitars.

“...I won’t be as good if I can’t see.”

“Dance,” I said. “Now, Gemma.”

She swayed at first, only gently. Shifting her weight from side to side with her hands on her hips as she settled into the music. She hitched her little slip, showing off the glistening heat of her thighs, then up, until I could see the mound of her beautiful pussy tight in her panties.