Chapter Three
A Common Glass of Water
I heard Caroline and James leave the house about a half an hour later. With my parents at the Radomskys’ I was free to drink my Absolut without worrying about getting caught. They usually came home in the early hours of the morning. Nevertheless, I waited a good ten minutes before I indulged. No juice and no fizzy stuff to dull the hit, just like Manuel had taught me.
I scrunched my eyes shut and tried to push away the image of my uncle’s dark, handsome face. Remembering everything else he’d taught me would hurtle me over the brink so I drank the vodka thirstily, using it to push down the memories.
But not low enough.
I shuddered and took another swallow. Only a few streets down, flat 27B would have what I really wanted. There was a twenty-pound note in my mother’s drawer and all I had to do was pinch it and head out. I got up, sat back down and forced myself to stay put.
My hand shook as I lifted the Absolut to my lips. Some of it dribbled down my chin and I cursed my clumsiness. I cursed myself for a lot of other things also, including kissing James. His pitying look was imprinted on my memory, as were his words. The bastard was right and I hated him for it. I was more damaged and more twisted than he could ever guess, not to mention all my other faults.
A junkie.
A sponger.
A pregnant virgin who’d kissed her sister’s man in a fit of pique.
My hand flew to my abdomen. Marcia had phoned me after her shift and the first thing she’d done was forbid me to drink. I’d promised not to but I couldn’t help it. She didn’t understand that I needed it to keep me sane. It was either drink the vodka or raid my mother’s drawer and knock on that door. Even now, with plans to fill my veins with so much Absolut my blood became transparent, I craved the hit. Just the once—the last hit—would help ease my transition into a junk-free life, and then I’d stop.
Liar! My mind threw the word at me so hard I flinched.
What the hell was I going to do? My flippant comments to James weren’t true. I didn’t want to spend my life collecting dole money for cigarettes and booze. Add a brat to the mix and he could write more social commentary on the propagation of the underclass. I could be his case study.
My laugh was bitter. My parents wouldn’t tolerate the shame of single parenthood in their home. If I didn’t marry the man who had “plundered my womanhood” our fragile link would be severed forever. I needed their support, such as it was. My peers were independent decision-making individuals but I was afraid of being on my own again. I was reliant on my parents’ goodwill to live somewhere I had a better chance of staying clean. I looked at the bottle in my hand.
I was pathetic, and James had been right to jeer at me.
There were no mirrors in my bedroom but my reflection in the window was clear. Could I face that girl without the usual blast of debilitating pain? With a deep breath I looked into her eyes, searching deep. I lasted about seven seconds before the explosion hit me, making me clutch my forehead as I absorbed the shock.
Nothing had changed.
I lifted the bottle to my mouth, took another swig and settled back to finish my birthday present.
* * *
“Caroline.”
The voice was husky and male, and it sounded as though it was coming from the end of a long tunnel. I shifted on the bed and my nostrils picked up a whiff of brandy and expensive cologne. It grew stronger, closer to my face, the scent so delicious I took another sniff. The warm pressure on my shoulder increased, shaking me out of sleep. I opened my eyes and blinked a few times into the pitch black. I stared into the dark, reaching out with my hand for the feel of something familiar.
“Darling, it’s James.”
His voice was close to my ear. My hand froze and the cloying aroma of sickly sweet roses wafted up from the sheets. Shit, I was in Caroline’s room. She had black out blinds and a torture rack she called a bed. No wonder my back was aching and my shoulders sore. James mumbled something and the mattress depressed next to me.
His lips grazed my ear. “Let me explain.”
I jerked fully awake and scrambled to sit up. Why was I naked? Oh yeah, I’d got cosy with my Absolut and ended up trying on Caroline’s designer dresses. Things were a bit fuzzy after that but I’d obviously crashed in the buff. I drew my knees into my chest and patted the mattress next to me, coming up with nothing. Darkness be damned, I made a move to scuttle off the bed, but James’s slightly slurred words stopped me.
“I’m glad you decided not to sleep at Veronica’s tonight. Now we can talk. Yes, I kissed Paisley, but I put a stop to it before we went too far.”
Wow. A part of me admired James for telling Caroline about our kiss but most of me wished he weren’t so upstanding. I opened my mouth to tell him who I was and he shifted closer. Underneath the faint waft of brandy and cologne was the potent, male smell of his skin. The combination hit me like the perfume equivalent of the forbidden fruit, tempting me to lean in and inhale him more deeply.
His hand landed on my arm with the heaviness of the alcohol challenged, zapping my skin with a hot, sizzling jolt. He hiccupped and apologised, and I grinned. The haughty lawyer must have indulged in a drink or ten after Caroline ran off to sulk. James didn’t seem ready to pass out but he was beyond tipsy. I thought it was funny, but I was sure Caroline would have been upset so I stifled my laugh.
James’s tone was censorious. “Paisley needs to be put on a lead, flaunting herself like that and trying to turn me on. I would never stoop so low, Caroline, I meant what I said.”
My amusement disappeared as James’s humiliating jeer outside the bathroom came rushing back, wiping away my smile. I wanted payback and I knew exactly how I was going to get it.
Never stoop so low, huh?
I’d make him admit he wanted me and then reveal myself and laugh in his face. I didn’t even think about what would happen after that. What can I say? It made Absolut sense at the time. All I had to do was ignore the effect James had on me and I would have my revenge.
No problemo.
I whispered, imitating Caroline’s cultured tone. “Why did you kiss Paisley?”
“It will never happen again,” he said, hiccupping.
“Does she turn you on?”
A frustrated noise came out of his throat. “Paisley is immature and just as vulgar as you said, a common glass of water most men would drink to slake their thirst and then forget.”
Arrogant prick.
I let out a huff that was, ironically, exactly like one of Caroline’s. James hiccupped and I turned towards the sound of his voice, ready to return his insult. Then I remembered I was naked and clamped my hand over my mouth. He would accuse me of throwing myself at him, of being so desperate for sex I would trick him into it by lying in wait. This called for a change of plan: get off the bed, get dressed and then get angry.
As soon as he let go of my arm.
“Please forgive me, darling. Paisley’s nothing compared to you, the goddess of my dreams,” he said.
Ugh, where did James come up with such dross? I tried to pull away but in spite of the drink, his hold was impossible to escape. He had switched to lawyer mode, comparing me to Caroline and summarising my character or lack of therein. Making his case for forgiveness, James listed the reasons he’d fallen in love with Caroline. The more I listened, the more I wondered who the fuck he was talking about.
Compassionate? Tender? The man was a fool.
James closed his argument by pushing my hair aside to press his lips to the delicate spot behind my ear. It was seductive. Persuasive. I wanted to break away but I couldn’t; his lips were a magnet, pulling me closer.
“Let me convince you how sorry I am. Let me show you how much you turn me on,” he said, tracing the goose bumps on my neck.
I couldn’t help the nervous giggle that slipped out of my mouth. A tipsy James was a horny James. I drew back but his lips covered my erratic pulse and I froze, eyes shut as a small sigh escaped me. He increased the pressure and my heart rate hit the ceiling. My mind still wanted him to pay for his insults but my body wanted him to show me anything he liked. He kissed a slow path from my neck to the corner of my mouth, pausing to breathe in my scent. I parted my lips in anticipation.
“Forgive me,” he said, and slanted his mouth over mine.
James didn’t disappoint, even in his cups. When his lips touched mine, I was just as drawn to him as I had been earlier. The kiss was different though, a deliberately sensual onslaught delivered with a controlled passion that was equally devastating in its effectiveness. I melted into his mouth, my lips moving under his even as I battled the sensations he evoked. He held my head as if I was fragile, as if he feared I would break if he weren’t careful.
A novel experience.
When men kissed me they stuck their tongues down my throat and copped a feel of breast and bottom. Just as James had done outside the bathroom, although not with the same mastery. Yet here he was, alone with me in Caroline’s blacked-out bedroom, worshipping my mouth like I really was a goddess, both hands above my neck because he respected Caroline’s no-contact wishes.
His dedication was shattering; it was arousing. I craved him like I’d craved the fix a few hours earlier, maybe more. I wanted him to crave me back, to lose his careful control and be so crazy for me he’d do anything to have me. Then I would—
I would reveal my identity, I reminded myself firmly. I would watch him writhe in the worst case of blue balls ever had by a supercilious lawyer toff. And I would enjoy it, damn it.
The sane, more mature part of my brain weighed in with her opinion but I tuned her out. I found it hard to listen to her even when I was sober, so why should I try to now? I deepened the kiss and James jerked back in surprise. He swayed and I groped for him in the dark, kneeling on the bed to grab his shoulders and pull him closer, letting my senses guide me to his mouth. My forehead cracked against his jaw and he grunted in pain.
Fucking blackout blinds.
Brilliant blackout blinds, I corrected, kissing his chin to apologise. His jaw was rough with a growing shadow, tiny prickles that grazed my lips and made them tingle. I’d kissed a lot of men before but why had I never pressed the rise and fall of an Adam’s apple against my mouth? Or tasted the hollow of a man’s neck and the hard ridge of his collarbone? The need to touch, to taste and experience more of this man made me kiss a deliberate, zigzagging trail down his chest.
James’s nipples were erect under his shirt, so hard I could nip at them with my teeth. His breath caught and he fastened his hands around my waist, crushing me to his chest and exploring my body tentatively, as if he couldn’t believe he was touching naked flesh.
“Darling, I’ll stop if you want me to,” he said.
I’m embarrassed to admit I actually lunged at him. That insistent little voice screamed at me to stop but the taste of him was a more powerful elixir than revenge. Every atom in my body wanted to fuse with every atom of his. I undid his belt, popping the button on his trousers and unzipping him quickly. His boxers were silky, moist with his arousal. His hand found my breast, making me ache for him to take my swollen nipple into his mouth.
“Gorgeous and full, just like Pais—” he said.
Yes! He’d been about to say my name and it thrilled me, drugging me even more than his kisses. I clamped a hand over his bulge and he jumped.
“Are you ok?”
I was better than okay, but I knew what he meant. There was nothing modest or virginal about my behaviour. Nothing Caroline. I couldn’t help cupping him though, massaging him with my fingers and—holy shit, was I in bed with James and the Giant Prick? He was full and heavy, getting harder every second.
It was the perfect moment to tell him who I was.
Do it, my mind screamed.
No, I wasn’t ready to reveal myself. I squeezed my eyes shut in an effort to buffer the truth, wanting to believe I needed more time for my revenge. But it was no use; I needed more time with him. Just enough to make him come, I amended hastily, and then l would laugh in his face.
I yanked his boxers down and took him into my hand. Just as I’d hoped, he stopped thinking. He was smoking hot, becoming more rigid as he grew and lengthened unencumbered. I inhaled deeply, my nostrils flaring with the soft animal scent of a man in heat. It made me burn with the urge to take him into my mouth and taste him but I circled him with my fingers instead. He was the perfect size. I twisted my palm rhythmically, enjoying the sharp intake of his breath.
James was submissive to my touch. Vulnerable. Sliding and gliding in my hand, hard and slick and powerful. I’d done this plenty of times before but with him I felt alive, every nerve on alert. Connected. I couldn’t help a few sighs of my own as the low rumble in his throat grew louder, making it harder to hold on to my angry objective.
“Sweetheart,” he said thickly, “you don’t have to compete with your slutty sister.”
I jerked my hand off him, sucking in my breath as if I’d been slapped. It sure as hell cleared my head to hear myself described that way. My whole body was stiff with wounded pride, snapping me back into revenge mode. It wasn’t enough to make him come anymore. I wanted him naked for his humiliation.
You just want him naked, my mind sneered.
I yanked his shirt up, a silent demand for him to take it off. My lips explored the length of his taut six-pack. The little trickle of sweat I licked up from his chest was like the salt on a margarita, making me thirsty for more. Angry at my response to him, I bit down and sucked hard enough to leave marks. It upped his arousal, and much as I tried to stifle it, his enjoyment stimulated my own.
“What’s come over you? Is it because of Paisley? Paisley...” he said, bucking harder into my hand.
Hearing my name on his lips only fanned my angry passion to greater heights.
My fingers tightened around him but I slowed down, wanting to drive him mad. “What about her? You can tell me everything. It’ll help me to understand so I can forgive you.”
He repeated my name—my name!—over and over as I varied my pace, expelling me with every breath like a litany or a curse.
“Paisley,” he panted.
Seven letters strung together like the seven sins.
Well, Lust had certainly taken hold of James. He let go of his upper-class refinement to express himself all crude and rude, making me flush even hotter.
“I want to fuck her,” he groaned. His hand twined in my hair, jerking my head back to give me a savage kiss. “Fill her pussy and make her come.”
My eyes popped open.
I didn’t think of my “forbidden passage” in those terms and normally disliked the words pussy, cunt and even worse, snatch. A vagina was a vagina unless I was taunting Caroline, but the way James said pussy put paid to vagina forever. He made it sound hot. Rough. An expression of pure lust that made me gush, slick and eager for him to make good on his wish.
“And?” I prompted.
“Her breasts,” he said, lost in his recollection. “No bra and those gorgeous nipples, so fucking big...” His hands cupped my bottom and squeezed. “I want to taste them, suck them into my mouth.”
The words popped out before I could stop them. “Do it then. Pretend I’m Paisley and get her out of your system.”
I barely got to finish the sentence before his mouth covered my nipple. Molten pleasure coursed through my body, jump-starting a loop between my breasts and my pussy and becoming almost unbearable as he suckled me, grazing me with his teeth. His hair was thick and silky under my fingers and I pressed him closer, feeling a tenderness I’d never felt before. I didn’t care that it was the alcohol in his bloodstream making him want me. Sober James may think I was beneath him but drunk James fantasised about me even when he thought he was with Caroline.
And I wanted him just as much.
We fell back in a tangle of limbs, the rest of his clothing making a hasty journey into the black universe around the bed. Our bodies fit perfectly, straining to get even closer.
“James,” I whispered into his ear, unable to stop my own litany.
It made him wild.
“So sexy,” he murmured, sliding his hand over my breasts. His touch was rough and electric. “Perfect.”
Trembling in expectation, I listened to James tell me exactly what he would do to me. Things that maidenly modest Caroline would be shocked at. I forced the thought of her away, wanting to enjoy this moment before I carried out my revenge. Maybe I should get him more desperate for me before I revealed myself.
No! my mind screamed.
“Yes,” I said, gasping as James’s hand cupped my pussy.
I froze, afraid to disappoint. Did he like Brazilians or bush girls? James didn’t seem to give a toss what I was. He slid a finger inside me, then another, testing me for readiness. He needn’t have bothered, it was like a river in there.
“So wet for me,” he said, making me clench around his fingers. “You’re driving me nuts, Pais—”
Silky hair brushed my face as James shook his head and I smiled in triumph. The lines were so confused he wasn’t sure who he was with anymore. I gave up petty triumph for pure delight seconds later. James may not have had sex for a long time but he still knew how to pleasure a woman. His fingers were confident. Exploring me. Learning me. Stroking me until I reached a state of frenzied, liquid heat that finally boiled over and made me cry out his name.
Holy Mary, Jesus and everybody else. No wonder Marcia said there was no substitute for a man. I gripped James’s shoulders and moaned unabashedly, trembling in his arms as my climax coursed through me.
“You smell great,” he said, his body half covering mine. “Like honey and vanilla.”
Uh-oh.
His voice sounded steadier, as if he was sobering up. I guess there’s nothing like a bit of sex to clear away an alcoholic haze. Languorous and satisfied, I didn’t want to see James’s face or feel his hatred when he discovered my deceit. Neither did I want to humiliate him anymore. The sexual high had been too precious to sully with my petty revenge. What I wanted was more of him, more of the rush he’d given me. Higher, stronger and more powerful than any drug I could think of. I wanted to taste him, to hear him moan as I drove him over the edge.
“Thanks,” I whispered.
His voice was low and sexy. “I love the sound you make when you come.”
Oh God. I actually turned my face into his chest like a goody two-shoes, cheeks burning and feeling shy because I’d had my first orgasm without a vibrator. Shit, next I’d be praying Hail Marys and volunteering at the soup kitchen. It was time to get down and dirty. I tickled his belly button, making him laugh. The line of soft hair underneath it led to even softer curls and I tugged them.
I traced a finger, just a light touch along his shaft, smiling when his breath caught in his throat. His velvety tip was engorged, streaming with his arousal. Unable to resist, I slid down the bed and licked the small, delicate slit. His sigh turned into a groan and he clutched the sheets, bucking his hips in response.
His hand went to my head, gently pressing me into him but I resisted and kept my mouth where it was. The tender skin under the helmet was so soft I wanted to savour its texture. He laid back, open to me. Defenceless. He was in my power but it seemed that I was also in his. His salty-sweet taste was enthralling, a spicy mixture of darkness and delight.
James’s hot cock throbbed against my tongue, making me wonder what he’d feel like inside me. Like his fingers, the texture rough and electric on my skin? Or like a bolt of steel covered in satin, igniting every molecule inside my body until I was lit from within?
I tried to clear the thought from my head, reminding myself of his insults. I wanted to get back into revenge mode but it was no use. Truth held me immobile as the realisation of what I really wanted hit me. I wanted James Xavier Scott-Thomas to make love to me. I wanted him to take my virginity and show me how it felt to be loved by a man.
I had to put a stop to this but I filled my nostrils with James’s virility instead. I deserved this moment, I rationalised. A passionate tryst with somebody I desired before my life went downhill. I teetered on the precipice while the hammered-in Catholic morality of my childhood competed with my desire for James. I didn’t care that I hated him, that he thought I was beneath him or that he belonged to Caroline and thought I was her.
James surprised me by pulling me up to his chest. Before I knew what I was doing, I was straddling him like I would a stallion. I’d never been naked on top of a guy before and it felt...amazing, actually. I was in control except I didn’t really know what to do about it. I was apprehensive and awkward which was ludicrous in light of everything I’d just done.
James read my nervousness and let me adjust to being on top. He rubbed his hands from my waist to my breasts in an assured caress that soon had my breath catching in my throat. My hips gradually relaxed against the scorching heat of his erection.
He bucked his hips to tip me forward and a gentle hand went around the back of my neck to pull me to his mouth, holding me captive with the force of his kiss. I was glad for him to take the lead, eager to experience what he would do next.
When he lifted my hips and adjusted me onto him I caught on quickly, obliging him by lifting my body so I could feel his wet crown. I was nervous as hell, but I’d made up my mind to go through with it. I rubbed my pussy along his length, relishing the rigid heat.
“Darling, this isn’t you,” he said, sounding dazed.
“That’s right,” I whispered. “I’m Paisley, remember? And I...” I gulped and took a deep breath. “I want you to fuck me.”
I’d never said that to a man before and it felt hard-core, even for me. It was the right thing to say though. James flipped me onto my back so fast I almost shrieked. Spreading my legs, he positioned himself between my thighs. I bit my lip as he entered me, parting me gently at first and then more firmly as he pushed deeper.
Holy shit, my brain screamed, I’m having sex for real. With James! And then, God I hope it’s not like what I told Caroline.
As if he’d heard me, James paused to kiss me. “I’ll stop if you say so,” he said, agony in his voice.
I raised myself onto my elbows and the movement made him slip farther inside me. It could have been my breath that caught in the darkness or it could have been his. He groaned, pushing deeper, only to stop with a low curse.
“You can’t get me pregnant,” I assured him.
Well, it was true, wasn’t it?
I stroked him, circling and pumping his slippery shaft before I put him exactly where I wanted. He was slow and sure, controlling the urge I knew he had to go deeper. His cock felt better than I’d imagined. Big and scorching hot. A live wire charged with James’s unique energy. He was making me his, millimetre by millimetre, branding me inside. My pussy was slick, easing him in further, creating a friction that was consuming me with the desire to feel his full length, all the way to the hilt.
When he got to my hymen I tensed, wary of the pain I knew was coming. He lifted the hair from my face and kissed me, moving rhythmically while he coaxed my body into relaxing. It was pain and pleasure in one. He shifted position, easing out of me slightly so he could trail his fingers along my labia to the hard nub between my swollen lips. The ripples of pleasure increased.
His fingers were just as skilful as before, but his prodding cock made it feel ten times more powerful. His husky voice urged me on as he see-sawed at my entrance. The farther he went, the more my pussy clenched around him, the pressure building up like the geyser I had mentioned so casually to Caroline.
James created a rhythm that my body translated into intense, visceral delight. It grew stronger with every thrust until I hit the peak and climaxed in waves of pure ecstasy. I had to bite into his upper arm to keep from screaming as hot pulses of fluid bliss burst from my pussy and covered his cock.
What the fuck was that? I wondered, shocked. Judging from James’s response he loved it, whatever it was.
He kissed me passionately. “I’m going to make you mine now.”
A frisson of fear made my heart jump. The sense that if I did this I would forever belong to this man and this man alone. The man who belonged to my sister.
No! my mind screamed, even as my body welcomed him.
I cried out at the tearing of my flesh, at the rending of the fragile barrier that allowed James to claim me in the most intimately powerful way possible. It was fucking painful, no doubt about it, but I embraced that pain like a treasure because it was mine—and James had given it to me.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.
He kissed my forehead, the tears on my cheek and then my lips, letting me get used to his girth, barely moving until I relaxed my muscles. I didn’t believe I could take all of him but he showed me otherwise. He circled his hips and my body instinctively followed. He dipped into me, taking little nibbles and holding back because he didn’t want to hurt me. The hand on my breast was replaced by his mouth and soon enough, the little flickers of pleasure grew stronger, spreading through my body in bolts of pure bliss.
I’ve never been one of those people who wonder what it’s like to be hit by lightning. Who cares what it feels like if you’re dead? But now I knew. It was pure rapture, condensed into hot little zaps that stemmed from James’s lips, his hands and his cock. And I really would die if he didn’t give me more. My hips rose to meet his downward push, taking the initiative to increase the tempo.
He was still holding back.
“Fuck me,” I urged.
It was easier to say the second time around, so I did it again and was rewarded by a deep, heart-stopping thrust. I smiled, delighted that James liked a dirty mouth in bed. So I told him I loved his enormous cock. He drove it into me, telling me all the ways he wanted me.
It was exhilarating, empowering, making me so hot I thought I would singe Caroline’s sheets. I bet my sister never heard anything so crude, so purely sexual from her sophisticated fiancé. I bet she’d run screaming if she did. Even though I was tender and sore, I didn’t want him to treat me like I was a fragile flower.
Like Caroline.
“Harder, James,” I ordered, my hands tight on his firm buttocks. “I’m Paisley and you’re fucking me like you wanted, remember?”
“Oh God,” he groaned, lost in his fantasy.
Our hands laced together as he increased the tempo, a tiny drop of moisture falling from his forehead onto my lip. We tasted it together, our bodies entwined in a cord of passion and pleasure. I fitted my legs around his thighs to pull him deeper, my hands on the rippling muscles of his back.
The sound in the back of his throat was wild. Primitive. He was sweating and groaning and so was I, goaded by his enjoyment, his total lack of control as he succumbed to his instincts, hard and fast.
“Don’t stop,” I urged against his ear. “Fill me with your cum.”
His body went rigid, the goose bumps spreading under my fingers as his orgasm shook him.
“Fuck...Paisley,” he said, bucking into me.
His pleasure forced me over the edge and I climaxed in time to his wild heartbeat and the convulsive tightening of his fingers on mine. It was the best high I’d ever had. Better tasting and sweeter smelling than anything I could think of.
Addictive.
I had wanted to remain aloof, enjoy the sensation of being loved by James and not be affected. Just another high I could compare to all the others I’d experienced. But when I lay underneath him, gasping for air with only his lips and his tongue to sustain me—at that moment he possessed me. Full stop and end of story. He shuddered, expelling another breath with my name on it, making me smile.
James had branded me his, but in the process he had also made himself mine.
Our bodies soaked the sheets, obliterating all traces of Caroline’s perfume with the musky scent we made together. When I opened my eyes I saw the energy we made too, a shimmering aura of green sinking into blue before the two colours mingled and were absorbed back into our skin.
Gone, as if it had never been.
I’d never seen anything so beautiful. Or so heartbreaking. I wanted to cry but I held on with an effort. With the slowing of my heart rate came the determination to save the sadness for later, when it could join self-recrimination, guilt and “why the fuck did I do that?”
James shifted onto his back and pulled me into his arms. All I could feel at that moment was elation. Languor. He told me that I was the best he’d ever had, that my body was much more than he’d ever imagined. He loved me and would love me forever.
Love Caroline, my mind threw at me.
I pushed away the thought and swirled my initials on James’s chest, my fingers as sensuous as the kisses he gave me. I would wait until he was asleep before I crept back to my room. There would be hell to pay when my deceit was discovered, and I wanted to savour this moment so I could cleave to it when my blackout dream became daylight reality. I cuddled into James, listening to his breath deepen.
Not bad for a glass of water was my last thought before I too drifted into sleep.