The Story of Me (Carnage #2)(63)

‘Revenge… What a great feeling’



For f*ck’s sake, what does that mean? Fucking women.

Morticia’s hand is squeezing the top of my leg as she leans in and says, “My, aren’t you popular.” I look from her hand to her mouth.

“Darlin’, you have no f*ckin’ idea. Now, either get yourself in the bogs and give me a blow job or f*ck right off to where you came from.”

She pouts her already pouty lips. I look over her face. Her makeup looks like it’s been laid on with a trowel. I f*cking hate too much make-up on a woman; swearing and too much make-up are two things I can’t stand. Kitten was wearing too much makeup on Saturday night. Don’t get me wrong. She still looked f*cking gorgeous; she always looks gorgeous, but when she showered and took it all off, she looked stunning. She takes my breath away. Even just thinking about her, I can feel my chest, and my balls for that matter tighten. Fuck, f*cking woman.

“And what’s in it for me?”

Shit, I’d forgotten about Morticia Adams next to me. Her hand is now rubbing my cock through my jeans, which is now like a battering ram, thanks to thoughts of Georgia showering, taking off her makeup, her clothes. I finish my drink. “What’s in it for you, love, is a mouthful of my spunk; spit it, swallow it, rub it in your wrinkles, I don’t really give a f*ck, now make up your mind, or f*ck off.”

She gets up from her stool and says, “Meet me in the disabled toilets in a couple of minutes.” Fuck that. I ain’t waiting. Two of us in the one carzey, everyone’s gonna know what’s happening anyway.

“Go,” I say to her, “I’ll follow.” She takes three steps and I get up. She looks over her shoulder and shakes her head, but I really couldn’t give a f*ck. I follow her down a short walkway and into the thankfully empty toilet. I lock the door behind me, and as I turn, she tries to kiss me with her trouty lips. “No, love, straight suck, no kissing.” She huffs as I push her down onto her knees. I undo the button fly of my jeans, but get no further when she pushes my hands away and pulls my cock from my boxers. God, that feels better.

“Wow,” she says, “someone’s pleased to see me.”

I shake my head at her. “Not pleased to see you, sweetheart, just missing someone else, badly.” She looks down at the floor and I wonder how many times I can insult her before she gets off her knees and walks away. I should feel bad, but I don’t. She offered. She’s the one who’s happy to be kneeling on the floor in a disabled toilet, when I’ve promised her nothing in return, so I don’t. I don’t feel any kind of sympathy for her.

I grab the hair at the back of her head and f*ck her face until I come, all the while thinking of my Kitten and how she only ever took the tip in her mouth. If I ever pushed in too far, she would gag. Even giving a blow job, she’s elegant and classy and I love the f*ck out of her. She’s nothing like the woman in front of me now, swallowing my cum, with lipstick and that black shit women put on their eyes all over her face. I pull out of her mouth with a pop, wash my hands and my dick in the sink, and leave her on the floor of the toilet. Luckily, as I head back out to the lounge, first class passengers for my flight are being called to board. I get in my nice, big comfy seat and send a text off to Georgia. Fuck, I’m gonna lay my cards on the table. I’m a mug, where she’s concerned. I can’t help it.



I love the f*ck out of you.

I will talk.

You will listen.

We will be together.

I’ve waited long enough.

No more f*ckin’ around, Kitten.

This Tiger’s about to roar.



I hit send and have a little chuckle to myself, ‘this tigers about to roar’. What the f*ck was I thinking? If Benny or my brothers see that, they’d be on the floor laughing and they would never let me live it down. Oh, well, it’s done now. Let’s see what her response is, if any. Fuck, I hope she replies, or just reads it even. I just need her to know. Fuck, I should’ve just been honest with her Saturday night instead of playing games and waiting for her to blow smoke up my arse and tell me how much she wanted me. The lack of sleep, alcohol, the release of tension from the very average blow job I received all mean that I’m out cold before the plane even takes off.





Chapter Fifteen


Never in my entire life have I been so happy that I’m rich. I know it’s shallow and selfish and it makes me sound like the spoilt princess I’m trying to convince everyone that I’m not, but as I lay in bed on a private jet flying me back to England, I’m over the f*cking moon that Lennon used some of my wealth and booked my journey home this way.

We’ve made two stops already over the past twenty hours and I’m now only a few hours from home. I’ve spent most of the journey either sleeping, crying or trying to work the f*ck out why Cam would lie to me like that. If he knew he had a pregnant girlfriend waiting for him back in England, then why would he make all those promises to me? Was he out for revenge? Did he think I would be his bit on the side while he played happy families with his girlfriend and baby? Baby. Cam’s having a baby. Something I might never be able to give him. Something I may never be able to give anyone. And as much as I try to convince myself that I’ve now come to terms with the fact I will never carry a child again and I may never even become a mother, I haven’t. I never will.