Just My Luck(34)

She let loose a cry of frustration and humiliation. He moved swiftly across the room towards where she was sitting on the end of the bed. She was not lying on it or in it, as usual, but she had not sat on the desk chair either. He would know that by sitting on the bed she was showing that she was still open to negotiations. He kneeled on the floor in front of her. Leaned towards her so that their lips were just a fraction away from touching. She lurched forward and bit him.

‘Fuck, that hurt, you bitch,’ he yelled, standing up and swiftly moving away from her.

‘It was supposed to, you bastard.’

Jake looked at his mistress: exciting, expensive, explosive. Secretly, he liked a show of passion. It turned him on when she was uncooperative, difficult. He had fully expected her fury. He hadn’t treated her well since the win, but they were not nice to each other. That had never been part of the deal. Not what they wanted from one another at all. They were always saying so. Even when he’d told her he loved her, he’d almost resented her for it for making him weak and needy.

‘You fucking bastard. Where were you last week?’

He admired her for starting with that question, the least expected. The most personal. He had failed to show up for their rendezvous and she was upset. Or at least paying him the compliment of pretending to be so. What a joke, considering everything else that was going down. He loved it that she was ignoring the question of the lottery when really it had to be all she was thinking about. She was such a game player. So exciting! ‘Buying a Ferrari.’

‘Fuck you.’

‘I’d rather fuck you,’ he smiled. She glowered.

He shrugged. She wasn’t ready for him yet, but she would be. She’d wanted him when he was a loser, how much more she must want him now he was a winner. She was probably wet for him right now. This was just a game.

‘I suppose everything has changed now your wife won eighteen million pounds,’ she muttered sulkily.

‘Nothing has changed.’ She looked wary, vulnerable. He’d never seen her like this before. ‘And my wife and I won eighteen million pounds – give or take.’

‘She bought the ticket.’ He shrugged, careless of the technicality.

Relationships were all about power, who has it, who wants it. The balance, the imbalance. All longing was in the gap in between. She had always had the power. And now he did. Or at least, he had the money and that was more or less the same thing.

‘What’s going on, Jake?’

‘I’m going to divorce her. I’m going to get nine million. Not as much as that of course if I have to split it three ways pre-divorce.’

He watched her carefully, amused at how she was trying not to react. Something about her mouth betrayed her though; it flickered as she suppressed her smile of triumph. He knew she’d never felt happier, more victorious.

‘I see, and if we had a third per family and both divorced, we’d still only have six between us.’ It was a big sentence with all sorts of promises and lies enfolded into it. They stared at one another, long and hard, wondering whether they could trust each other. Or not.

‘You’re always a step ahead. Clever girl. So you see how important it is that you drop this silly claim that we were all still in a syndicate.’

‘What will you do with the money?’ she asked, looking at him from under her eyelashes. It was a cliché but Jake didn’t care. It was a sexy as hell cliché. They were both breathing heavily.

‘I will do anything I like. And I like you.’

‘You used to say you loved me.’

‘Don’t split hairs.’

There was a beat and then they jumped at each other. Clamped their lips and hands down on one another with a complete and visceral passion. His hands slid over her body: her full breasts, her tight waist, her delicious arse. He felt the muscled firmness of her through her clingy dress, he felt the exciting mounds and curves, he felt her nipples stiffen. She’d wanted this all along. Her anger was an act. A risk. A gamble. Her boldness caused his cock to harden. She arched towards him, slunk into him. He broke away but only to pick her up and throw her back on the bed. She fell flat, lips and legs slightly open. Inviting him. His fingers slipped up under her dress, hers laced into his hair and drew him towards her again, their mouths banged heavily on one another, almost painful, totally delicious.

With a swift, practised confidence he undid his trousers, pushed her dress roughly up her thighs and pulled her knickers away. He was inside her in a second, her hot flesh accepting him completely. He put his hands on the tits he said he loved and went at it. Victorious.





17


Emily


Wednesday 1st May

Bloody fecking hell, this is the worst. I can’t believe the Heathcotes and Pearsons are trying to screw us over like this.

It’s all my fault.

Because I blabbed to Rids and Megan, they all had time to rehearse their stories and come up with some crap that is halfway convincing. I hate Ridley and Megan now. I do. I do! Mum looks really grim. Dad is trying to keep the shit together. He says everything is going to be fine and that the investigation will undo the Heathcotes and Pearsons. I hope so! They need to be exposed as the cheating lying shits that they are. Dad says we can tell whoever we like about the lottery win at school now, that we should take ownership of the win. Even without press coverage, I reckon people will believe me because of Dad picking me up last week in a Ferrari but, for the avoidance of doubt, Dad went out and bought ten Michael Kors Gemma tri-colour pebbled leather totes yesterday. TEN!