Beautiful Beast (Gypsy Heroes #3)(95)

I twist and struggle, but he is so much stronger there is simply no contest. His pubic bone keeps on hitting my clit and I feel myself begin to break open. My drop down on him is no longer slow but frenzied. My breasts bounce wildly.

The climax comes while I am wide open and taking every inch of that massive cock of his. As he unleashes his hot cum deep inside me I clench wildly around his flesh. We are both panting. I rest my forehead against his chest. Slowly, he lifts my body so I am looking into his eyes.

We gaze at each other.

‘Lily, why are you so scared?’ His voice is soft, curious.

‘I’m not scared.’

‘No?’

‘No.’ I lightly graze my fingernail on the red crystals. He catches my fingers. They look so tiny inside his big hand.

‘I’m just reckless,’ I tell him.

‘Hmm… That’s what I would be if I was not what I am.’

‘What are you?’

‘Lucky. I’m very lucky, Lily,’ he says drowsily.

His eyelids flutter down and I watch him fall asleep while he is still inside me. I lift away from his body gently, but with a sucking sound that does not wake him. I lie beside him—not so our skins touch, but so I can still feel the heat that comes in waves from his body. I cannot comprehend the connection I have with this man. I cannot understand the way we f*ck, like wild animals. I have never been like that with anyone. And I simply cannot comprehend the deep way I feel about him.

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.’