Carnage: Book #1 The Story Of Us (Volume 1)(53)

“Fuck,” he moans into my mouth. I’ve been at a business lunch with my Mum today and am still wearing my work clothes, a Chanel skirt and jacket with a shell blouse underneath but it’s what I have on under my skirt that has got his attention now; his fingers are stroking the outside of my thigh, reaching under the hem of my skirt and I’m just waiting for it, in three, two, one.

“Fuckin hell kitten, you’re wearing stockings?”

I smile at myself, what is it with men and stockings? “I sure am Tiger, what of it?”

He bends his knees so we are eye to eye, even in my heels; he’s a good few inches taller than me. “Show me.”

“What?”

“Pull your skirt up and show me your stockings.”

“Fuck off.”

“Don’t swear Kitten, it’s not nice, now pull up your skirt and show me what you’re wearing.”

“Fuck nice and no.”

“Did you wear them for him?”

“Who?”

“That f*cking idiot you walked in here with.”

“Stop swearing Tiger, it’s not nice and it’s none of your f*cking business.”

He pulls me with him while he walks backwards and rests his butt on the edge of his desk, holding me at arm’s length; he slides my skirt up my thighs to my hips, then seems to change his mind and pulls it back down again. My belly drops to the floor as that horrible, horrible feeling of rejection hits me and for the first time in almost four years, I think I might cry. He takes a step toward me, reaches for my hip, undoes the button and slides down the zip, because the skirt’s fully lined and a little lose, thanks to the amount of cocaine I’ve been shoving up my nose every weekend for the past six months. My skirt slides silently to the floor and from somewhere, confident George appears. I step out of my skirt and away from him, shrug out of my jacket, pull my blouse over my head and stand in front of him in my pale pink La Perla lingerie. I put my hands on my hips, open my legs and look him square in the eye, his gaze doesn’t meet mine, his eyes are looking over my body, and I feel a little self-conscious. I know I’m a little too skinny, too many drugs, too much gym, too much misery doesn’t set you in good stead for a great appetite but judging by the tepee that’s forming in his trousers, he likes what he sees. His hands are gripping either side of the huge oak desk and his knuckles are white, his eyes rest on my tits, which finally seem to have decided to stop growing, I’m five feet eight and only just filling out size eight clothes right now but I still need an E cup bra to fit my tits, making dresses an almost impossible wardrobe choice for me. Luckily working in the business, I just get things either tailor made or altered.

“Turn around,” Cam’s voice makes me jump as it rasps out, his gaze finally meeting mine, I turn very slowly, once I have my back to him, I pull the scrunchy out of my hair, shake it out with my fingers and let it fall down my back.

“Jesus f*cking Christ Kitten.” I look over my shoulder at him.

“What Tiger, what’s wrong?” His brown eyes are almost glowing, they shine so brightly, his cheeks are flushed and I reckon he must have a whole tribe of red Indians sitting in that tepee judging by the size of it. I wink at him and he makes a sound in his chest that’s almost like a growl and I have to control the little whimper that almost escapes my throat.

“Come here,” he orders.

“Please,” I say.

He stands up straight, he’s so tall, he must be at least six feet five and broad and just so, so…

“Come. The. Fuck. Here… ” Masterful. I turn all the way around so that I’m facing him again and take a step forward, then jump straight into his arms as someone bangs loudly on the office door.