Dirty Bad Wrong (14 page)

I admired my work, her rosy nipple dark through her wet blouse, jutting just high of the lace of her bra. I wanted more. Fingers at her buttons, desperate for skin, but she stopped me, scratchy fingers on mine, plucking me away from her. I eyed her, full of questions, but she didn’t answer, just skirted sideways, taking me with her, her hand reaching across the wall. For the light, she was going for the light. I grabbed her wrist on instinct, pinning it above her head with more force than I intended.

“No fucking way, Cat. I want to see you.”

She bit her lip, and this time I did what I’d thought about doing a million fucking times before. I clamped my mouth over hers, hungry and feral and desperate, crazy for the beautiful fucking creature who’d driven me insane. I felt her unravel, bucking against me, her thighs either side of mine, needy for cock. I let her wrist go free, gripping at her ass through her skirt, curling my fingers under the hem. My balls ached at the promise of her tight wet slit, the sight of her spread and exposed and so fucking vulnerable.

“And I want to see you, James,” she said, yanking at my tie. My stomach clenched, the beast flaring on my ribs.
The beast
. I’d gone fucking mad already, dancing with disaster in Lydia Marsh’s hotel room.

“There’s something you need to know,” I said. “Something you won’t expect...” But it was too late, she’d already picked at my shirt, pulling it open to my nipples. Her eyes widened to saucers, her hand at her mouth as she paled before my eyes. Motherfucking hell, was it that much of a shock? I looked down at the head of the beast, its inky black tendrils, seeing it through fresh eyes, just as she was. Of course it was a fucking shock.

Fuck no-one you know, and know no-one you fuck.

Mr Corporate had fallen apart right in front of her fucking eyes. My balls bellowed in frustration, stilted lust twisting a knife in my gut. I backed away with a growl of obscenities, buttoning up my shirt before she could blink.

“Shit, Lydia, this wasn’t supposed to happen.” She didn’t speak a word, just gawped like a slack-jawed idiot. I fought the urge to choke the breath from her, shake her into submission until she fell to her knees and worshipped my cock to teach her manners. I grabbed my tie from the floor, smoothed down my hair. “I hate fucking clichés, but can we forget this ever happened?”

I didn’t wait for an answer, pacing my way to the exit as fast as my legs would carry me. I’d almost made it when she called out, her voice all weak and pathetic.

“James... wait.”

“I’m sorry, Lydia, this was my mistake. I’m very sorry.”

“Wait... please. Just wait a minute.”

I rested my forehead against the door, ears ringing with regret and embarrassment and self-recriminations. Fuck this shit. I went for the handle, breaking for the corridor, one foot in no-man’s land before I heard her speak again.

“Masque! Please, for God’s sake, just wait a minute!”

Now it was my turn to gawp like a slack-jawed idiot.

***

Lydia

James stopped dead in his tracks, one foot still inside the door.

“What the hell do you know about Masque?”

“I saw him... you! I saw
you
! At Explicit, last weekend, I was there with Rebecca and Cara, and I didn’t know it was you, I swear!”

He edged back inside. “Rebecca took you to Explicit? Why the fuck would she do that?”

“I wanted to go... I wanted to see.”

“Well, now you’ve fucking seen. I need to go. I shouldn’t be here.”

“No, no, no!” I hissed. “Please, Masque...
James
... don’t go.”

His eyes met mine, and this time they were the shadowy eyes of the man in the mask. I couldn’t help but smile.
Seduce James Clarke and you’ll get your time with Masque. Cross my heart.
It was so fucking obvious; his bulk, his manner, his perfectly chiselled jawline, his relationship with Rebecca. “I’m glad this is amusing you,” he said. “It’s not looking so funny from where I’m standing.”

“I’m not laughing, it’s just all falling into place.”

“You’ll have to enlighten me.”

I sat on the bed and put my head in my hands, deep breaths in and out. “I heard Rebecca and Cara, you know... in the kitchen. I didn’t expect to feel anything, but it turned me on, ok? And Rebecca knew, she heard me, and she took me to Explicit, just to see. I didn’t think it would even be my thing, but then there was this guy... this incredible guy... commanding this redhead on stage like she was the only woman in the entire universe, and this man, with the chimera tattoo from Rebecca’s wall, was so powerful, so compelling, I couldn’t take my eyes off him.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” he said. “I need to leave now, Lydia, let’s call it a day.”

My heart pounded. “You don’t understand!”

“What’s there to understand? You saw a freak in a club, it was me. End of story.”

“I didn’t see a freak,” I wheezed. “I saw a God, James. I wanted to be
her
. I haven’t stopped thinking about that man, not for one single second. Ask Rebecca, I’ve been driving her mad.” I looked up at him, desperate for his reaction. “Please don’t leave. Not yet.”

He came to the bed, got down on his knees, placed hot hands over mine. “I hurt people, Lydia, but I wouldn’t have done that with you, not here, not tonight. This was just about you and me, two people in a hotel room. I wouldn’t have hurt you, Cat, I promise.”

I smiled at him, at the absurdity of the whole situation. “You’re not listening to me, James. I
want
you to. I
want
Masque. I want James Clarke too, but I’m crazy about Masque, I can’t get him out of my head.”

He squeezed my knuckles. “You don’t want either, trust me.”

“Don’t tell me what I want, ok? Don’t treat me like an idiot who doesn’t know anything.”

He sighed. “I’m not treating you like an idiot, I’m telling you the truth.”

I hated the way he looked at me, like some cute little dolly who doesn’t know shit. Not like the
proper
women from Explicit, not like Rebecca and Cara and all the other perfect minxes he hung with every bloody weekend. I pushed him away, got to my feet. “You think I don’t know what I’m talking about? I’ll show you. It’s why I was going for the light, James, I didn’t think you’d like it.”

I unbuttoned my blouse, shaky but resolute, slipping it from my shoulders and unclasping my bra, revealing my bruised tits. His eyes widened as I jiggled out of my skirt, presenting myself in just a small pair of lace panties, nervous but unrepentant. I twirled slowly and I caught him swallow, soaking in every wheal and bruise.

“Rebecca’s work,” he said calmly, a smile twitching at his mouth. “I should have guessed.”

“I
asked
her to,” I insisted. “I
wanted
it.”

“Why?”

I felt my cheeks flush, and folded my arms over my breasts. “Practice,” I mumbled.

“Practice?”

I looked at the floor, anywhere but at him. “For
Masque
, I was practicing for Masque.”

“And good old James Clarke, was he practice for Masque too?”

My mouth clammed up. “No... yes... I don’t know. I wanted
you
, I wanted you before I even saw Masque.”

“Tut tut, Lydia, that’s a dangerous game, playing one man’s lust for the sake of another’s.” He got up, took the TV remote from the dresser and flicked through the stations until he found a late night comedy show. I watched in silence as he turned the volume up loud, wondering what the hell he was doing. He took a seat on the edge of the bed. “You’re a bad girl, Lydia Marsh. Do you know what happens to bad girls?” A whirlwind of tiny butterflies fluttered around my stomach. “Come here.”

His hands reached out, pulling me forwards by the waist. I sucked in my stomach, trying to cut a better picture, but he shook his head. “Don’t ever do that again, Lydia. I want to see you exactly as you are. You have a beautiful body.”

His fingers travelled up my ribs, to my breasts. He gripped tight, rolling tender flesh in heavy palms. “You’ve been a
disgustingly
bad girl, Miss Marsh. Take your panties off.”

I did as he asked, sliding the flimsy lace down over my hips to drop to the floor. I gripped my legs together, blushing under his gaze, but he shot me a look of disapproval. “Don’t hide from me, Lydia.”

I shuffled my feet apart and he placed his hands on my thighs to guide them wider still, studying me so intently I flushed with embarrassment. I suddenly wished I was shaved like Rebecca, but he didn’t seem to care. “You have a gorgeous pussy, Lydia, I can’t wait to stretch you open.”

I pictured the woman on stage, her animal groans as his fist pumped all the way inside her. “Will it hurt?”

“I could
make
it hurt... if that’s what you need.” He took my arm, twisting it in the light. I could have died on the spot, pulling away from him to hide my scars. It took Stuart years before he figured what they were, but James Clarke wasn’t Stuart. He was another animal entirely. He raised my wrist to his lips. “I don’t want you adding any more of these, there are much better ways to savour pain.” Canned laughter sounded loud in the room as he peppered my skin with kisses. “I’m not going to hurt your pussy tonight, Lydia, but bad girls
do
need to learn their lesson. Over my knee.”

My heart raced as I lowered myself onto his legs, the hard ridge of his cock pressing into my stomach. It added to both my nerves and excitement in equal measure. He tweaked my position, pushing my head down low and placing a strong arm across my shoulder blades. I steadied myself as he tickled my thighs. “You will not make a sound. The last thing we want is anyone calling the police. They will hear only the TV, agreed?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Good girl.”

He hit me harder than Rebecca ever did, much harder, landing blows right on top of my bruises. I sucked in breath for the first few slaps, jiggling around on his lap as best I could, given his grip on me. He paused after ten and slipped warm fingers between my legs. “You’re a dirty girl, Cat. So fucking wet. Your cunt smells fucking gorgeous.”

Another ten, and the tingling well and truly kicked in. My breath came out hard and ragged as he began to vary the blows, landing some on the soft skin of my thighs. I couldn’t stop myself grinding against his cock jutting beneath his trousers, even though he’d curse and hit me all the worse for it.

“You’re on dangerous ground, Lydia Marsh,” he said, accentuating the words with the thwack of his palm. “Playing with the beast. I’d love to see you striped by my cane, your tits all bound-up sore for me.” I could hardly breathe, my pussy was on fire. “I’d love to break you open, but not tonight, Lydia. Not tonight...”

He released his grip, leaving me sprawled across him as I caught my breath. I twisted my head to meet his eyes. “What now, Masque? What are you going to do to me?”

He massaged my ass with firm fingers, heightening the post-spanking glow. “You’re with
James
tonight, Cat, not Masque. I’d quite like to do what I came in here for.”

“What did you come in here for?”

He twisted me in a heartbeat, pulling me up to straddle his legs, his face in mine. “I came in here for
you
, Lydia, my green-eyed temptress. Not for kink, or bruises, or gaping pussy and tears... just you.”

His mouth was on mine in a flash, hands in my hair. His tongue was so fierce, knocking me right off kilter. This wasn’t like with Stuart, the twist of his tongue around mine was primal, raw... it was amazing. I kissed James right back, wrapping my arms around his neck for extra balance as he got to his feet, taking me with him. He laid me on the bed, barely breaking contact, covering the whole length of my body with his. I grappled with his shirt, desperate for skin on skin, desperate for the chimera.

“Please let me see you,” I begged into his mouth. “Please.” He raised himself up, straddling me with solid thighs, the outline of his cock thick through his suit trousers. I sucked in breath as he took off his shirt, and there, in all its glorious darkness, was the beast upon his chest. I traced its lines with shaky fingers, all the way down his ribs. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Rebecca’s a fine artist.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Some of it. Good pain, though, Cat, some pain feels so good.”

“I’m learning that.”

“You’ll learn a lot from Rebecca, she’s extremely experienced.”

I dared to meet his eyes, wrenching my gaze from the beast. “I want to learn from you. From Masque.”

“This isn’t a conversation for now, Lydia, I’m ravenous.” He lowered himself onto me, sculpted muscle hard against my tender breasts. I loved his skin against mine, the chimera scorching, just like I’d wanted... just like I’d imagined. He worked his way down with his mouth, stopping to suck at my nipples. I awaited the pain of his bite, but it didn’t come. “I knew you’d have perfect tits, Cat.” He met my eyes as he flicked his tongue. “They’ll learn to love pain, I promise.”

“You can hurt me, James,” I moaned. “I’m ready.”

“I have other plans.” He carried on down, slowly, and my stomach knotted as he positioned himself between my legs, tickling the soft line of hair with his breath.

“I should have shaved... like Rebecca.”

“Your pussy is divine as it is, Lydia. Don’t be shy.” He growled in the back of his throat, and pulled my lips apart, stretching them wide with his fingers. I closed my eyes, fighting back the embarrassment. “Look at me, Cat.” I did as he asked, and his eyes were so honest, so raw. “You’re soft as a flower, Lydia, I wish you could see how pretty your cunt is, you’re so fucking beautiful like this.” He ran his tongue over me, darting ever so lightly over my clit. I squirmed and he gripped my thighs, holding me still. “I’m going to make you cum, and you’re going to let me. You will not fake, or exaggerate, or rush yourself for the sake of dramatics. You must relax and let it happen. Am I clear?”

I nodded.

“Deep breaths. Relax.”

I did as he instructed, regular, rhythmic breathing while he kissed his way around the soft folds of me. I moaned when he sucked my clit into his mouth, and it was all genuine. He took his time, soft growls of pleasure ramping up my own, and I soon forgot about any embarrassment, writhing against his mouth as he played me with expert care. I let out a hiss as he slid two fingers inside. “You’re tight, Lydia, so fucking tight. You’re going to feel so fucking good around my cock.” A third finger took my breath, and I started to jerk against him, adding friction. “This may feel strange, Cat, relax.” He curled his fingers inside me, pressing tight, and the pressure felt so weird, almost a low ache, but not quite painful. He worked his hand in a solid rhythm, slowly at first, until the beat overtook me and I was reaching for him, consumed by primal need I’d never felt before, and then the unthinkable happened. I needed to pee. Really bad. Really, really fucking bad. I gripped at his wrist, but he didn’t ease up.

“I need the toilet,” I rasped. “Sorry, James, I need to go.”

“You don’t, Lydia, trust me.”

Panic bloomed beneath lust. “I do, James. I really need to pee.”

“You don’t.”

I whimpered as he picked up pace a little more, pressure building. “James...”

He smiled as he pressed a hand hard on my lower belly, right on my bladder. “Piss, Lydia, if you need to, don’t fight it. Let it go.”

“I can’t...”

“You can. It isn’t piss, believe me, but even if it is...” He pressed harder, and pumped his fingers with renewed urgency until something inside me went crazy. My feet thrashed about on the bed, scuffing at the sheets for grip. “Let it go, Lydia, let it out.”

I didn’t recognise the noises coming from me: weird groans and wheezes as my hands gripped at the bed, at him, anywhere I could reach. “James!”

“That’s it, Cat, that’s it...”

The noises, oh my God the noises, slurping wet noises, all from me, but I couldn’t control it, couldn’t stop. I exploded, swearing and gritting my teeth and hissing out air, bucking and jerking and kicking at the bed. My hands flattened against his back, fingers desperate for grip. He kept playing me, all the way through, keeping up a perfect rhythm until I flopped down lifeless, gasping for breath.