Head On (The Head On Trilogy) (12 page)

I wanted to say something, but I also knew it wasn't my place. I'd have to wait for him to speak, or - failing that - we'd just have to do this all in silence.

Suddenly he put his hands firmly on my ass and lifted himself out of the chair, wincing with pain as his battered body began to support my weight. I gripped my legs tight around his waist as he carried me over to the large oak table by the shuttered windows. As he lay me down, with a few narrow steaks of light breaking through from the outside world, I opened my legs as wide as possible and watched him haul his damaged, painful body on top of me. Within seconds, he was inside me again, and this time there was a new level of passion and determination in his eyes. He immediately started fucking me properly, sliding in and out as he kissed my neck. I ran my hands over his tight, muscular back, but I couldn't help noticing several rough scars, some of them still with stitches in the flesh from his car crash the other day. Moving my hands down onto his impossibly firm ass, I squeezed tight and felt the full force of his passion as he fucked me harder and harder. I couldn't help but realize that he was seemingly consumed by his need to make love to me, and I could feel that every thrust seemed to be giving him greater and greater pleasure.

"Cum," he whispered.

I opened my mouth to tell him that I wasn't sure I could reach orgasm, but suddenly I realized that it was already starting to build. It was as if that single word, uttered from his lips, had done what a thousand thrusts from Robert Foxington-Chambers could never have achieved. I felt the pleasure building in my clitoris, getting tighter and tighter in anticipation of the explosion to follow. Unable to even breathe properly, I kept my hands on his ass as I felt him fucking me harder and harder, and although I was trying to slow my orgasm's growth, in an attempt to make this moment last longer, I quickly realized that I had no chance. Tightening my legs around his waist, I arched my back and let out a breathless gasp as I reached the very edge of the orgasm, driven by the engine of his passion as he finally came deep inside my pussy. I felt his ass become impossibly tight as he let out a gasp with each thrust, and I felt his penis throb as he released wave after wave of hot, sticky semen deep into my body. Finally, although I'd been trying to hold back my own orgasm, it finally exploded, filling me with the absolute greatest pleasure of my life. It was as if some secret force was punching its way through my torso, starting in my crotch and forcing its way to the rest of my body. I gripped him more tightly than ever between my legs, holding my breath as I felt the last waves of pleasure rippled through my flesh, and finally I realized that it was over.

He kept his face close to mine. I listened to him breathing as I felt him still throbbing inside my vagina. Beyond the window, there was the faintest hint of the city's noise, while there was the sound of footsteps elsewhere in the apartment.

"Are we alone?" I whispered.

"For now," he replied, slowly slipping his wet, sticky penis out of me and allowing its hardness to rest against my inner thigh.

I ran my hands along his back and once again felt the hard, sharp wire sticking out of his stitches. It was a shock to realize that he must have come close to more serious injuries, perhaps even death.

"How bad is the pain?" I asked.

Ignoring me, he climbed off the table and stood naked in the darkness.

I waited, with my legs still wide open. I felt as if I couldn't do anything, couldn't make even a single move, without his explicit permission. If he never said another word again, I might just stay in this position forever, until I starved to death.

"You'll have to get dressed," he said solemnly. "There'll be people here soon."

"People?" I asked, surprised that anyone was set to interrupt us. Nevertheless, I could hear distant voices, and I realized with a degree of alarm that he was right. "Who?"

"It's nothing," he said, limping over to the far end of the room and opening a cupboard. He started getting dressed, but with his damaged body he was clearly struggling. "I need you to help me with this," he said eventually, after several attempts to get his shirt on.

Getting off the table, I started to walk over to him.

"Take the dressing gown I was wearing," he said. "Put it on."

"I don't -"

"Put it on!" he shouted. "Like I said," he continued, lowering his voice, "there are people coming. I don't want them seeing you naked."

I stopped in my tracks, stunned by his anger. After a moment, I grabbed the dressing gown and wrapped it around my body. Once the cord was tied, I went over to join Parkin, and I began to help him into his shirt. It was a slow, careful job, and he winced several times. I wasn't sure of the extent of his injuries, but I did the best job I could manage and he didn't seem to have any major complaints.

"You'll stay here once I'm gone," he said quietly.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"You'll be here when I get back," he continued.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't make me say everything twice," he said tensely as I buttoned his shirt, covering his fine, smooth chest. "You'll be here when I get back. You'll wait."

"I will."

"I know."

He stepped into his underwear and waited while I pulled them up, and then I helped him into his trousers.

"You're going to marry me," he said after a moment.

I buttoned his trousers closed and slid the zipper up. "Yes," I said after a moment, trying not to let him see that my body was trembling.

"Not yet," he added. "The timing for all of this isn't great, so it'll have to wait until I've dealt with certain other problems. It's regrettable, but I'm afraid regrets aren't enough to change the world, so you'll just have to deal with the complications."

"Yes," I said, my voice trembling as I realized that I'd just got engaged again, albeit in somewhat unusual circumstances.

"You're not a prostitute," he continued. "You never were. I knew it from the moment I saw you, but I wasn't quite sure what was happening."

"You're right," I said. There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but I couldn't quite get them out.

"You'll have to give birth to our children," he said, wincing with pain as I helped him into his jacket. "At least three."

"Yes," I said, hearing footsteps getting closer in another part of the apartment.

"You'll wait for me," he continued.

I nodded.

There was a knock at the door.

"Drake Parkin!" a voice called out. "It's midday!"

"Who's that?" I asked, my heart racing.

Parkin opened his mouth to answer, but he paused for a moment. "This isn't over," he said finally. "This is just very bad timing, but it's not over." He paused. "You won't run after me. You won't call out. You won't cry or make a scene. You won't even try to contact me while... You'll just... wait for me. You'll be right here when I get back."

I nodded, even though I still wasn't entirely sure what he meant.

"Drake Parkin!" the voice called again. "I know you're in there! You need to open this door immediately!"

Parkin stared at me for a moment, before leaning closer and planting a delicate kiss on my cheek. With that, he turned and walked slowly, calmly over to the door. He paused for a moment, before pulling it open.

"Drake Parkin," said the man waiting outside, "pursuant to the decision of the ninth district court, I'm here to escort you to a federal corrections facility where you are to serve a five-year sentence for your part in financial irregularities and... Well, you know all that. Come on, time to get going." He placed a hand on Parkin's arm, and two police officers stepped into view.

I wanted to run over to him, to ask him what the hell was happening, but I couldn't. After all, he'd told me to stay right here, and I couldn't disobey him. Not now. Not ever. And I trusted him implicitly and completely. I didn't even care what those men were saying about a district court or financial irregularities; those words came from a different world, one that seemed to exist a million miles away.

Parkin glanced back at me for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, and then he allowed himself to be led out of the apartment.

I stood completely still, listening to the sound of footsteps getting further and further away. Eventually, there was nothing around me but silence. My mind was racing, but Parkin's words had instilled a strange kind of calm in my heart. He'd seemed so certain that everything was going to be okay, and I believed him. I could feel panic and fear and anger bubbling away deep in my soul, but somehow I was able to keep them bottled up. It was as if Parkin's words had been enough to let me take greater control of my mind and body. I felt stronger than I'd ever felt before, and I was absolutely certain that I could wait for him.

Hearing my phone ring, I realized it was probably Donna again. Instead of going over and retrieving the phone from my clothes, I just let it ring until finally it stopped. I really didn't have the time or energy to engage with Donna right now. She'd never understand.
No-one
could understand, not from the outside world.

I took a deep breath. Five years. All he told me was that I had to wait for him. He didn't give me any more instructions, any other information... Just wait for him. I keep running over and over his words, wondering if I'd missed anything, but finally I realized that his instructions had been deceptively simple. He wanted me to wait for him, right here, and that was exactly what I was going to do. To the letter.

Standing alone in the dark, silent room, I slowly closed my eyes and began to wait.

C
OMING SOON

Hold On

(The Head On Trilogy book 2)

Hold Tight

(The Head On Trilogy book 3)

Bonus

Extract from

Whatever It Takes

by

Sophie Newsome

Chapter One

"Where is everyone?" asks Dodo, sitting on a stool in the middle of my kitchen.

"They're not coming," I say, sitting on another stool directly facing her. I'm trying really,
really
hard to stay serious. This isn't a moment for jokes and laughter. This is a matter of life and death. I'm going to save Dodo's life right here, right now, whether she likes it or not.

She frowns and holds out a cake. "You said there was a party, Marie."

"I lied," I tell her.

She pauses for a moment. "You lied?"

I nod. "I lied."

"Huh." She pauses for a moment. "Why'd you do that?"

"Why do you think I did it?"

She stares blankly at me. "Let me get this straight," she says after a moment. "You told me there was a party, and you got me all excited to come over, and I stopped off on the way and bought a cake... Which I never do, by the way. I'm not the kind of person who buys cake at the store. The cashier definitely noticed. I could see it in her eyes. She clocked that I was buying a cake and that it's not my usual behavior... And now I get here and it's just you, and you're telling me you lied and there was never any party, so I didn't need to buy the cake at all."

I nod again. "That is exactly correct, Dodo."

There's an awkward silence. "Okay, so... no offense," she continues, "but..." She looks at her watch. "It's one o'clock. You wanna go get lunch down by the marina? I have to be somewhere at three -"

"No," I say, maintaining eye contact with her. "I do not want to go and get lunch down by the marina. Not today, anyway. Maybe one day when you're better."

She stares at me. "When I'm... better?"

"This is an intervention," I tell her. "Are you familiar with the concept of an intervention, Dodo?"

Another awkward pause. "It's for, like, alcoholics," she says cautiously.

"It's for people with addictions," I reply. "Not just alcohol. It can be for people with drug problems too."

She smiles nervously. "You think I'm a drug addict?"

"Yes," I tell her. Damn it, it feels so good to finally say what I've been thinking for so long. "I think you're addicted to illegal narcotics, and as your best friend, I'm not willing to let you slide down into that pit of depravity. So... I'm staging an official intervention."

She sighs. "I'm not using drugs..."

"Yes you are," I say.

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes," I say firmly, "you are."

"No," she replies equally firmly, "I'm really not."

"I can prove it," I say. "First off, you don't have a proper job but you have lots of money. You keep offering to lend me cash to cover my bills. You insist on paying for everything if we go out for a drink. You buy expensive cakes in the middle of the day."

"This was, like, ten dollars," she says, looking down at the strawberry cheesecake.

"Whatever," I reply. "Then there's the fact that it's always cash. I've seen you pulling out wads and wads of cash from your purse to pay for stuff. It's like that TV show about the guy who cooks meth. I'm not stupid, Dodo. You're quite clearly using drugs and..." I take a deep breath. "It's my opinion that you're also involved in the production and distribution of illegal -"

"Oh for fuck's sake," she says, laughing, "are you serious?"

"Deadly, Dodo," I say, keeping my eyes trained on her. "Deadly serious."

She smiles. "You're so far off base, Marie," she says. "Listen, I'm truly grateful that you care enough to do this, but you've got it completely wrong."

"Then tell me where the money comes from," I say. "Clear it up for me, Dodo. Tell me where you get the money from."

She sighs. "I do little jobs here and there."

"Like a plumber?" I stare at her. "Is that your story? Are you trying to tell me you're suddenly a plumber?"

"Of course not," she says.

"No-one pays that kind of money, cash, for little jobs here and there," I tell her. "No-one."

She looks across the room. "Shouldn't there be more people here?"

"Why?" I ask.

"Well... Aren't interventions usually about getting a person's closest friends and family together so they can tell them what they need to hear?"

I clear my throat. "Everyone else was busy."

She laughs again. "No, Marie. Everyone else called bullshit on your claim that I'm some kind of druggie. They told you this was a pile of crap."

"It doesn't matter what everyone else thinks," I point out. "It matters what I think. I want you to get your coat and come with me to a clinic where they can talk to you about substance abuse and -"

"I'm not into drugs!" she says, clearly getting a little agitated. "Look into my eyes, Marie! Do you seriously think I'm using drugs?" She gets off her stool and walks over to me. "Do you see
any
physical signs at all? Do I see spaced out? Do I have needle marks on my arms?" She throws shoves her handbag into my lap. "Look in there. Do you see
anything
that looks like it might be to do with drugs? Is there -" Suddenly a concerned look crosses her face, as if she's suddenly remembered something. "There's nothing in there," she says, reaching out in an attempt to grab the handbag back from me.

"Isn't there?" I say, leaping up and rushing across the kitchen. I open the handbag and tip the contents out onto the table. Dodo tries to gather it all up quickly, but I push her away as I desperately search through all her stuff. She's quite clearly remembered something that she doesn't want me to see. "What's in here, Dodo?" I ask. "Drugs? Needles? A crack pipe?"

"Please," she says, trying to reach past me, "you don't even know what a crack pipe looks like!"

"But you clearly do," I reply.

"Only from TV," she says. "Now give me my -"

"What's this?" I ask, picking up a piece of paper. She immediately tries to snatch it away, but I turn and start reading.

"Marie, it's not what you think," she says, sounding worried.

It only takes me a moment to read the paper and work out what it's all about. It's the result of an HIV test, dated within the past week. For a moment, I feel absolutely terrified that she's sick, but then I see that the result came back negative. "You're not ill," I say, turning to her. "That's what this means, right? You're not ill?"

"I'm not ill," she says, grabbing the piece of paper back from me. "Thanks for sticking your nose into my business."

I stare at her for a moment. The drugs theory is falling apart fast, but something's clearly not right. "My best friend goes for an HIV test and it's not my business?" I say, feeling genuinely hurt that she'd try to cut me out like this. "What's wrong, Dodo? Are you sure you haven't been doing drugs and sharing needles?"

"I don't use drugs," she says firmly. "Never have, never will. Nothing. Not even weed. The only drugs I ever use are alcohol and coffee. In fact, I don't even smoke cigarettes, so I guess you could say I'm cleaner than you!"

"I quit two weeks ago!" I remind her.

"And how's that going for you?" she asks.

"Fine!" I shout. It takes a moment for me to pull myself together and calm down. "Dodo, how long have we been friends?"

"Years," she replies.

"Since we were in kindergarten," I remind her. "We're both thirty years old now. That's more than two decades of friendship. We're not just friends; we're
best
friends.
You were the maid of honor at my wedding. I bailed you out after you punched that cop. You're godmother to my five-year-old son. I drove you to the vet when your hamster was sick. You -"

"I get it," she says. "Really, I do. Everyone knows it. You're the good one and I'm the bad one. You're the one who got married and had a kid and settled down and took on a mountain of debt, and I'm the one who stayed single and child-free and sleeps around and has one nights stands and..." She pauses for a moment. "I'm not on drugs, Marie," she says firmly, and with such force of character that I actually start to believe her. "But I just know that if I tell you what I really do, you'll judge me."

"When have I ever judged you?" I ask.

She stares at me.

"Okay," I continue, "maybe I'm a little judgmental at times, but only because I care about you." I feel tears welling up behind my eyes. "I just want to know that you're okay, Dodo."

"I'm fine," she replies tensely.

"Then why the HIV test?" I ask. "And where does the money come from?"

She takes a deep breath. "I take an HIV test every month," she says after a moment.

"Why?" I ask. "What could you possibly be doing that would -" Suddenly it hits me. "Are you a prostitute, Dodo?"

"No!" she says, looking shocked. "Hell, no! What I do is totally, one hundred per cent legal. But... I don't want you to hate me, Marie, and I think that you'll really be angry if I tell you."

I smile. "Well now you've
got
to tell me."

She nods sadly. "Before I tell you the truth, you have to promise not to freak out. It's really kinda fun when you think about it."

"Tell me," I say.

She sighs. "It's totally safe, okay? Everyone has to get an HIV test at the beginning of the month, and the environment is totally controlled and secure. It's actually fun and -"

"Tell me," I say.

"I'm an adult movie actress."

I frown. "You're a what?"

"Adult movies," she continues. "I act in them. You know... Sex films? Dirty movies?"

I stare at her. "Naked films?"

She smiles. "Naked films."
"You're naked?" I ask, shocked. "In films?"

"Yeah," she replies.

I feel like my head is spinning. "With other naked people?" I ask eventually.

She nods. "With other naked people. Doing naked things."

"Having sex?" I ask.

"Having sex," she says.

"On camera?"

"Yes, on camera!" she says. She looks extremely nervous, as if she's terrified that I'll react badly. "Marie, please tell me you don't hate me."

There's an awkward pause. There's so much I want to say to her. I want to hug her and hit her and scream at her all at once. "Of course I don't hate you," I reply eventually, putting my arms around her. "I just... I'm worried about you. How long have you been doing this?"

"About six months," she says. "Actually, I got the idea from you."

"From me?" I say, shocked, pulling away from the hug. "I've never even
watched
a dirty movie -"

"Really?" she replies. "Well, anyway, that's weird, but it's not what I meant. But do you remember that time when we were talking about careers, and I said I wanted to do something I enjoy? Well, I got to thinking about it and I figured the thing I enjoy most in life is sex, so I answered a few adverts and, well, it turns out I'm pretty good at it." She smiles nervously. "So really, it's all your fault."

I take a deep breath, trying not to freak out. "So let me get this straight," I say calmly. "You get naked and you have sex with other naked people, and you get filmed doing this, and you get paid, and then the films are sold to people?"

"Mainly on the internet," she says. "I mean, I don't do any of the really weird, freaky shit. No donkeys or whips, no spikes, no chains, no blood. Just good, clean, slightly adventurous sex. And you know what? It sells really well."

"And you don't mind all those people watching you?" I ask. I just can't imagine how she can do such a thing. I don't even like making eye contact with people at the grocery store; how can Dodo be happy to have people staring at her while she's doing the most intimate, personal thing with another human being?

She shrugs. "It's fine. Besides, I don't use my real name. I have a fake name."

"What is it?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "No way."

"Come on," I reply, "you have to tell me."

"Absolutely not," she says. "Because then you'll be tempted to look up my films online. That's something I'm not prepared to let happen."

"I won't look," I insist.

"Forget it," she replies.

I pause, trying to absorb all this information. "Why?" I ask after a moment. "Why do you do it?"

"Money," she says. "I'm pulling in two grand a week, cash in hand. I do ten hours' work, maximum. I work with totally legitimate guys, everyone's cool, and I kinda enjoy it most of the time." She stares at me. "Marie? Are we still cool?"

"Yeah," I reply. "I mean... Yeah. It's a lot to come to terms with, but we're... cool."

"It's totally safe," she says, "and I've never been hurt ever. It's kind of fun."

"No crack dens?" I ask.

"No crack dens," she replies.

"You make it sound like it's just a normal job," I say.

"It
is
!" she insists. "Look," she adds, with a sigh, "I have a gig lined up for this afternoon. Nothing too extreme, just a couple of hours' work." She pauses for a moment. "If you want to see that it's totally safe, and that it's clean, and that it's not dodgy, there's only really one way you can be absolutely certain." She smiles. "Come to the shoot with me today. I think it's better if you don't stay for the actual filming, but at least you can see where I work and meet the people. What do you say? Do you wanna come and check the place out and see that it's not dodgy?"