Memoirs of a Wild Child (8 page)

“What’s the point? We both want this don’t we?” I question, biting my lip seductively.

“Fuck, yeah we do. Turn over.”

My eyes widened excitedly and I rolled over onto my belly. I’d already taken off my shoes when I had to walk across the sand but was still fully dressed otherwise. Shane’s big, calloused hands ran up the backs of my legs and over my arse, and then he gripped the zip and pulled it down. It ran from the top to the bottom of my dress, and once it was undone, Shane gripped my hips and pulled me up onto all fours, letting my dress fall to the bed and leaving me kneeling there in my underwear.

“Fuck me, you’re hot,” he said appreciatively before squeezing both of my arse cheeks and then flipping me over onto my back. “I’ve just got to taste you, Pip, you’re fuckin’ glorious.”

I crawled backwards up the bed to make more room for him, and Shane gripped the sides of my knickers, wasting no time at all pulling them down my legs and off.

He picked up my right leg and kissed the arch of my foot, and then my ankle; he moved to kneel on the bed and gripped the underside of my knees, pushing them up towards my chest, exposing all of me to him. This was fast; we hadn’t even kissed, and now he was up close and personal with my arsehole. The speed was thrilling, I liked that Shane just wanted to get down to business.

He leant down and kissed the inside of my thighs, licking and sucking, up and down one and then the other, as he started to run a finger up and down my slit; fuck, he was good at this. He moaned at my wetness and slid a finger easily inside me. My hips rocked involuntary as he pushed the finger in and then out a couple of times.

Moving up to kiss my stomach and sides, Shane circled his wet fingers over my clit, gently and slowly; I sighed and moaned quietly, it was nice, and I was happy for this to go on as long as he wanted it to.

Two fingers pushed inside me, and I arched my back, begging for more, deeper, harder. Shane planted soft kisses on my pubic bone before he gently ran his tongue from my entrance to my clit and back again. Once he found my clit, Shane didn’t leave it alone for long; circling and flicking with his tongue, sucking, pinching between his lips, all while working two fingers inside me. It was clear to me, Shane liked going down on women; he really liked it. It was intense, and fast; I came hard pretty soon after he got doing.

I’ve got to hand him his dues; Shane could eat pussy like a fucking master.

We had sex, as per my rules, and it was good enough, but honestly Shane gave me the best head of my life, and it was worth keeping in touch just for that.

We went on a few dates and screwed a lot for the rest of my time in Australia; it wasn’t exclusive, and I managed to tick New Zealand, Ireland and Hawaii off my map while I was there, too. All in all, it was a great trip, and as I boarded my plane bound for Tokyo, I was exhausted.

I had some amazing work opportunities in Japan and found myself taking a different kind of photo in my free time too. I was focusing on soft against hard, a cherry blossom tree in front of a huge skyscraper, or a sweet little girl in pigtails next to a punk rocker with a Mohawk. I was learning every day. My work was getting better and better, and more and more people were noticing it.

I ticked Japan off the map a few times, and then I got an email inviting me to a meeting in Seattle in four weeks’ time. Chalk, a rock band, who were huge in the States, and just starting to make it in the UK had been in Japan when one of my shoot’s hit the magazine stands there. They liked my work and wanted to discuss working with me. It was a huge opportunity, and I couldn’t miss out on it, but I had to go home first.

When I arrived back in London, I had some loose ends to tie up. Some work to get finished and Shane was in town. He’d been booked to walk in a show during London Fashion Week, and it would have been rude not to get my rocks off while he was here.

I called him when I landed to see where he was and arranged to meet up for dinner.

“How was Japan?” Shane asked, smiling.

“Great, work went really well, and I felt really inspired there.”

“Yeah it’s great isn’t it, I love it. Haven’t been for ages, though.” Shane had already told me before I left Australia, that he had been to Japan. He travelled around Asia with some friends a few years ago; it was nice that I could talk about it knowing that he had been there and seen the things I had seen.

Shane came back to mine that night, and before I realised it, he had been there for three days, but by the time he was due to start work I was glad, it was getting too cosy.

He was crazy busy once the shows started, and I didn’t see much of him.  My bed wasn’t cold in that time though, it was fashion week, there were models all over town, and I was a photographer… it was like dropping a sugar cube into an ants’ nest. I was swarmed.

The last night of fashion week was an absolute blast, I went to an insane after-party and woke up next to two male models and two gorgeous female models. I couldn’t remember, exactly what had happened, but I ached from head to toe so knew it must have been good.

I went back to my place, ran a bath and chilled the fuck out, only to be disturbed after an hour by the doorbell ringing.

“Shane.” I was surprised as I opened the door wearing just a towel, and a little annoyed. You don’t just ‘show up’ at someone’s house, especially not someone you’ve only fucked a few times.

“Hey, I’m heading home tomorrow, and I just wanted to see you before I left.” He smiled and from behind his back, produced a bunch of red roses. I smiled to hide the bile rising in my throat; he wasn’t to know, but I fucking hate red roses.

“Wow, Shane, you didn’t have to.” I stepped aside to let him in and took the roses into the kitchen, putting them into a pint glass and filling it with water. I turned and saw him looking at me strangely, “I’ll arrange them properly later, can I get you a drink?” I changed the subject; there would be no ‘arranging’.

I poured us both a glass of wine and sat on the sofa. I was cold and wanted to get dressed, but thought we’d probably be fucking soon anyway so I might as well stay in the towel.

“I love you.”

I coughed as my drink went down the wrong hole, and Shane rushed to pat my back. “Oh my god, are you okay?” He asked in his smooth Australian accent, as I tried to move away and get my breath.

“You, do, not.” I gasped standing and patting my chest.

He stood, “Pippa, I do, I love you.” He stepped towards me, and I backed away. If this had carried on it would have turned into a Benny Hill sketch in my living room. I held out my hands to signal him to stop.

“Shane, I’m sorry, but that’s not what this is. I’m not going to melt because you buy me roses and say three little words to me; I’m not ‘that’ girl. I’m Pippa Carvalho, super slut and proud.” I smiled, I really was proud. “This is just sex; I thought you knew that.”

Shane tipped his head to the side a little and looked at me confused. “You’re serious?” He questioned.

“Completely,” I assured him, nodding, wide-eyed.

“Oh, well,” he took a moment to gather his thoughts, “Fuck it then; shall we?” he smiled that winning smile and gestured towards the bedroom. Yes, yes we bloody well shall!

Feeling a little kinky, and proud of him for chilling the fuck out, I let him shag me in the arse. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it; so it was worth it. He always got me off with his fingers whenever he used the back door, so I wasn’t complaining.

“So,” Shane took a drag of the joint in his hand and passed it to me as he blew the smoke upwards in a slow, controlled breath. “You really don’t do the whole, L O V E thing?” He spelled it out as though worried I might bolt, and I smiled, taking another drag as I moved to straddle him and put the joint between his lips.

“No,” I raked my fingers down his bare chest and felt his naked cock twitch underneath me, “It’s just not for me. I like sex; I like a lot of sex, with a lot of people.” I circled his belly button before continuing downwards, moving my fingers between my legs and moaning a little, playfully. Oh, he liked that. His fingers gripped my hips and I started to move up so that he could put the condom on that he was reaching for.

“No,” he said, sharply, putting the packet in his fingers back down onto the bedside table. I looked at him; I don’t do bareback. “Make yourself come,” he continued huskily. Oh… well alright then.

I fingered myself, with his cock twitching underneath me; I moaned and writhed and shook as I came. When I closed my eyes and took a slow deep breath, Shane threw me off him so that I was face down, ass up on the mattress. Within a few seconds, he was sheathed and ploughing into me. One thing about Shane, he didn’t take it slow; he liked it hard and fast, and he was fucking good at it.

That was the last time I saw Shane. If I hadn’t started seeing Ben, maybe we’d have hooked up again at some point, but once I fell in love, my little black book went out the window.

I flew to Seattle as planned a couple of weeks after fashion week. When I landed, it was raining, and I nodded to myself, pleased that it had lived up to that expectation.

I had a few days before my meeting with the manager of Chalk, so I wanted to see what Seattle had to offer. I did all the touristy things, like a total nerd I walked around with my guide book visiting museums, the Space Needle, the fish market and even took a couple of boat trips. I really liked the vibe there and considered the thought of maybe relocating. Everyone back in England was settling down, getting married and moving in together. They didn’t need me on their doorsteps, and I would only be a plane journey away.

Even as I thought it though, I knew it wouldn’t happen; Not until I knew Rosie was happy. Rafe had found someone special in Matthew, and I knew they’d be okay. But Rosie, I didn’t expect it to last with Michael, and when it came crashing down, I needed to be there.

When the time came to get ready for my meeting, I was strictly business. I might be fun and free in my personal life, but I take my work very seriously. Models are generally terrified of me; I don’t fuck about; I get in, get the shots and get out. It’s what we’re all paid to do.

I pulled on my black, skinny jeans and purple, turtleneck, simple makeup, just some clear lip gloss, black eyeliner and a bit of mascara and blusher, and brushed my long straight black hair. I’ve had the same hairstyle my whole life, but I have no desire to change it. It suits me, and men love it.

I called a taxi and made my way to the restaurant we had agreed to meet at. I had no idea who to look for, so hoped the staff would be able to point me in the right direction.

I stepped inside, it was busy but looked nice.

“Can I help, Miss?” a well presented young lady asked me, obviously noticing my uncertainty.

I smiled, “I hope so. I’m meeting a Mr Jenkins, but I have no idea what he looks like.” I shrugged my shoulders, embarrassed and hopeful; and she smiled.

“Right this way, Miss Carvalho.”

She was expecting me. Relieved, I followed the girl through to the back of the restaurant and to a private nook where two men were seated.

“Miss Carvalho.” The better dressed of the two men stood to greet me, clearly pleasantly surprised by my appearance as he held my hand, a little longer than appropriate for a handshake, and looked me up and down.

As though realising that his eyes had lingered a little too long on my chest, he visibly shook his head and turned to his companion,

“Sorry, I’m Phil, Phil Jenkins, and let me introduce Dax, he’s the lead guitarist and singer with Chalk, and it was him who brought your work to me.”  I smile at Dax, who stayed seated, greeting me with a simple ‘hey’ and a nod of his head. “Please, sit.” Phil gestured towards the seat opposite him and Dax.

Dax had a really interesting look, not the kind I’d normally go for. Even sitting, I could see that he was tall and slim, pretty pale skinned and my Google searches had told me that he was covered from neck to ankle in black and grey tattoos. His look and attitude were really on trend, and the camera would absolutely love him, I thought as I looked him over.

Dax and Phil both looked up at me, and Phil gestured for a waitress, to come and take a drinks order. I eyed Dax as he read the menu on the table; his eyes were grey and his hair a black, organised mess. He wore a band t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up a little, and he did something funny to my insides. He was edgy, new, some rare delicacy I had never tasted before, and I wanted to taste it; all of it.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Miss. Carvalho, an absolute pleasure. I don’t want to beat around the bush here; we have a proposition for you.”  I was intrigued, and my facial expression must have said so, as he leant forward, mirroring my posture. “We would like for you to come on tour with us. We’ve agreed to release a book, documenting the tour, and your work is amazing. Dax loves what you’re able to achieve with a camera, and doesn’t really want any other photographer to get the job.”

I sat back in my chair, looked at Dax, who made eye contact and smiled briefly and then I looked back at Phil.

“So, you want me to tour the States with you?”

“It’s a World Tour, Miss. Carvalho.”

“Call me Pippa, please,” I’d answered before I realised what he had said. “How long?” I asked, finding myself interested in the opportunity to spread my wings and try something new, creatively.