The Bad Boy Wants Me: A Bad Boy Romance (12 page)

Cash

‘A
re you two coming in?’ Tori’s aunt asks after yanking open the door so suddenly that Tori almost falls into the house.

Automatically I reach out and grab Tori’s arm while she finds her footing again.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, dear. Were you leaning against the door?’ her clueless aunt asks.

I try to keep a straight face as Tori mumbles something indistinct and her aunt turns towards me. ‘Would you like to come in for a drink?’

‘Actually, I’ve got to hit the road.’

‘It’ll only take a minute.’

I look at Tori and she shrugs with an expression that says, your funeral.

I turn on the charm. ‘All right, but I do have to leave soon.’

I step through the hallway, and what do you know, there are about ten people in the living room. All of them are staring at me and smiling. Aww fuck. I glance at Tori and she grins. For the next ten minutes I sign autographs. Even before the ink on the last one is dry, I stand, say my goodbyes, and turn towards Tori. 

‘Maybe Tori can see me out.’

‘Of course,’ she says, her voice sweeter than sugar.

We go out of the front door and I turn to her.

‘Thanks for the warning,’ I tell her.

‘I’m sure you’d do the same for me,’ she says.

‘Damn right,’ I say and grab her by the forearms.

‘Don’t you dare,’ she warns.

I bend my head and kiss her on the lips. I make it long and passionate. Behind the windows there are many open mouths. Many questions that need answers. Poor Tori.

‘You’re going straight to hell, you know?’ she spits.

‘Been headed that way for some time now,’ I say, tipping my head at her. ‘Sleep well, Wildcat,’ I say with a wink.

She slams the door before I get to my car. It just makes me smile wider.  I have a quick glance around the area. No paparazzi hiding in the bushes or among the dustbins. All is well today.

From the car I call my dad and tell him I’ve got to talk to him. He asks me to go over so I drive to his house. After Britney goes to bed we go to his study to share a cognac. Then I tell him what Tori had told me about Britney’s art. To my astonishment my father breaks down in tears. I never realized that even after all these years my mother’s death still hurts him so much.

‘I can talk to Brit about it,’ I offer.

‘No. No. That’s my job, son. That’s my job,’ he says sadly.

By the time I leave it is nearly one in the morning. On my way to the car Gavin calls. There is a party. Do I want to go?

I want to fuck, Tori.
‘Nah, man. I’m bushed. Have fun.’

‘What, you kidding me? Francine is here,’ he says.

I think about Francine. Long dark hair, fantastic tits, sucks cock like a top notch pro and likes it up the ass.

‘Enjoy her,’ I say and end the call.

My cock is not hard for Francine. It’s straining in my jeans for Tori. She’s the only fuck I want. The only party I want to go to. For a second I stop in wonder. I don’t sound like myself at all. Not one little bit.

I get into my car and roar through the streets of London. In my mind Tori is on her knees. She opens her goddamn beautiful mouth and asks, ‘Do you mind if I give you a blowjob? I’m dying for a taste of your cock.’ I see her eyes open wide and staring up at mine. Her mouth and tongue hungry for me. I knock her hand off my dick and take control. Thrusting into her wicked sexy mouth.

Making her take it all in. Fucking her, and fucking her, and fucking her until I explode inside her. Then I hold her face to my cock and let her drain me. Every last wild, dumb drop of cum.

‘Now make me yours,’ she says and opens her legs to show me her sweet pink pussy. Fucking gorgeous.

Fuck, it’s like I lick my lips and taste her pussy.

I get to my apartment, close the door, and go straight to my sound-proofed room. I close the door and start playing my music. The rest of the world dissolves. It is like I have taken a really good hit. I’m good and chilled. I stop thinking of the sweet, wild taste of Tori Diamond.

I plug in my guitar. It’s been a long time since I played it. In here the music I make is real. It won’t be the crap I’m forced to sing for the rest of the world. In here I won’t let the music down.

Tori

B
y the time I return to the Hunter’s residence on Sunday evening, Britney has already been told about her twin brother. She comes to my room and I see straight away that there is something different about her. A new inner-confidence.

Now she knows that there is nothing wrong with her. She truly did suffer a loss, and even though she was not told about it, her body knew and suffered. All these years she was mourning for her twin and did not know. Now that she understands it perhaps she can start to heal. For a second she stands there looking at me, then she rushes into the room and throws her thin arms around my neck. I hug her back tightly. It’s a funny ole life. I never dreamed I would come to love Britney like this, and yet I have. I realize now that even if I leave England tonight, never to come back, at least I have done some good to her.

‘Thank you,’ she says simply and pulls away from me.

I shake my head. ‘I did nothing.’

‘Dad’s right. You’re special,’ she says.

I flush with pleasure. I like Britney’s dad. He’s a nice man. He reminds me of an absent-minded, kindly professor. ‘You know when I told you that twin story. I hadn’t heard about your twin then.’

‘I know that. Anyway that’s a cute story. It taught me something,’ she says with a happy smile.

‘Good. How do you feel now?’ I ask.

‘I feel as if I finally figured out a 10,000-piece jigsaw puzzle that I’ve been working on for seventeen years. I don’t feel happy or victorious, but I do feel vindicated. I don’t ever have to think that I am weird, or there’s something wrong with me anymore. I’m just like everybody else, only I lost my other half.’

‘Yeah?’ I say, smiling at her.

‘Yeah, and you know what else, I feel stronger and more sure about the future.’

‘Oh, Britney. I’m so happy for you.’

She lowers her voice. ‘I guess while I’m here we might as well discuss the surprise birthday party that Dad is throwing for me this Saturday.’

‘Huh? You know about that?’

‘Duh! Of course. Dad’s got a mark on his calendar saying, ‘Britney’s surprise birthday party.’’

I laugh. That is exactly the kind of thing I would have expected from Britney’s dad.

‘Don’t you think you should tell me about it so I can make some of the important decisions, and it doesn’t turn out to be a complete disaster?’

I laugh. ‘No flies on you,’ I say.

It is nearly midnight and I’m already in bed when Cash texts me.

Meet me?

As soon as I see the message my heart starts pounding.

Where r u?

His answer is instantaneous.

Around the corner.

My hands are shaking with excitement as I type.

C u soon.

I don’t know where he was when he texted me, but I have only enough time to leap out of bed and get dressed before the door opens and he is standing there, scruff on his face and some kind of dangerous in his eyes. Bad ass sexy, he is.

‘Hey,’ I whisper.

He doesn’t speak, just walks up to me and molds his body to mine. ‘God, I missed your body,’ he whispers hoarsely. Our eyes lock, his eat me up. He bends his head and inhales the smell of my hair.

Thank God I washed it this evening.

‘Come on,’ he says. ‘I’m taking you to a party.’

‘What?’ I blurt out. ‘I’m not dressed for a party.’

‘We’ll dress at my place,’ he says.

‘What do you mean?’

He lays his fingers on my lips. ‘Shhh … just trust me.’

Suddenly, the night seems to hold the most exciting adventure.

‘OK,’ I whisper, and we tip-toe out of his father’s house.

Outside the front door, he stops to light a cigarette and puts it between his lips.

‘No security again?’ I say.

‘Nope, but they’ll be around later.’ He lights up, inhales deeply and we walk down the street to where his car is parked. He flicks away the cigarette and we get in.

It is a strange feeling driving through the mostly empty streets of London, the top down, the wind in my hair. I turn to look at Cash and I cannot help the sensation that my heart will break with all the love I feel for him. He turns towards me and smiles crookedly.

His apartment is in Park Lane, on the top floor of an old building. We take the lift and Cash puts his key in the door. His apartment is like his house. All glass and modern. The living room is a vast empty area. The walls are lined with couches. Perfect for a party. There is a large modern painting on one wall.

‘Where’s the party?’ I ask.

‘In easily the most unique club in London. It’s called The Box.’ He adds, ‘No mobile phones or cameras allowed so everything that happens in The Box stays in The Box.’

He opens a door to a room where there is a bed with a whole load of shoe boxes on it, and a clothes rail on wheels.

‘Go on. Find something there to wear. The dress code is glam/posh.’

‘How did you know my size?’

‘You left your dress behind at my house. I gave it to my PA, Alison. What you see there is her best effort.’

I stare at him. He went to a lot of trouble ‘Thank you,’ I murmur.

‘I’ll be next door getting my gear on.’

He shuts the door and I rifle through the clothes. O la la! Each one is quite simply to-die-for stunning. I have never owned anything so expensive or so fine in all my life. It’s really hard to choose, but eventually I settle for a gorgeous black and gold dress.

The label says Orchidees Noires and it is very Great Gatsbyish. The bodice is made entirely of burnished gold flowers, with shimmering gold thread holding  the flowers together. It is sleeveless with a deep neckline.  There are no flowers at the waist, then they start again on the short billowing tulle skirt. At hip level the flowers stop and the rest of the skirt is pure black tulle.

I take off my jeans and notice that my legs are full of tiny gold hair. Hmmm … I stand in front of the mirror undecided. It’ll be a bit embarrassing to get a shaver off Cash, but what the hell? I’m not going to spoil such a magnificent dress with unshaven legs. 

Tori

I
leave the room I am in and go past the living room to the next bedroom. The door is open and I walk in. The room is empty, but it must be Cash’s bedroom because there are clothes laid out on the bed. I go towards the en-suite bathroom and stand at the doorway.

Cash has had his shower, his hair is wet and he is standing in front of the mirror with only a smallish towel around his hips. His face is full of shaving cream and there is only one strip that he has carved through the cream.

He freezes and we stare at each other in the mirror. It could have been really awkward me asking to borrow his shaver, so I smile and say, ‘Let me do that for you.’

I walk up to him and slide between him and the basin. There is a small smile tugging at his mouth. ‘I wasn’t planning on donating blood tonight,’ he says.

I take the razor from his unresisting hand. Very slowly I drag the razor down his cheek through the white foam.

His eyes never leave me.

‘Sometimes it’s a good idea to let someone else do the work,’ I whisper, as I dip the razor head in the sink filled with warm water and shake it to dislodge the cream and bits of hair. I run the razor down his face carefully, meticulously until every last hair is gone. Then I whip the towel from his hips, an act which makes his eyes widen, and use it to gently dab at his face.

‘See,’ I say softly, looking at his erect glory. ‘I was never after blood.’

His eyes are infused with lust. I feel wetness pool between my legs. He curls his large hands around my butt and lifts me up to the rim of the sink. He rips my panties off my body and opens my legs. Holding onto the thick knots of strong muscles in his shoulders, I bring my spread knees up almost to my shoulders.

He looks down between my legs, his eyes hot and hungry, and draws his fingers along my crack, already slick with juice.

I whimper.

He inserts a long finger into me.

‘Oh,’ I cry.

Laughing softly, he grabs my hips and thrusts so far into me my eyes widen and my mouth opens to a shocked O.

With his eyes blazing into mine he fucks me hard. The meaty sound of our flesh slapping, the sink creaking, and our grunts hit the marble tiles and echo around us.  He pounds me relentlessly until I feel as if an enormous engine is being switched on inside me and its blades are starting to turn. Faster and faster they go until I am practically vibrating with the intensity of the coming climax.

‘I’m coming,’ I cry as the machine starts throwing out sparks. Trembling, twisting and jerking, I fall into the same fantastic void he plunges into.

Against my ear, he laughs, a lovely deep rumble. ‘That was the best shave I ever had.’

He pulls out and his seed trickles out of me. He leans forward and bites my lower lip.

I lean back and look into his eyes. They are heavy-lidded and dark with sensuality, and I feel suddenly sad. This should be my man. I already know that I’ll never get over him.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asks.

I shake my head. ‘Nothing,’ I whisper. Twisting my body around, I pick up the razor from the ledge where I left it. ‘I was actually after this,’ I say.

‘Nicely done,’ he says.

His laughter warm and rich, follows me until I close the door of my room. Without wasting any time, I go directly into the en-suite bathroom. Sitting on the edge of the bathtub I shave my legs. Then I go back into the bedroom and get into the beautiful gold and black dress. It fits like a dream.

I stand in front of the mirror and gape at myself. Wow! Incredible. I almost cannot believe what I look like. Who’d believe that I could look like a movie star on a red carpet?

I run to the shoe boxes and open them all. I could have gone with a gold pair or even with the inferno booties that I have seen in a magazine, but I fall in love with a fabulous pair carrying a label I have never heard of. Sophia Webster.

They have heels made out of shiny poppy-colored balls, and are the closest shoes can get to a true confection. They wouldn’t have looked out of place in one of those old fashioned sweet shops. I secure the gold strap around my ankles and feel like a million dollars.

Quickly I open the other boxes. I find new cosmetics in one and in another I find hair accessories. I apply some smokey make-up to my eyes, a touch of blusher to the apples of my cheeks, and a slick of nude lip gloss. Then I put my hair up with some of the gold pins I find in the accessories box. I pull out a few loose tendrils to frame my face and neck. Then I walk over to the mirror and look at my reflection. The woman in the mirror doesn’t even look like me.

I take out my mobile and snap a couple of photos of myself to show Mom and Leah. There is a small black purse amongst the accessories. I drop the lip gloss, my credit card and my mobile into it and snap it shut. Picking up the black wrap that goes with the dress, I leave the room.

Cash is already in the living room. He’s wearing a cream dinner jacket with shawl lapels, a white dress shirt, a black silk bowtie, and slim cut black trousers. Everything is perfectly cut and gives him a rakish, devil-may-care appearance. At the sound of my arrival he turns, the bottle of beer on its way to his mouth stays suspended in the air. He doesn’t smile. Just stares at me as if even he can’t believe his eyes.

I feel myself start to flush.

He puts the beer bottle down on a counter and walks towards me. ‘Christ,’ he whispers.

I can see myself reflected in his eyes, an odd shaped pixie. I touch my hair self-consciously. ‘Am I overdressed or something?’

He smiles. A strange smile. ‘You’re not overdressed. You, Tori Diamond, are heartbreakingly beautiful.’

Time stands still. The world stops spinning. I even stop breathing.
Cash Hunter thinks I’m heartbreakingly beautiful.
Then I reach out a hand and pretend to straighten his already straight bowtie.

He holds out his elbow. ‘Shall we?’

I slip my hand through it.

‘I can’t get over your transformation, Wildcat,’ he murmurs, his eyes raking me from head to foot.

A stretch Mercedes with blacked out windows is waiting for us outside. As soon as we appear at the doorway, Cash’s security men — four enormous military types with sharp cold eyes — nod at him and snap into action. They rush towards the Mercedes and hold open the passenger doors. Cash settles me into the car, then goes around to the other side. As he slides in beside me, two black SUVs screech to a stop in front and at the back of the Mercedes.

I watch the burly men quickly pile into the two SUVs. They give the all clear signal and the Mercedes starts moving. We travel sandwiched between the two SUVs.

It is not a long journey to Brewer Street, right in the heart of Soho.