The room was pretty silent. Ryan smiled. “You know when I said I wouldn’t be shocked anymore, I lied.” He turned to the other people in the room. “This is Courtney.”
At which they all went, “Aah.”
“Courtney, this is Tom.” A brown-haired guy with a nest of a beard waved at me. “Oliver.” A divinely cute blond gave me a grin. “Rich.” A man who looked quiet in the dark-haired manner of a serial killer nodded to me. “And this is Jay.” Jay’s big blue eyes ate me up with a welcoming twinkle, so I decided I liked him the best.
“Hi guys!” I waved at them all with both hands, my voice still raw from the laughing and drinking. I forgot that the t-shirt skimmed my bottom, so when I lifted my arms I exposed the leopard print. I tugged the t-shirt down, but it was far too late.
They looked from my crotch to Ryan and back again.
“I’m going to get dressed.”
“There’s a bag in the bathroom for you,” Ryan advised me, his tone light with amusement. I decided to stay in the corridor for a moment to hear what they said.
“Fucking sexy little thing there, mate.”
“Very. What does her bra say?”
“Fuck this,” Ryan drawled. I gasped in indignation until he added, “Don’t look at my girlfriend’s underwear again.”
“Come on! It was on display. Sure you can’t let me have a look?”
“No.”
“You would, Tom—you could donate yourself to scientific research you haven’t shagged for so long.”
“Piss off!”
“The wit of that comeback.”
“She’s strange.”
“And what about her showing her underwear gave you that idea, Rich?”
“She just is, Jay. And when you’re crying into your beer in a few weeks’ time, Ryan, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Thanks,” came Ryan’s droll response. “Nice to know you’re here for me.”
“It’s all right.”
“I meant that sarcastically.”
“Oh, right.”
That was in turns utterly insulting and rather flattering. I disappeared into the bathroom and tried to make a better impression. In the bag was my facial wash and face cream, a change of underwear, a brand new pair of denim shorts, some flip-flops and an off-the-shoulder top. He must have run into H&M this morning. My boyfriend has good taste, I thought. I scrubbed my face clean, showered, cleaned my teeth, and deodorised like there was no tomorrow.
Feeling more human, I wandered back into the living room and they all shut up once more. Clearly talking about me again. “Hi again. What’s to eat?”
“Er…beer?”
I sighed and eased my bag onto my shoulder. “How’s the weather, boys?”
“You’ll be fine in that little getup,” Jay assured me. “You’d get chucked out of Harrods, though.”
“Thanks. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Ryan got up and came over to me. “And you’re going where?”
“To get something that will make me feel less like committing suicide?” I suggested.
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“No, look, you’ve been away for ages. Stay here, I’ll be back. With bacon. And probably chips. And bread.” I gave a little gasp. “Tattoo number one!” I pointed at the mermaid in tribal strokes that ran along his forearm. It suited him.
“I'll show you where the other one is if you're really good.” He gave me a light kiss, then tucked his keys into my denim shorts.
“Are you copping a feel?” I demanded.
Ryan’s grin turned devilish. “If I were going to cop a feel, I’d do this…” He slipped both hands inside the denim shorts and gave both buttocks a gentle squeeze. He gave my shocked mouth another kiss, then said mildly, “Don’t get lost.”
Quite enjoying the after-effects of his molestation, I skipped off to Marks & Spencer for food. Knowing men, what I bought would feed all of us breakfast and that would be about it. Never mind. I came back with several bags, much to the boys’ surprise, and hustled into the kitchen.
“Got her well trained,” Tom said under his breath.
“I’m going to spit in your food now,” I threatened. The others chortled, then helped me prepare a fry up of sausages, tomatoes, mushrooms, eggs, beans and lots and lots of toast. We had a roaring time in the kitchen, and it was amazing watching the boys rib Ryan. Mainly about me, though.
“Just one step down from ordering a Russian bride, Ry.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked. “He taught at the same school as my friend.”
“Ah, the blond wanker.”
“Excuse me?”
“Shut up,” Ryan growled.
The boys went quiet, so I changed the subject. “Good to have Ryan back then?”
“It’s like he never left,” Jay assured me with a wink, topping up my glass with more fruit juice. When they’d finished, they were ushered out by Ryan. I was pretty much assaulted with hugs and kisses, except for Rich, who gave me a very regal nod before he left.
Ryan scooped me up and cuddled me into the sofa. “They like you.”
I noticed the stubble was growing back. “What, should they not?”
“Well, they don’t like anyone. Me included.”
“As long as you like me.” I gave a small shrug, very aware that my bare legs were over Ryan’s denim-covered thighs.
“Like you,” he murmured, “a lot.”
I slid my arms around his neck and pressed my lips against his. He made me feel so good. I eased closer to him, and weirdly, he pulled back.
“I was good last night,” he explained.
“Because I was wasted.”
He turned toward me, his expression serious. “Let me make it special for you. Even though a rough session of hard fucking will get rid of both our hangovers, I want to do the whole candles, flowers, champagne and strawberries thing for you.”
I fiddled with the neckline of his t-shirt. “I’m not made of glass, you know.”
“I know. Just let me feel my masculinity a little. K?”
“Okay,” I sighed.
He gave me a sweet, short kiss. “I’ll drive you home then. I hope you remembered where we parked, as I have no fucking clue.”
I have never felt so strongly about anything, but I was determined to get rid of that V title, and hand it to Ryan in a lovely little lace-wrapped package for him to take over and over again.
From: Courtney Phillips
yapalot@g
...
To: Ryan Klark
rudejoker@h
...
Date: 02 July 2010
Re: Doom
You’d better read this…
-------------------------------------------------------
From: Christopher Wilkinson
christheman@g
...
To: Courtney Phillips
yapalot@g
...
Date: 01 July 2010
Re: What the hell
What the serious hell is going on between you and my so-called mate Ryan Klark? I know he’s spoken to Fran about you, and she said you’re his girlfriend! I want an explanation. Now.
From: Ryan Klark
rudejoker@h
...
To: Courtney Phillips
yapalot@g
...
Date: 02 July 2010
Re: Doom
I got one too. I know what I want to say to him, but he’s your friend, it’s up to you.
---------------------------------------------
From: Christopher Wilkinson
christheman@g
...
To: Ryan Klark
rudejoker@h
...
Date: 01 July 2010
Re: What the proper fuck
Look, yeah, Courtney’s been my friend for a long time. So when someone tells me that you two are fucking, I want to know what the hell you’re playing at. Call me.
From: Courtney Phillips
yapalot@g
...
To: Ryan Klark
rudejoker@h
...
Date: 02 July 2010
Re: What?
How dare he! I’m sending him short shrift right now, and you definitely do the same. What I do is none of his business. What you and I do together is absolutely none of his business. 99 Problems but a Wilkinson ain’t one. You feel me?
From: Ryan Klark
rudejoker@h
...
To: Courtney Phillips
yapalot@g
...
Date: 02 July 2010
Re: Oh yeah…?
Girls who quote Jay-Z are super hot. Will you be my girlfriend?
From: Courtney Phillips
yapalot@g
...
To: Christopher Wilkinson
christheman@g
...
Date: 03 July 2010
Re: Re: What the hell
You do not ever get to write or speak to me like that ever again. My private life is none of your business. Given the things I know about you that your parents don’t, you’d be wise to keep me on side, wouldn’t you?
Are we on the same page? Good.
From: Ryan Klark
rudejoker@h
...
To: Christopher Wilkinson
christheman@g
...
Date: 03 July 2010
Re: Re: What the proper fuck
Now you know what this feels like. Game on you, cunt.
* * *
His bedroom was decorated with candles, the faintest scent of sandalwood in the air. Now I felt nervous. A week after Chris' horrible email, Ryan had sent me a text saying simply,
Tonight
. I had gone out on my lunch break and spent stupid money on a lingerie set that a girl should be proud to take off in front of any man. All black, all sheer, all not very much of it.
Channelling Betty Boop, I had on a short-sleeved fifties-style cardigan with polka dot navy high-waisted shorts and killer heels. I had gone straight to Ryan's flat, where he'd cooked for me. Well, he’d grilled some steaks and put some frozen chips in the oven, but he'd made the effort to make sure my steak was charred within an inch of its life before putting it anywhere near me. We'd laughed and gotten a little tipsy on a very smooth bottle of red. Then he'd taken my hand and tugged me to my feet, murmuring that he wanted to show me something. He showed me that his room now looked like something out of a Sarah Walters novel. If he brought out a dildo, I was running.
“Do you like it?” he asked, his mouth against my neck.
“It's gorgeous,” I said honestly. His hands rubbed my arms in soothing strokes.
“Are you cold? You've got goose bumps.”
A tremor went through my body. Now we were here, I wasn't so sure I could do this. No, I definitely couldn't do this. I'd take virginity forever. Ryan turned me around and cupped my face.
“As slow as you want, okay?”
I nodded a bit maniacally before taking a few deep breaths. “Can I just say sorry now in case I disappoint you?”
“No,” he told me, leaning down to kiss me. I instantly felt better. I was comfortable with this, the feel of his stubble on my face, his tongue searching carefully in my mouth before his mouth trailed away, down to my neck. I giggled. I couldn't help it—I had a sensitive part there.
He nipped me with his teeth. “Still?”
“Yes, you don't stop being…argh! Ticklish because…stop it STOP IT!” I squealed as he kept rubbing his jaw into my neck, cramping my stomach with laughter. He wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed me with intent. It felt immediately different. He wasn't playing around with me anymore. My arms encircled his neck, my fingers tangling in his curls. I felt his hands at the buttons on my cardigan. Once he'd slid the material down my arms, he worked on the buttons of my shorts, then they landed in a pile at my feet.
I had my hands on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his skin beneath my touch. I looked up at him as if asking if it was okay for me to touch him. He stroked the back of his hand over my cheek and let me explore. I undid the buttons of his shirt and pulled it from him. There was his tattoo. A huge black dragon that looked as if Ryan had been initiated as a man by some ancient Mayan tribe that inked the skin with such strong angled slashes and arcs over his skin.
It
ran all the way from his hip to his nipple along his ribs. I traced the raised skin where the needle had filled with colour. I looked up at him with an amazed smile, “That is...wow... When did you?”
“Last year. Just before I went to South Africa.” His eyes crinkled. “We probably did ours at the same time.”
“It’s probably that weird same birthday psychic link,” I suggested, unable to stop my palm moving over his tattoo. I leaned back a little from him to take my top off, a lace confection that ended up on the floor.
“You want to leave your shoes on?” he asked in a rather delighted little mutter, his mouth gliding over my shoulder.
“Okay,” I agreed, feeling my inner Dita von Teese. His hands cupped my barely covered bottom, roving in slow, almost reverent circles. His hands skimmed around my waist to frame my breasts. I took in a shocked breath. This was as far as I'd ever gone with a guy.
“Let me touch you here,” he whispered, his hands delving around my back to unhook my bra. The bra went flying somewhere across the room. I couldn't breathe properly at the feel of his hand on my naked breast. My nipples tightened with the sensation of his thumbs rubbing over the points.
He lifted me by the waist and placed me on the bed, then removed his cargo pants and boxers. I didn't know where to look; I caught the briefest flash of his dick. My face was the same temperature as the oven right now from embarrassment.
“Court, it's okay. Look at me.”
Was the bastard laughing at me? “I don't spend all day looking at porn, you know.”
He lay down beside me, shifting onto his side, so he could stroke the curve of my hip. “I know. But I want to spend a lot of time with you without any clothes on.” He took my hand and placed it firmly on his dick. Instinctively, my fingers curled around him. I could feel the blood rushing inside it, stiffening it slowly. I stared at the blue vein that ran along the side, pressed the pulse that nudged at my thumb to the sound of Ryan's intake of breath. I stroked him slowly. I thought the feel of his dick was amazing. It was so hot, the softest skin wrapped around what looked like a good eight inches of steel. I wrapped both hands around him and allowed him to push through my encircling thumbs, his flesh paler against my skin. I gave him a grin of deep joy.
“Enjoying yourself?” he stated with a flick of his brows.
“How do you not play with yourself all the time?” I asked, dragging my nails through the neatly trimmed dark hair surrounding his sex.
“I do. Now you're doing it for me.”
I lowered my head and took a long, slow lick. He tasted salty, clean. Why did girls have such an issue with giving head? This seemed more fun than anything else. I swirled my tongue around the swollen head; something sweet and hot leaked out onto my tongue.
“Fuck, fuck, okay, stop that,” he gasped, pulling my up by the arms. “Carry on and you won't lose anything. Maybe your eyesight...”
I opened my arms to him and was given slow, sweet kisses. His fingers firmly pinched at my nipples, sending shocked little jets of need between my legs. I squeezed my thighs together and felt the moistness damping my gossamer panties. Ryan caught both sides and pulled them in a long motion down my legs and over my shoes. He cupped my pussy, slipping his thumb between my damp lips. I gave a strangled cry as he touched my clit; then my whole body arced as he dipped inside me.
His lips found my breasts at the same time, the heat of his mouth surrounding my nipples. My body writhed underneath his influence, my legs closing against his hand, pulling him closer. He leaned up, using his thigh to open my legs wider. His hand returned to my pussy, and this time his finger glided into me.
“You feel so wet. Jesus, it's like you're going to break my finger you're so tight,” he said against my ear, his finger drawing relentless moans from me.
“Sexy bugger,” I murmured, turning my head to kiss him, my tongue curling under his top lip. I bit down accidentally as he added another finger.
He smiled under my mouth. “I'll remind you you did that later.”
I felt suddenly pressed down by the tension of his fingers stretching me, edging me toward a climax. My hand fisted into his hair, as I pushed against his hand. He chased light kisses down the length of my body before he brushed his lips over my own tattoo. “Very true,” he agreed.
I smiled up at the ceiling. “Love and champagne.”
“Drunk,” he admonished. He breathed out slowly, hooking my thigh onto his shoulder. I felt horribly exposed. He glanced up at me with a wink. “Just fit me for a pair of trousers afterwards.”
“Ryan, no!”
The feel of his breath against my wet pussy made me shudder to my scalp. “Out loud, Miss Phillips.”
I yelped at the heat of his tongue on my clit, my body buckling as he firmly traced a letter between my legs. “O.”
His tongue moved left, and my fingers tightened in his hair. “Mmmm.”
“What was that?”
“M.” I gripped the bed with my other hand, clenching under his touch. I let go of the bed to rub an unconscious hand between my breasts, gathering the sweat beading there. My whole body felt as if I was burning with fever. It was too much; I wanted him to stop.