Page 30 of Taming Achilles

I hadn't ever talked with Hugo much before. From what I noticed, he had a refined palette, typical for a Frenchman. He didn’t like British food, and for a while, I thought he didn’t like me. Maybe I had been mistaken. Maybe I had an ally after all.

Chapter 13

Geordie

The look on Pippa’s face should have killed me. I could almost hear that black, rocky heart of hers crackle like the stones of a quarry, falling into crumbs. As much as I might hate her now, she didn’t deserve this. I knew that.

For a moment, she was that girl. My girl. The one who stood on the bridge near the Benedetto Marcello Conservatory of Venice, listening to a melancholy tune through the high, stone walls on a rainy day. She swayed with the melody. No mask. No secrets. Just Pip, in a rare, beautiful, honest and vulnerable moment, reaching out her arms, asking me to dance with her.

I shook the image from my head, focusing on Simona.

Simona the red-haired, centred, reasonable woman who had been my life line for the past year. She had been a godsend when I was spiralling into the abyss, ready to drink myself to death.

“Is … that Hugo’s girlfriend?” she asked, with a sad, but teasing smile.

“That’s a leading question, my learned friend,” I said with a sad chuckle.

We were going down a path that led to a forked road. She’d travel one way, and I another. I savoured the sadness, because Simona had taught me that feeling things was how we honoured them.

“I had to try,” she looked kindly at me. A kindness I didn’t deserve. “And we’re on this side of the pond. We don’t do the whole “learned friend” thing here.”

“Ah, yes, you American barristers are less sophisticated in the colonies,” I teased, feeling at ease with my friend. Because that’s what she was. A friend. A kind ear, and a beautiful, warm body to lose myself in. A person who enjoyed the other side of my perversions, and needed the same thing for release.

She playfully slapped me on the chest.

“This whole thing only works if we’re honest and communicate.” She was still smiling, though there was no happiness there. Just … sweetness. Comfort. Which is what I had been using her for. “Is that her?”

I wish I didn’t know what she meant. I wish it wasn’t so fucking obvious. Why couldn’t I have moved on in five years?

I leaned back against the closed door, the back of my head slamming into it with a thud.

That was all the answer she really needed, wasn’t it?

“Well.” Her shoulders met her ears as she shrugged in resignation. “I can’t say I’m not disappointed. We’ve had a lot of genuine fun.”

“And connection,” I reminded her, needing to not sever this tie in a bad way. Simona had saved me when I was a drowning man. She had opened up a world of carnal delights when I was truly afraid that I’d never be able to get my tadger up because every time I did, I saw Pippa’s face.

Her face, sucking off my best friend with that enormous engagement ring on her finger.

Simona was patient. She was kind, open and vulnerable. She was the personification of selfless love that I craved. She deserved better than me.

“And connection,” she nodded, acknowledging my statement. “But … I think you might have something else going on. I’m not pathetic enough to wedge myself into a heart that wants someone else.” She placed her hand on my chest, over the aforementioned heart.

I placed my hand over hers.

“I wish it was different, Simona.” My eyes were starting to sting. I wanted to be a different man. “I swear to God, I wish that I wasn’t like this. You’re so good to me. Good for me. I can’t …”

“Oh, George,” her hands shot to my face, and she massaged the tension from my jaw. An act that had been so routine for us. “We’re human. We’re imperfect creatures. Who knows why we want the things we do, but we shouldn’t deny ourselves our desires.”

That was how she had done it. How she had opened a world of dominance, submission, and carnal pleasure. How she got me to stop denying my own cravings, and freed me from the bonds that kept me locked in my dark, and twisted mind.

But now that Pippa was back, the same beast that Simona unleashed was sniffing at its favourite drug, ready to sink its claws into a strawberry blond that tasted like heaven, laced with poison.

“Be gentle with her, George.” Simona warned. “Remember, it’s your responsibility to keep her safe when she’s in your care.”

Simona would hate what I was doing to Pippa now. How I was treating her, berating her. Riding her hard, and discarding her with no aftercare. Like a used tissue.

She also knew the whole story. The only person in the world who did. Because we were honest. We communicated. We didn’t judge.

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