Page 21 of London's Calling: Part 1
“Yes, Daddy,” I say, turning to face him.
“You will accompany myself and Clayton to a business dinner tomorrow night. Be sure to wear something suitable for the occasion.”
“Of course.” I will my legs to move slowly and gracefully from the room despite wanting to run away.
When I reach the stairs, I jog up them like I’m being timed, then I flat-out run to my room. I can’t believe I ever thought I’d have a say in my life. I should have known my father would never allow me any freedom.
I dump my bag in the bottom of my wardrobe. I’m done with studying and won’t need any of that shit after today. I didn’t tell my father, but I submitted my dissertation today. I’m officially done with university.
And if my life and freedom and my chance at a career in journalism is about to be ripped from me too, I’m going to make the most of the time I have left.
Chapter Fifteen
Roni
I down my shot and move back to the dance floor. Arms in the air and hips swaying, I let the music and the alcohol and the high from the charlie I took earlier take me away. I close my eyes as hands grasp my hips, hot breath ghosting over my ear as the guy grinding against me whispers something.
I shake my head, not entirely sure what he said, but I think it was something about finding somewhere quiet to screw. I open my eyes, scanning the crowd until I find who I’m looking for.
Carl, my bodyguard, my father’s hired eyes.
He’s watching me intently, eyes narrowed and a scowl on his face. I did consider sneaking out without him, but why bother. Either way my father is going to be pissed at me.
The guy dancing behind me trails his hands up my body, kissing my neck, and I’ll admit, I’m tempted to fuck him just because I can. Turning my gaze from Carl, I scan the crowd while preventing wandering hands from touching anywhere other than my hips and torso. He’s persistent I’ll give him that.
I spin in the guy’s arms, pushing his hands away from my tits. “Hey, keep it PG, mister. I don’t fuck on the dance floor.” I turn my face away, looking over his shoulder as he leans in for a kiss.
In a sea of bodies, rich honey-coloured eyes watch me from across the dance floor. My breath stutters as I take him in, hands in his pockets, focus entirely on me and the guy I’m dancing with. A girl sidles up to him, but he barely acknowledges her as she tries to get his attention. I watch as his mouth moves, and I’m no lip reader, but I’m sure it was a firm “fuck off”.
I continue dancing as Mickey and I eye one another, heat building, and some innate part of me pictures Mickey’s hands on my body. When the song comes to an end, I glance over my shoulder to find Carl. He’s there, but I don’t think he’s noticed Mickey yet.
I thank the guy, telling him I need to use the bathroom, and then I slip away while Carl’s attention is momentarily captured by two men going at each other just behind him.
I feel Mickey’s eyes on me as I push through the crowd towards the toilets. I shove between the girls lining the corridor queuing for the toilet and make my way to the fire exit door at the end.
“Hey, there’s a line you know!” some girl snarks at me.
I give her the finger over my shoulder as I pass. As I reach the door, I look behind me and find Mickey pushing his way through after me. A thrill rushes through me, mixing with arousal and a combination of drugs and alcohol. I watch him, a smile on my face as I wait till the last minute before slipping through the door into the alley behind the club. I let the cool night air wash over me, prickling against my sweat covered skin, and I suck in a deep lungful of air. A second later, it’s knocked from me as a hard body slams into mine, forcing me forward into a small, dark alcove across from the door.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Ice Queen?” he rasps against my ear as I’m spun around, my back hitting the wall.
“Having fun, Rawlins, something you should do more of. Besides, why do you care what I do or who I fuck?”
“Is that what you think? That this is because I give a fuck what you do?” He cages me in, pinning me with his hips, and I can feel his hard length through his trousers. “I don’t, just so we’re clear, but I’m not in the habit of sharing my toys. And you, Ice Queen, are my favourite plaything right now.”
I reach up and run my fingers over his stubble covered jaw. “Really? Because I heard you don’t mind a little threesome now and then.” I arch a brow, and he pulls his face away from my touch and snatches my wrist, pinning it to the wall. “And let’s not forget the Mickey Rawlins I know doesn’t hit the same girl twice. So, forgive me if I don’t believe you.” My free hand winds around Mickey’s hip, and I grab a handful of his arse, squeezing before pulling him tight against me. I press my face closer to his, our noses touching. “Is that all for me, Mickey, huh?”
“Too fucking right it is, Ice Queen,” he says a second before his lips slam down on mine. I open for him, loving the way he tastes, craving the invasion of his tongue as it battles against my own. Releasing my wrist, his hands tug at the hem of my dress, and I thrust my hips forward as he slips the dress over my bare arse.
Abruptly breaking the kiss and panting, he says, “Is this bare fucking cunt for me?” I shake my head trying to deny there was even a little hope I’d see him tonight. “I think you’re lying,” he whispers, sliding a finger along my slit followed by a hum when he discovers how wet I am. “And now I know you’re lying,” he says, driving a finger inside me.
“Fuck!” I cry, spreading my legs and allowing him deeper. My back scrapes against the brick wall, but I don’t care. I need the pain, need to feel him deep inside of me as he calls me out on my bullshit, and I need to feel his hate. My walls tense around his finger, and he adds a second in response.
“Look at you. Fucking loving my fingers inside you.”
“Not…enough,” I rasp out as he curls his fingers inside me, hitting the perfect spot. “I need more, Mickey,” I beg, arching my hips in time with his pumping fingers.
“God damn it, Roni,” he groans, tearing the top of my dress down, releasing a tit. He bends his head, sucking a nipple into his mouth, twirling his tongue around the tight, aching bud before scraping the edge of his teeth around it. Bolts of pleasure-pain shoot to my clit, and I’m done with foreplay.
