Page 31 of London's Calling: Part 1
Realising it’s my phone, I pull it from my pocket and check the caller ID. It’s Dad, but he can wait. He’s no doubt going to blast me for something, and I’m not ready to deal with that level of grief yet. Silencing the call, I roll over and place it face down on the bedside table.
When I attempt to roll back toward Roni, I’m stopped as she swings a leg over my hips, straddling me.
“What are you doing, Ice Queen?”
“Showing my thanks for last night,” she says, pushing my T-shirt up my body.
Gripping her wrists, I stop her as she reaches my chest. “Not necessary. And you’re still hurt.” I pin her with a serious look, but she ignores me and rolls her hips over my morning wood.
Damn!
“Roni,” I warn, lifting her hands from my chest, but there’s no strength in the move, and she pushes forward, forcing my hands above my head and bringing her mouth within an inch of mine.
“Shush.” She closes the gap between our mouths and kisses me. “Someone took good care of me and now I want to return the favour.”
Her lips meet mine again before I can argue with her. And let’s be honest, what man would turn down morning sex from any woman let alone Roni.
Getting lost in her mouth on mine, tongue tangling in an intimate tryst, and her hips rolling gently, I don’t have the restraint or desire to stop her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Roni
Warm water sloshes over me, and I close my eyes as shampoo streams down my face. Running my hands up and over my head, I continue to rinse shampoo from my hair. I already showered once early this morning before Mickey woke, washing off the crusted paste he applied to my burns last night. Once I’m finished, I switch the shower off and get out, wrapping a towel round me.
I walk into the empty bedroom, but his scent lingers, in the air and the messed-up bed sheets. An image of me riding Mickey less than an hour ago flashes through my mind as I stare at the bed. Shaking my head, I flip through my wardrobe for something to wear that isn’t going to irritate my burns, which are feeling better after Mickey’s magic paste.
Pulling out a knitted jumper dress, one of many colours and styles I own, I pull on a thong and a strapless bra before slipping the black dress over my head, carefully tugging it down over my backside. I wiggle, then do a test walk the length of the room to ensure it’s comfortable.
I half dry my hair before plaiting it, pulling the braid over one shoulder. I don’t bother with make-up as I’m only going back to my father’s. Not that I want to. I’d stay here and never go back to that house if I had a choice, but I don’t. My phone buzzes with a message. No doubt it’s from Carl hurrying me along.
I pick up the phone ready to let him know I’m on my way, but the small smile I was wearing slides away when I see who the message is from.
Dad
Where the fuck are you, Veronica? Clayton is at the house and you’re not there?
Thinking quickly, I type out a reply and press send.
Me
I had to pop to the campus library and return some books. I’m almost home. I wasn’t aware Clayton was coming by otherwise I’d have made sure to be there.
I reconsider the no make-up plan and hurry through applying some eyeliner, mascara and blusher, grabbing a tinted lip gloss to put on in the car. I don’t have time for anything else. I grab a pair of ankle boots, wincing as I slip my foot in, and a handbag, then I pick up my phone. It begins to ring as I head downstairs.
“Carl, I’m coming now,” I say, pushing the button to call the lift.
“You father is blowing up my phone wondering where you are.”
“I know, I’m sorry. He just messaged me too. I told him I had to go to campus but we’re almost home.”
“Fucking grand,” he says before the line goes dead.
He’s pissed I lied because now I’ve put him in an awkward position. If I get caught out in my bullshit, so will he.
When I get outside, Carl is there waiting and cursing.
“Get in the fucking car, Veronica. I can’t believe this shit,” he snaps, opening the rear door for me.
