Diamonds Forever (17 page)

‘What d'you reckon?' he said.

She couldn't take her eyes from the sketch. How on earth could a few lines and shadings build up to something with such heart and soul? It was as if the charcoal had got inside her and read her thoroughly before returning to the paper to recreate what it had learned. But was she really like that? Was that really her?

She was immeasurably flattered, but was she really as beautiful as that?

None of the thousands, maybe millions, of photographs of her floating around the internet had ever quite dug so deep into her soul. She felt more than physically naked. If people saw this, they would
know
her. It was almost unsettling.

‘Well?' Jason sounded nervous. ‘I mean, it's just a sketch. The actual painting'll be …'

‘No.' The word came out as a breath. ‘It's amazing. You're amazing.'

‘You like it.' He kissed her neck, burying his face in it to try and hide his pleasure, but it was obvious enough.

‘I like
her
. You've made me look … better than I am.'

‘No, I haven't.' He retracted his face from the crook of her shoulder and stared at her. ‘That's what you look like.'

‘But it's more than what I look like. There's so much to see in the expression you've given me.'

‘I want to tell people about you. I want them to see every side of you at once – the part that's strong, the part that's soft, the part that's a down to earth Bleddy girl and the part that's a superstar. All of it in one. It wasn't easy.'

‘I'll bet. But I think you've done it.'

‘When I come to do the painting, I'm going to do what the old portrait artists used to do and put in a load of random objects that say something about you. Just a little nod to 'em, like, but in a modern way. So, I dunno, haven't worked it all out yet, but maybe a lump of coal to show you come from Bledburn, lying on a copy of
Hello!
mag. Well, that's a bit shit, but you know what I mean.'

She laughed. ‘It's not shit. It's clever. I like it.'

‘Nobody's ever called me that before.'

‘Nobody really knew you, then. Do you know, perhaps you should paint yourself. And then they might.'

He smiled and kissed her.

‘That's an idea. Or paint us both together. That's a plan for another day. Once I've done all the dirty pictures of you.' The kissing drowned out the conversation for a long while. ‘But that project might take a long, long time,' he whispered. ‘Lots and lots of pictures.'

She stood on tiptoe, folded into him, enjoying the rough feel of his jeans and T-shirt against her bare skin. He was covered in wet paint, and she knew some of it was rubbing on to her, but she didn't care. She liked it. It was a kind of symbol of their union.

She held on to the back of his neck with one hand, keeping his mouth pressed to hers, opening up for his tongue.

One of his hands, caked in flaking dried paint, moved down the curve of her back and over the swell of her bottom, while the other found a breast and toyed with it, examining every inch with an inquisitive thumb.

She trembled with desire, stroking his jeans-clad leg with her naked one, lifting her foot to hook around his calf and hold herself closer to him.

‘This is what I want to paint,' he murmured, breaking off and looking deep into her. ‘Your lips all wet from kissing and your eyes telling me what they want. Keep telling me, babe.'

She slipped a hand inside the waistband of his jeans, eager to feel what was waiting for her.

‘Well, that's definitely told me,' he said, with a slight gasp as her fingertips found their target and squeezed.

He braced his arms under her bottom and lifted her, forcing her hand regretfully from his underwear as she jolted up and wound her legs around his hips to balance herself. Clinging to him, she resumed their kiss all the staggering way from the easel to the chaise.

They tumbled together on to the slippery chintz, the cushions falling pell-mell to the floor.

Jason paused in the feast of kissing and caressing to remove items of clothing, one at a time, before falling back on her to take more from her mouth and her body.

Before taking off his jeans, he took out his phone from the pocket. Jenna was momentarily confused, thinking this was surely not the right time to call for a pizza, but he had something quite different in mind, as she discovered when he started clicking away at her dishevelled and paint-smeared body.

‘Perfect,' he muttered, putting the phone down. ‘Just what I need. Jenna Diamond without all the polish.'

‘Shut up and get on with it,' she said, surprising herself with her guttural tone. She reached up for his neck and pulled him back down without ceremony.

All remaining clothes were wrestled off and consigned to the floor in the shortest possible time.

Jason was all over her, devouring her, neck, breasts, belly and lower. When he reached her triangle, he pulled her thighs roughly apart and pushed his face into the middle.

Jenna bucked and arched her back, ready for the exquisite friction of his tongue in her most private parts. She reeled with pleasure, grinding her hips over and over as he used his mouth with devastating skill.

‘Ohhh,' she moaned as he pulled her wider open with determined thumbs. ‘You can't …' It was too much, and her orgasm poured from her, once then again as he continued to lick without stopping.

Sated at last, he pulled himself up until he shadowed her body and, holding her shoulder tight with his eyes fixed on hers, he plunged inside her.

It seemed to be his avowed intention to wring her inside out with the number of orgasms he took from her. He kept at her, varying the speed and position so many times she lost count, until finally, after she had lost all sense of her body, her mind, herself, he finally released his own climax into her.

She was still floating, seeing specks before her eyes, when she became aware of the click click click of his camera phone once more.

‘Oh, Jase,' she managed to whimper through rubbery lips.

What a picture she would make! Her hair was plastered to her face, her eyes unfocused, her body used up and shining with mingled sweat and paint, her whole demeanour punch-drunk.

‘Shh,' he said, snapping away. ‘This is what I need for my last pic in the series. You look totally fucking done for.' The rich satisfaction in his voice made her squirm and curl her toes.

Yes, there was some truth in his claim that it was an ego trip. What could be better for a man's ego than the thought that people in the future would look at her ravaged body, and her face stupid and slack with satisfaction, and know that it was he who had produced this effect?

But she didn't mind.

She liked the idea. It made her feel more his than ever, and when she experienced this sense of belonging, it gave her a paradoxical freedom from every other constraint in her life.

When she was Jason's, she didn't have to be Jenna Diamond any more. She was just Jen.

‘Look at you,' he said, gleefully waving his phone in her face.

She made an enormous effort to come back to earth, blinking hard and working on her breath before looking at the photographs.

Good grief, she barely recognised herself!

‘I'm a hot mess!' she exclaimed. ‘You can't paint that.'

He scooped her into his side and arranged them both into a comfortable sitting position on the chaise – which would now need to be re-upholstered, given the terrible treatment it had just received. She still wasn't quite able to control her body in the way she might wish, so Jason posed her like a doll, letting her settle and subside against his own worn-out frame.

‘I can,' he said, smiling at her photograph. ‘And I'm going to. Hot mess is exactly what I'm after.'

‘I look half-dead,' she objected.

‘More like three-quarters, babe. Yeah. That's good for me. I want people to see you and suck in a breath at how sore you must be feeling inside.'

‘You're a pervert.'

He stared at her pityingly, as if rebuking her for her ridiculous statement.

‘All right,' she said, jabbing him with her elbow. ‘I know that's obvious. But you really are.'

‘They'll be jealous,' he said gloatingly. ‘Jealous of both of us. Unless they're getting similar themselves, of course. There must be people in the world with the same level of sexual chemistry as us … maybe.' He sounded doubtful.

‘I'm not entering any competitions,' said Jenna.

He chuckled.

‘There's a thought. Wouldn't you like a gold medal for your drawing room?'

‘My Emmy award for
Talent Team
is perfectly fine by itself, thanks.'

‘Ah well. It was an idea. If your judgey mates could see this …'

‘Never.' She was quite firm.

‘I wonder what that Mr Nasty guy would have to say about it.'

‘Something nasty, obviously.' She tried to swipe at the camera, to get it out of his hand, suddenly afraid he might press the wrong button and beam the image into all the social networks there were.

Jason held it away from her, tutting, but she got hold of his arm and grappled with him.

‘Put it down,' she begged. ‘I'm afraid it might …'

They fell into a struggle, Jason heaving with laughter at her pathetic attempts to take the phone from him.

In the chaos of their play-fight, the phone was knocked from Jason's hand and sent clattering to the floor. They both dived for it at once, falling in an ungraceful tangle on to the rug.

Jenna got hold of it first.

‘This isn't the phone I gave you,' she said, noticing for the first time the different casing and the more sophisticated screen.

‘No, sorry, it's an old one of yours, the one you said you were getting rid of 'cos too many people knew your number. Takes better pictures …'

He trailed off, noticing her appalled face.

‘Oh God,' she said. ‘Oh God, it can't have done that.'

‘What?'

‘While we were fighting over it … I think one of us touched the screen at the wrong time and …'

‘What?'

‘It's on fucking Facebook!'

‘No way. Give it here.'

But Jenna leapt up, staring at the screen as if she expected it to speak all the essential truths of the universe.

‘It has, you know,' she wailed. ‘Oh sweet
Jesus
.'

‘Well, delete it then,' said Jason.

‘It'll be too late,' she said, her eyes wild as she jabbed manically at every possible button. ‘Probably shared and tweeted and God knows what all over the world by now.'

‘Are you sure?' said Jason doubtfully. ‘Don't you need to press post or something?'

‘I think I
did
. Accidentally.'

The screen came up. The picture was indeed taking top billing in Jenna's Facebook feed. It had already been shared twelve times.

‘Oh God
.'

She pressed delete, but it seemed a bit pointless now. The picture was out there.

‘After all my efforts,' she said after a long period spent with her head in her hands whining like a kicked dog. ‘After everything I've done to keep the press off our backs, I go and do this, all by myself.'

‘Is it that bad?'

Jason had got up and was pacing, somewhat moodily, around the room.

She stared up at him.

‘
Is it that bad
?'

‘Well, what does it prove? That you've got a sex life. Big deal.'

‘I'm going to report myself to Facebook,' she said feverishly. ‘But it's too late again. This'll be saved all over the place by now. The fucking thing will live forever.'

‘But what difference does it make, in the end?' blurted Jason, sounding exasperated. ‘It's not like you're committing a crime.'

‘Oh yes it is,' she said hollowly. ‘A PR crime. I've tarnished my image and I might never recover. This could spell the end of
Talent Team
. The Jenna Myatt Diamond brand is finished.'

‘Don't be so daft. You're overreacting, love. And besides, you're not a brand. You're a person. The only way you'll ever be a Jenna Myatt Diamond Brand is if you marry Russell Brand. And I'm not having that, trust me.'

She laughed despite herself.

‘He's a nice bloke, actually. You'd be surprised,' she said.

‘Sex scandals never did him any harm,' observed Jason.

‘No. But I've never made shagging around a part of my public persona, have I? I can't get away with what he can.'

‘Double standards,' said Jason. ‘Victorian values, still alive and kicking.'

‘No, it's not that. It's just … Oh, why would I expect you to understand?'

Jason, who was standing by the window, suddenly smacked the wall so hard it sounded like a pistol shot.

Jenna jumped up from the bed where she had subsided in despair.

‘No, right,' he said tightly. ‘Why would I understand anything, eh?'

And he marched out of the room.

Before she could follow him, Jenna's phone rang. It was her PR person. Damn it. She had to take this call.

Sighing, she clicked the button and said, ‘Yes?'

Deano Diamond nearly choked on his Old Fashioned.

‘What the …? Is that photoshopped? It can't be real.'

He turned to Lawrence Harville, who had showed him the picture on his mobile phone.

‘All too real, if you ask me,' said Harville. ‘I'm sorry. It must be embarrassing for you.'

Deano contemplated this thought. Embarrassing? Not really. Maddening? Yes. But also potentially grounds for optimism. Another scandal was exactly what Jenna didn't need right now. Who was to say she wouldn't welcome a little bit of support and … well … a nice feel-good story about a marital reconciliation might just be on the PR cards after all …