Killer Queen: A Painted Faces Novel (13 page)

Her cheeks grew red as she averted her eyes. My
dirty talk was making her shy, and I kind of loved it. I grabbed her chin,
forcing her to look at me. “Are you shy? Fuck, that just makes me ten times
harder for you.”

I started to rub at her with quick movements,
bringing her closer. I wished she wasn’t still fully clothed, because I wanted
to take her breast into my mouth. Frustrated, I went for it anyway, capturing
her nipple through the fabric and biting down on it hard. I knew the hint of pain
would make her release that much more intense. She cried out and her body
bucked beneath me, and then she started to shake as she came. I didn’t let her
look away, our eyes remaining connected as the waves of pleasure passed through
her body.

In that moment, I wanted to claim every part of her,
make her mine, and the possessive thought was disturbing. I’d worshipped many
women, but never before had I wanted to stake a claim. The idea of her finding
sexual release with another man made me want to break something.

Her breathing was beginning to even out when I
lifted and manoeuvred her so she was on top of me. There wasn’t a single part
of us that wasn’t touching, and I loved it.

I stroked her bare arms with both my hands as she
moved her face to my neck and let out a happy little sigh. I enjoyed being the
cause of that sigh, savoured the feel of her mouth against my quickly beating
pulse. In all my years, I’d never felt anything quite like this with a woman.
I’d never had a woman make me feel the way Fred made me feel, and I suddenly
realised just how much I’d been missing out on. I fervently wished I had met
her years ago. If she had been a girl at my school, I would have instantly
pursued her. I could have avoided all the emptiness that filled my life, could
have bypassed trying to fill that emptiness with hedonistic pleasures that gave
me nothing of worth to hold on to.

And I wanted to hold on to the last half an hour
with Fred for the rest of my life.

 “You're so pretty when you come, all wide-eyed and surprised.
I didn't think you'd make me feel so clean, Fred,” I told her, completely
unfiltered. I wanted her to know just how much she affected me.

“What do you mean?” she mumbled, her face still
burrowing into my neck. I liked it that she enjoyed being there.

“Every woman is different. Some of them make you
feel satisfied, others make you feel high, most just make you feel used or
dirty. But you, Fred, you make me feel cleansed. There's no guile or ulterior
motives with you. You're just in the moment for whatever it might bring.”

I could feel her heart pounding as the meaning of my
words hit her. She moved then so she could meet my eyes. Hers were brimming
with emotion.

 “That sounds kind of sad. Don't any of them ever
make you feel love?” she asked, her head tilted to the side.

“Some have come close,” I lied, because I suddenly
felt self-conscious. I wanted her to know all of me, but at the same time I
didn’t want her to know how empty my life had been. I looked away, ashamed.

 “Well, all I know is that was one of the best
orgasms I've ever had. I've been plagued with men who didn't know what they
were doing,” she joked, and it dragged me out of my sad thoughts, making me
smile just the tiniest bit.

 “I'm flattered. Although since you said yourself
that you haven't had a boyfriend in three and a half years, I must not have
been up against very stiff competition,” I joked back.

“How do you know I don't have one-night stands to
keep me tided over?” She was being flirty now.

“You don't. You're not that kind of girl. I can
tell. Perhaps that's why you make me feel so clean.”

She stared at me for a long moment, then frowned. I
wanted to know why she was frowning, but I didn’t dare ask. Instead, I gave in
to my need to touch her hair again and began trailing my fingers through it.
She practically purred in appreciation, so I knew she liked it. A feeling of
calm washed over me, and I took a very simple pleasure in lying with her,
savouring the peaceful feeling she gave me.

 “I really like you, Fred,” I said honestly in a
soft, tender voice.

 “I really like you, too, Nicholas. But — do you
think this might have been a bad idea?”

She was frowning again, and I could tell her
insecurities were wheedling their way into her head, so I tried to reassure her
that I was on the same page.

“No. I think we both know where we stand with one
another.”

She sat up and climbed off me. She seemed
embarrassed for some reason, and it made me wonder if I’d said the wrong thing.
I wanted to know what she was thinking.

I wanted to be with her, whatever that might entail.
I was about to tell her so when she suddenly changed the subject, reminding me
of a promise I’d made to her several days ago.

 “Hey, remember when you said you'd teach me how to
walk in heels?” she said, and nodded toward a pair of my stage shoes that were
sitting in the corner of the room.

“Yes?” I replied.

She grinned, but it was brittle. What the hell was
she trying to hide? “Care to show me now?”

I was honest with her when I said, “That might be
difficult, since I've got a severe case of blue balls at the moment.”

And yes, perhaps I was also being a bit
passive-aggressive. But I was pissed at how she was trying to gloss over what
had just happened between us. She reminded me of a skittish stray cat that
would scarper the moment you made the tiniest wrong move.

She stared at me for a long moment. My gaze burned
into hers, my meaning obvious. I wanted to take her into my room and fuck her
until she couldn’t walk straight. I did not want to play a game of teaching her
how to walk in heels, because we both knew that would have been a fine charade.

Unfortunately, Fred decided to latch fiercely onto
the charade, determined not to let go.

 “Well, walk it off, Viv. A girl needs to know how
to wear heels if she wants to make it in the cutthroat world of fashion. I plan
on developing an eating disorder and entering Britain's Next Top Model next
year. This lesson will be the first step to achieving my dream.”

A frown swept its way across my face as I studied
her. And then it dawned on me. She
was
embarrassed over what we had
done. We were supposed to be friends, not fuck buddies. When I was done with
her, she wouldn’t even know the meaning of the word embarrassment anymore,
because I was going to dirty all her clean right up.

Still, I decided to allow her to withdraw. Forcing
her to shed her armour all at once was not the way to go about things. I would
play this at her pace for a while and see where it took us. Clapping my hands
together, I declared, “Right, well, we'll have to start you off on a pair of
low ones.” Then I went inside my room to find a suitable pair of heels to begin
with.

“No way, I want the sexy flashy ones you wear on
stage,” she called after me with humour.

“You're already sexy enough, Fred,” I shot back, and
grinned when I was met with silence.

Yes, that had certainly put her in her place.

July
22nd
,
2012.

Soundtrack:
“Crush” by Sleigh Bells / “Combine Harvester” by The Wurzels

Two
weeks had passed since Fred and I had our fumble. I was starving for her touch,
and I thought she might be starving for mine, too, but she never would have
admitted it.

Dorotea had been trying to get in touch with me, but
I wasn’t interested. Now that I’d had a taste of Fred, no other woman was going
to cut it. I felt like all my life I’d been hungry, but only now had I become
aware of it.

Everything about Fred called to me. And it wasn’t
just physically. Her inner spirit drew me to her. I loved her humour. I loved
how she said inappropriate things or blurted out stuff before thinking it through.

I’d roped her into helping me plan a housewarming
party at my apartment, because I’d been in Dublin for almost a month and felt
it was time to officially mark things as permanent. Fred agreed to cater it for
me, so I was left to do the invites and the entertainment, for which Phil
volunteered to lend me his karaoke machine.

It was a personal favourite of mine to watch drunk
people make a show of themselves while singing karaoke. I got a devious sort of
enjoyment out of it.

I was looking forward to the party until Phil
informed me he’d had the good grace to invite Dorotea. The woman was becoming a
pest with all the phone calls and texts, so I wasn’t thrilled to have her
there. In all honesty, I was hoping something would happen with Fred, and
Dorotea’s presence wasn’t going to help matters. Still, I didn’t have the heart
to uninvite her.

I showered, styled my hair, and dressed in a dark
shirt and slacks. A touch of aftershave, and I was ready. Phil said I looked
set to pose for the cover of
GQ,
and I liked that idea. I wanted Fred to
be impressed when she saw me. With her working as my show assistant, she spent
so much time looking at me in dresses that I felt the need to remind her I was
all man.

Soon the guests began to arrive, and I was swept
away in my duties as host. About an hour had passed before my eyes locked on
Fred coming into the apartment. She was wearing a sinfully tight black silk
dress that clung to her every curve and showcased her breasts in a way that
practically got me hard just from looking at her. Her hair was pinned up, which
made my fingers itch with the need to pull it loose. I did, however, admire how
the up-do exposed her neck, a neck that I desperately wanted to suck on and
bite.

I stared at her until she finally gave me her eyes.
I thought I saw her breathing deepen when she became aware of the fact that I
was watching her, and I tried to communicate all of the need I felt with a
single scorching glance as I walked toward her.

Dorotea had cornered me, and I had been waiting for an
excuse to steal away. Fred’s arrival was as good an excuse as any. When she saw
me coming, she turned her back to me, fixing her attention on a painting I had
hung on my wall. I stood behind her, hoping she could feel my heat. The way the
skin on the back of her neck prickled told me she was all too aware of my
presence. I placed a hand on her hip and brought my mouth to her ear.

“I like your dress, and your hair looks beautiful up
like that.”

She was holding a glass of wine, and I noticed her
hand shaking slightly as she brought it to her mouth for a sip.

“Thank you,” she whispered, then glanced to the side
before looking back at the painting. “Dorotea's not happy that you've left her
to fend for herself.”

Immediately, my temper rose as I ground out, “Fuck
her.”

“You already have, but why the venom? I thought you
two were best shagging buddies,” Fred answered back. Her tone was teasing, but
there was a certain bite behind it.

I was honest with her when I said, “She's been
calling me nonstop, looking to come over. It's driving me insane. Phil
mentioned to her that I was having this party when she dropped into the club
the other night. She proceeded to call me up and complain that she hadn't been
invited. So that's why she's here.”

 The second I finished speaking, Fred turned to me,
her expression angry. “Well, it serves you right. I mean, look at yourself,
Nicholas. You're handsome and charismatic. You can't just sleep with a woman
and then expect her not to want to see you again.”

Her words cut me deep, and I was instantly wondering
if she was speaking for herself more than Dorotea. Ever since things happened
between us, I’d been waiting for her to make the first move. Don’t get me
wrong, I’d been flirting with her every chance I got, but I hadn’t been making
any real advances. Maybe she interpreted my lack of moves as a lack of
interest. If that was the case, then she couldn’t be more wrong.

 I didn’t want to get into an argument with her, so
I answered casually, “I'm twenty-eight, Freda. I've had lots of experience with
clingy women over the years. It doesn't mean I have to like it. But let's
rewind a moment. You think I'm handsome and charismatic?”

Her lips twitched before she let out a long sigh.
“You know you are. Maybe that's the problem.”

So she was accusing me of being vain. I suppose it
wasn’t the first time. Still, I wanted her to know that while she thought I was
handsome, I thought she was the most beautiful, sexiest woman I’d ever known. I
brought my mouth to her ear, allowing my lips to touch her skin as I replied,
“The admiration isn't one-sided. I think you look completely fuckable in that
pretty little dress.”

“Are we back to this again?” she said, fidgeting
nervously and trying to sound jaded. “I thought you'd gotten over your attraction
to me. You've been very well-behaved.”

Well, that was passive aggression if ever I heard
it. She definitely wasn’t happy that I’d been keeping my hands to myself. And
if I had my way, I’d be remedying that unhappiness tonight.

“I was trying to respect you, but I also don't want
to hurt you. You're my friend, and I could see how I was upsetting you, so I
stopped. That doesn't mean I don't think about your mouth every night, about
how you felt against my hand, how you moaned when I made you come.”