Ask No Questions (11 page)

"Oh, you should see yourself," he goaded. "Up on all fours with my finger up
your bum. I knew you'd love it. You do, don't you?"

"Shut up."

He laughed.

"Flirting with danger again, love? You must love having your arse spanked."

"Oh," she moaned, protesting.

"Don't worry. I want my cock up there too much to waste time painting it red.
Oh, it's going to be so tight. Jesus. OK. Let's do this."

He pulled out his finger then re-inserted it with another. This was a little more difficult and Kim sucked in a breath, but she still pushed her bottom on to his fingers, welcoming them in.

He rotated them, scissored them, pushed them in and out for a while until he was sure she was relaxed enough to take more.

"OK, love," he whispered. "I'm going to be very careful now. Try and stay relaxed for me, hmm?"

She nodded, but her nervousness was evident in the slight quiver of her shoulders. He stroked her hip, shuffling up behind her until the tip of his cock brushed the inward curves of her bottom cheeks, then slipped between them. With his free hand, he pulled them apart, opening up his target.

Yes, she was tight but the slippery surrounds aided his first foray into that little pucker. She wriggled beneath him and he held her hip still, then patted it, distractingly reminded of sheep trying to leap from his arms at shearing time.

"All right?" he asked.

"Bit scared," she admitted. "But it's exciting. Carry on."

The feeling of pushing through that tiny ring was almost too much. He paused, one inch in, and held himself still, mouth wide open, eyes shut, savouring the experience.

"Surely it's too big," whimpered Kim underneath him.

"No, no, it'll go, don't worry."

He prepared to take another slow forward push, every nerve in his body previewing the intense pleasure to come.

There was a thunderous banging at the door.

"Kizzee!"

"Fuck!"

Both Rhys and Kim spoke the oath togeth
er. Kim yanked herself forward and scrambled up the bed. Rhys, left with a homeless erection, leapt off the bed and went to stand by the door.

"It's Jonathan
," hissed Kim, unnecessarily. Who else could it be? "Don't answer him. He'll have you killed."

"Calm down," said Rhys. "Of course he won't."
He raised his voice. "You've got the wrong room, mate. There's no-one called Kizzee in here."

"Kim, Kizzee, whatever. And who the fuck are you, if I may ask?"

"I don't think we've been introduced, and I'd like to keep it that way. Now, if you wouldn't mind fucking off and leaving us in peace, we were just in the middle of something."

"She's in breach of contract. You let me in now or I sue her to kingdom come. She'll never work again."

"Look, I'll let you in…"

Kim wrapped her arms around herself and shook her head frantically.

"…if you bring those police officers in the car park with you. I want everything we have to say witnessed."

"Look, I don't know who the fuck you are but ―"

"You don't need to know. Bring the coppers with you or get lost."

The sigh was audible through the inch-thick door.

"Right. I'll be five minutes tops. Don't even think about going anywhere."

"Not easy to leav
e a building that's surrounded by shrieking fans – I expect you'd know that."

"Right."

Webb seemed to walk back along the corridor.

"Well, love," said Rhys, looking down with some dismay at his indomitable erection. "I suppose we'd better get dressed."

"Rhys," she said. She was milky pale, biting on a knuckle.

"It'll be all right. He can't take you anywhere against your will. He can make any threats he likes, but they'll all be witnessed by those cops."

"This time," muttered Kim.

"What else can we do? He's not going anywhere until we've talked."

"I know."

Rhys picked up her shorts from the floor and handed them to her.

"Just tell him how you feel," he said.

She stood up, ran into the bathroom, ran out again, clearly too flustered to act.

"Keep still," he said, putting out a hand and stopping her in mid-flap. He drew her to him by her elbow, took the shorts back and held them open by the waistband. "You need a bit of help, don't you?"

He dressed her – an unusual inversion of the usual practice – until she was decently attired, then he tried to stop her shaking by crushing her into his chest.

"This time tomorrow we'll be back at the farm," he said. "We'll shear the sheep. We'll have a bottle of wine. Then I'll take you to bed and fuck you until you can't see straight. How does that sound?"

"Too good to be true."

"It isn't. He can get three dozen more Kizzees just by clicking his fingers and he's a good enough businessman to know that it doesn't make sense to cling on to you if your heart's not in it."

"Oh, thanks," she said, pretending offence.

"Not that you don't have a unique talent, love," said Rhys hurriedly. "But you aren't the only one. If that makes sense. Probably not."

"Stop digging," she said
, looking up at him with a reluctant smile.

He only had time to kiss the tip of her nose before the door fell victim to more hammering.

He pulled on his leathers in a tearing hurry and went to the door, opening it a fraction to make sure the required police presence was in evidence. It was, the uniforms looming behind the narrow, expensively-covered shoulders of Jonathan Webb.

"OK," he said, acu
tely conscious of his bulging crotch, but defiant about it all the same – he wanted Webb to know exactly how lost to him Kim was. "Come on in."

Five
people entered the room – Webb, two huge minders and the policemen. Kim shrank back into a corner and stayed there while everyone else stood in the centre of the room, nobody quite sure whether or where to sit.

Webb
hadn't even looked at Kim yet, too busy glaring at Rhys with undisguised hostility. Only when Rhys looked over at her did he follow suit.

"Kizz," he said, holding out a hand. "Come on now. This is silly."

She shook her head.

"It's over," she said. "I don't want to be Kizzee any more. I don't want to come back."

"But…" Jonathan took a moment to look around the room and make sure everyone had seen his 'what's her problem?' grimace. "Why not? Sweetheart, you have everything you ever dreamed of. I made your dreams come true. And now you want to ditch me? Are you sure you don't need to see a doctor? You're depressed, Kizz. Perhaps you just need a bit of time in a good clinic."

"There's nothing wrong with her," growled Rhys, but Kim spoke over the top.

"I can speak for myself. And I'm fine. Never better. Because I'm out of that circus and away from you, Jon."

"You aren't yourself," he insisted.

"No," she shouted. "You don't know what my self is. It isn't Kizzee. It isn't all sparkles and spangles. I'm over all that." She paused for breath, working hard to command herself. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to have a go at you. I know you're just doing your job, brilliantly and spectacularly, as always. But please, can you do it with someone else now?"

"You're under contract," he said.

"I'm so sorry. I know. But you're a billionaire, Jonathan. You don't need me or my singing voice. Can't we just part amicably and you move on to the next big thing?"

"Who is this?" Jonathan
made an irritable stabbing gesture towards Rhys. "And what has he done to you? Brainwashed you, by the sound of it."

"He's
my best friend," she said.

Rhys wanted to take hold of her hand
, pull her close to him, but felt he should let her say her piece first.

"So you knew him before…?"

She shook her head.

"So
you've only just met him?" Webb, incredulous, looked around at the other occupants of the room again.

"Bottom line," Rhys
said, clearing his throat and wishing he hadn't used the word bottom, which was much too evocative of recent events. "She doesn’t want to go back to you. You can't make her go back to you. It's illegal – am I right, boys?"

He looked at the police officers, who made gestures and expressions of assent.

"OK," said Webb, after a pause. "Clearly I'm not about to force anyone into anything. That's not what I'm about. I've got hundreds of eager and talented young people who'd give their limbs for me to take them under my wing – why would I waste time on a lightweight?"

Kim nodded. "Exactly," she said.

Webb seemed displeased that his words hadn't wounded.

"And to be honest, sweetheart," he said, his face ugly with malice, "you aren't all that. Pretty face, nice voice, but it's all expendable. It never lasts more than a season, and your time was coming to an end. You were a mayfly, not cut out for the long term."

Kim kept her chin up and nodded, but it was clear that the words had hit their mark.

"Best off without me, then," she said, just above a whisper.

Webb shook his head. "Stupid bitch," he said, then he clicked his fingers. "Come on, guys. We've wasted enough time in this hole. Let's leave her to her sheepshagging meathead."

Rhys clenched his fists but kept the police presence
in mind and simply watched Webb and his goons file from the room without a backwards glance.

"Thanks, lads," he said to the officers as they rose from the bed.

"No worries," said one. "I think everything's square now. She's found, she's been booked, he's gone. You can take your car. She'll get a summons in the post about the speeding. Points on the license, most likely."

"So we'll be off," said the other. "But, er, before we go…" He turned shyly to Kim and held out his notebook. "Don't suppose I could have your autograph, could I?"

She laughed, a long high note of slightly hysterical relief, and took the book and pen.

"Of course, darlin'," she said. "Though pretty soon nobody will remember who I was."

"Who you are," corrected Rhys. "You aren't dead."

"I won't forget you," said the young policeman, taking back his notebook. "Th
is'll kill 'em down at the pub. I'll be dining out on this story for years."

"That's good enough for me," said Kim with a more genuine smile. "You can say you were there when I announced my retirement."

"Shame, though," he said. "I thought you were brilliant. Voted for you, I did."

"Come on, Bryn, quit while you're ahead," said his partner with an eyeroll. "You'll be throwing your knickers at her next."

Rhys laughed, but couldn't help making a subtle move towards Kim, a
hands off, she's mine
.

The officers couldn't fail to notice it and they left with polite goodnights, shutting the door behind them.

"Do you think that's it?" asked Kim anxiously. "Do you think he's really letting me go, just like that?"

"He didn't have much choice. Come here."

She fitted herself gratefully between his arms and vented a few tears of relief. Rhys felt the warm wetness trickling through his zip into his chest hair and he held her closer until she began to wriggle.

"I feel like I've left you with no choice either," she whispered. "I hope you don't feel like you're lumbered with me. If you want me to go…"

"Shut up! Jesus, woman."

Her lips twisted into a grin.

"Well, I didn't like to presume," she said. "After everything you told me."

"Listen, love, after everything you and I have been through, it really is time to put the past behind us. I don't want to waste any more of my life on my own, and if you want to spend some of it with me, well…you know. You're more than welcome."

"Do you mean it?"

"Of course I mean it. And Skip'd miss you. She likes you."

"I'd hate to let Skip down."

"Come home then."

"OK. Are you going to put your jacket back on first?"

"I dunno. I figured I'd give those paparazzi outside something to get excited about."

Kim slapped his shoulder lightly.

"Twat. Go on. Get dressed and let's get out of here. This room smells funny."

"But it was good enough to get buggered in, wasn't it?"

"D
on't! Oh my God. What if Jonathan had walked in on us?"

"I kind o
f wish he had. We wouldn't have had to waste all that time talking."

A crimson-cheeked Kim dug him in the ribs then stepped aw
ay and watched him put his leather jacket back on, smiling crookedly throughout.

"What?"