Killer Heels (19 page)

No wonder I’m so turned on. No wonder I’m feeling suddenly
desperate to have wild crazy sex. No wonder I’m feeling like I
want to turn round right now and wrap myself around X and
shove my tongue down his throat.

Because pressing insistently into her bottom, its shape and
size unmistakable, hard as an iron rod, was Xavier’s very large
erection.

He felt Coco freeze in his arms. The next thing she knew, he
was jumping back, to her great disappointment, and when she
swivelled round to look at him he was grimacing in embarrassment and apology.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Xavier blurted out, words tumbling over
themselves in his haste to make amends. ‘That was totally
gross. I’m really sorry, I just couldn’t help it – it just sort of
happened.’

He shoved both hands into his thick hair, dragging it back
off his face, the flashing coloured lights that spun over the
dancefloor catching bright shards off the glitter ball, casting
light and shadow over his strong bone structure, the high wide
cheekbones and long dark eyes.

‘I know you’re not interested in me like that,’ he went on
swiftly. ‘I never meant to make a move – it’s fine just being
friends, I never meant to push for more . . .’

Coco was goggling at him, her mouth open wide like a fish’s.
‘I thought you were gay!’ she yelled incredulously.
‘You what?’ Xavier goggled back at her, his face a comical
mask of disbelief. He leaned in, careful not to touch her,
worried about offending her with physical contact. ‘Did you
say you thought I was
gay
?’ he said.
She nodded frantically, her head bobbing up and down.
Xavier cracked up. He had been drinking too, he wasn’t
sober either; he howled, tears coming to his eyes, doubling
over, hands on his thighs. Coco, tipsy and sensitive, became
instantly offended.
‘Look,’ she shouted crossly. ‘You work for
Men’s Style
, you
have all these girlfriends but you don’t date any of them, and
you brought me to a gay club tonight. What was I supposed
to think?’
Xavier was still laughing, but he straightened up and
managed to say, ‘I come to gay clubs a lot. They have the best
music, no bullshit straight guys acting like asses, and the girls
are really pretty. Right, Marco?’
The Latino guy in the Top Gun jumpsuit, who was shaking
his stuff on the dancefloor close by, heard his name and came
shimmying over, throwing his arm round Xavier’s shoulder.
‘What’s up?’ he yelled.
‘Marco’s straight too,’ Xavier said to Coco.
‘Oh yeah.’ Marco leered cheerfully at Coco. ‘Very straight!
We’re the big macho studs of the gay clubs, eh, X? Whee!’ He
took hold of the zipper of his jumpsuit and pulled it down to
his waist, showing off an impressive chest.
‘Marco, you big whore!’ Travis called from where he was
dancing with Emily.
‘
You
the big whore!’ Marco took off towards them, leaving
Xavier and Coco staring at each other.
‘So, um, you’re not gay,’ Coco managed, her breath suddenly
short.
He shook his head.
The mojitos giving her Dutch courage, her whole body still
surging with excitement, Coco took a step towards him,
wrapped her arms around his neck, practically threw her
whole body against his, and pulled his head down towards
hers. For a brief second, he held back, but drink made Coco
persistent; she found his lips with hers, ground herself into him
insistently, and with a huge swell of relief she felt him, hard as
before, pressing against her; the heels made her tall enough to
twist and wriggle so she could position him where she wanted
him so badly, where she was desperate to have him, against her
crotch, between her legs, and as she did so she felt him moan
into her mouth. His hands came up to the small of her back,
pushing her into him even more, and she came up on tiptoe,
meeting him, his cock like a rod between them, the sequins on
her dress cutting into her with the pressure.
‘Coco . . .’ Xavier groaned against her mouth. ‘Don’t do this
unless you mean it, okay? I can’t hold out much longer.’
‘I mean it.’ Dizzy, delirious with sexual desire, Coco kissed
Xavier long and hard. ‘I really, really, mean it. I want you to—’
‘Jesus, don’t say it!’ He dragged his body away from hers.
‘You want me to come in my pants?’
His eyes were shining, his skin glowing with anticipation.
Grabbing her hand, he set off at a near-run for the door of
the club. They passed Jamie, now bumping and grinding
seductively into Marco, her long fall of blonde hair gleaming
in the spotlight, her little black dress tight on her slender
body.
‘Have fun, kids,’ she drawled, raising a hand to wave them
goodbye as they hurtled past and out of the door, past the
smokers gathered in a cluster by the red velvet rope, across the
sidewalk to Second Avenue, Xavier hailing a cab that screeched
to a halt, dragging open the door, tumbling Coco in and falling
in himself after her, pulling her onto his lap.
Her skirt was already hitched up to the tops of her thighs,
and as she climbed onto his lap it rode up to her waist, the
sequins slipping against each other, bunching up, a tiny strip of
lace thong the only piece of fabric now between her and total
nudity below the waist. Eagerly, she wound her arms around
Xavier, pressed herself down on his crotch, her eyes closing, a
gasp of release sighing out as she found the tip of his cock,
pressing insistently upwards through his trousers, and drove
herself down on it, working it right to where she wanted it,
feeling him slide past the lace of her thong, trying desperately
to slip inside her, butting against the fly of his trousers. Over
her shoulder she heard Xavier, in a strangled voice, giving his
address to the cabbie, but she paid no attention; she was blind,
almost deaf, utterly focused on what she wanted, what she
needed so urgently, what she thought she would die if she
didn’t get now, now,
now
. . .
Xavier was kissing her frantically, his tongue filling her
mouth, mimicking what his cock wanted to do to her so
badly, plunging in and out so that she could barely breathe,
but it didn’t matter; all that mattered was that she had
manoeuvred him exactly where she wanted him, was gripping onto the old ripped leather of the headrest behind him
to balance herself, her fingers sinking into the filling of the
padded cushion, knuckles white, the beaten-up suspension of
the cab jouncing up and down on the potholes, rubbing the
swollen tip of Xavier’s cock high up between her legs, against
her pussy, sending a hot rush of orgasm up right through her,
stabbing up through her, rising on a climax that came screaming out of her mouth as Xavier kissed her so passionately that
the pressure of his tongue against hers, his cock big and hard
between her legs, made her come again and again, throbbing
and bouncing on top of him as the cab tore through the
narrow streets of the Lower East Side, honking, tyres squealing, brakes crunching, racing as fast to its destination as Coco
was to hers, Xavier’s hands on her hips holding her clamped
to his lap.
A final metallic grind of brakes, and the cab screamed to a
halt with a series of bounces against its shocks that gave Coco
an orgasm that reverberated through her so powerfully it was
like an electric shock. She spasmed so hard that she collapsed
on top of Xavier, her whole body jerking with the aftermath,
so consumed by it that she barely felt him tilting her sideways,
reaching into his trouser pocket for his wallet, lifting her gently
off him so he could lean forward through the gap in the
Plexiglas and settle up with the cabbie.
Xavier got the door open and helped her out. She stumbled
on her heels, pulling down her skirt past her bottom, as the
cabbie shouted, ‘Too late, lady, I got the full show already!’ as
he pulled away from the kerb.
Coco fell against Xavier, so drugged with lust and rum that
she could barely stand.
‘I want you to fuck me,’ she said, grabbing his arm. ‘Please
tell me you’re going to fuck me now.’
They were climbing a stoop, Xavier fumbling his keys out
of his pocket, unlocking a huge iron grille of a door, pushing
open an ancient brown metal door beyond it, pulling her
through and down a narrow, stinky, linoleum-floored corridor, up a flight of stairs so rickety they looked as if they had
been chewed by rats, coming to a halt in front of another
door with not one, but two peepholes set into it. Coco held
onto the wobbly stair railing for support, her legs weak as
jelly, Xavier turning the wards in a whole series of heavy
locks, finally pushing open the door and ushering her into a
tiny kitchen, Coco bumping her hips on the countertop as he
slid a big metal bar back across the door again and turned the
lock to bolt it behind them.
‘It’s like Fort Knox in here,’ she said, bracing herself back
against the counter.
‘Better safe than sorry,’ Xavier said over his shoulder, and
then he turned to look at her and his face flushed with lust.
She was dragging off her thong, or at least getting it down to
her feet; too tipsy to manage to manoeuvre it over her high
heels, it ended tangled around one ankle.
Coco stared at him, her lips parted, her hair now completely
loose. She knew she looked like a complete and utter slut, and
she didn’t care. She had been good for so long, kept her
impulses under such tight control, and now all that selfrestraint had washed away. She didn’t care what Xavier
thought of her; she didn’t care if he thought she was the biggest
tart in the universe. Jacob’s hands on her that evening had
worked her up, got her heart pounding, made her wet and
horny, and Xavier, so young and handsome, with his big hard
cock and his dark eager eyes, was about to reap the benefits.
Never fuck on the first date was the New York rule, she knew
that by now – you had to wait until at least the third one so a
man would respect you.
Well, sod the fucking rules
. She didn’t give a shit about dating,
about presenting a ladylike façade so that Xavier would think
she was good girlfriend material. At that moment she didn’t
even care if she never saw him again after tomorrow, just as
long as he gave her what she wanted tonight.
‘You’ve got condoms, right?’ she said breathlessly. ‘Please
tell me you’ve got condoms!’
Xavier reached into his wallet, dragging out a strip of shiny
foil squares. He paused for a second, staring at her, his breathing hoarse and ragged.
‘We should go to the bedroom,’ he started, but Coco
couldn’t even wait for that, was too impatient, needed him
inside her right now, this second: she stretched out her hands,
the galley kitchen so narrow that his belt was in easy reach,
and dragged the leather through the buckle, whipping the belt
back against the metal buckle to release it, pulling it open,
unbuttoning his trousers, unzipping them, shoving them down
and reaching for the slit in his boxers.
‘Oh my God,’ Xavier moaned as her hands closed around
his hard dick, pulling it through the opening, wrapping her
fingers up and down its length, working him up as he ripped
open one of the condoms and rolled it onto the tip, his hands
shaking with the urgency. ‘Coco, you’re driving me mad.’
She was hoisting herself up onto the counter, spreading her
legs, her skirt up around her waist once more, one hand gripping his cock still, pulling him towards her, her other hand
between her legs, where she was already dripping wet, guiding
him in. Xavier pounded into her with one deep thrust, slamming her back against the counter.
‘I can’t go slow!’ he gasped, eyes rolling back in his head. ‘I
can’t slow down, I can’t.’
‘Fuck me!’ she panted, grabbing onto the counter for dear
life.‘Fuck me really hard! I want you to!’
It was all he needed to hear. He fucked her like a runaway
train, hard and fast, all his pent-up young energy boiling up,
sending her head banging against the cabinet door behind
her, her legs wrapping around his waist so he could plunge
harder, deeper, as if he were trying to pound his cock right
through her.
Coco couldn’t even scream; it was too wild a ride. She was
gasping for breath, clinging onto the counter, trying to keep
her head from hitting against the cabinet and only partially
succeeding, the sensations slamming through her so powerful
and overwhelming that she thought she might faint. Xavier
barely managed a couple of minutes more; with a last frenzied
thrust of his hips, he exploded inside her, yelling what sounded
like a war cry before he collapsed forward, his cock pulsing
over and over again, big enough so that Coco felt every single
spasm, each one an exquisite extra pulse and surge of strength.
She truly hadn’t known how frustrated she’d been feeling,
how desperate she’d been for sexual release. Apart from that
time she’d masturbated in Victoria’s bathroom, she’d crashed
every night when she got back from work and her exercise
classes, utterly drained. When her alarm went off in the morning, all she could think about was the crazed rush of putting
together a stylish outfit, running for the Q train, getting into
the office before Victoria to make sure Alyssa had Victoria’s
chilled water, goji berry plate and non-fat chai tea all ready and
waiting, arranged exactly as Victoria wanted . . .
‘God, I needed a fuck so badly!’ she exclaimed, and didn’t
realise until the words had escaped her lips that she’d said
them out loud.
Xavier, who was reaching down with both hands to make
sure the condom didn’t slip off, grimaced involuntarily.
‘Wow,’ he said ironically. ‘That makes me feel really good.’
‘Oh.’ Coco bit her lip, shudders running through her as
Xavier’s still-firm cock slid out of her. ‘I didn’t mean . . .’
But she had meant it, she knew she had. She really had
needed a fuck, more than she’d realised; she’d been absolutely
desperate for a man, a stiff cock, the sensation of losing herself
utterly and completely in the physical needs of her body,
which she had been starving and working out and barely allowing any pleasure at all. And even though Xavier had just fucked
her with extreme thoroughness, she knew that she wanted
even more. She wasn’t ready to wipe herself down, pull up her
thong again and get a cab home; now she’d had him once, she
wanted him again and again. For tonight, at least.
She was still drunk, still high on the thrills of dancing and
sex and the wildness of the night. Looking up at him, she saw
his handsome face had fallen.
He’s such a nice guy, she realised. He doesn’t want to think
I’m just using him for sex.
And I am
. She had to admit it to herself. She liked Xavier a
lot; he was a lovely guy, funny, supportive, a good friend.
With
a really big cock
. She blushed.
All I can think about right now is
sex. I don’t want to curl up with him and have a conversation
about our hopes and dreams. I want to take all our clothes off and
have us do unspeakably filthy things to each other.
‘Coco . . .’ Xavier began, and his voice was soft, his dark
eyes gentle as he gazed down at her.
She panicked.
I can’t do this. Not right now. I can’t do soft and
gentle and tender. I’m in crazy party mode, and I can’t get out of it.
And also, she was remembering Jacob Dupleix. His touch
on her hair, her hips. His knowing, experienced eyes looking
her up and down, assessing her, passing judgement on her
appearance, making her feel chosen, beautiful, special . . . and
incredibly turned on. She knew that in a way, Xavier was
reaping the benefit of what Jacob had started and deliberately chosen not to finish. Jacob had played cat and mouse
with her, worked her up, and left her fizzing with sexual
excitement; she had been desperate for a man after that, and
Xavier had turned up – and turned out to be straight – at
exactly the right moment.