That Filthy Book (5 page)

One of the barmen, an aged fellow with tufts of coarse grey hair at his temples and none on his shiny head, took my order for a large glass of white wine, a denture-ridden smile transforming his wrinkled face. I wondered what he saw every night and what he thought about it. People meeting for illicit trysts. Obvious extra-marital affairs. Drunk men gaining bravado from alcohol, trying to pull women so obviously out of their league. Women, legs like elastic from too many alcopops, hoping their knight in shining armour would notice them and sweep them off their feet.

I had my knight. I had my castle. I just wanted a little enhancement.

The barman turned away and walked to the wine cooler, getting in the way of another, much younger man who bustled around getting drinks for a gaggle of twenty-something women down at the other end. They shrieked at a joke one of them had told, and I recalled nights I’d spent out with the girls in my university days.

I didn’t miss them.

I returned my attention to the old man, and as he poured I took in my surroundings, wondering where Jacob was. He’d hidden himself well, then, would watch me as planned until my drink was nearly gone and then he’d show himself.

The wine, when I took a gulp, was cold and crisp on my tongue and gave me something to do while I threw surreptitious glances about the place. The men on the corner leered some more, but rather than please me this time it made me a little uneasy. Jacob still wasn’t in plain sight, and I could only hope he was watching them, keeping an eye on the situation. One of them stared a bit too hard for a bit too long, and as a blush crept into my cheeks, I turned away.

My glass of wine had suddenly become an interesting study.

I sipped, awareness of being watched prickling my skin. It wasn’t meant to be the eyes of other men—only Jacob—and the unpredictability of my plan, the thought of it going wrong, hadn’t entered my head until now.

Wine almost gone, I searched the pub with my gaze for the one man who mattered and finally spotted him standing behind the crowd of men at the corner. He glared through the space between a black-haired beefcake and a blond wiry guy, his face hard, mouth set in a grim line.

The game was on.

I tossed the remainder of my drink down my throat and left the pub, the shock of cool air adding to the buzz of adventure shuddering through me. A few metres ahead lay the dead-end alley between two buildings we’d agreed on, and I checked behind me so the next act could begin.

Jacob wasn’t there.

Come on! Where are you?

I slowed, head bent, and wondered why he’d deviated from the plan. He was supposed to be right behind me, making it clear he
had
been tailing me since we’d left the hotel. I was meant to make my mouth into an ‘O’ of shock, whimper, and rush down the alley to get away from him.

A quick flash of footsteps sounded behind me, and I smiled, keeping my head down. So
this
was how he wanted it, was it?
He
wanted to control this fantasy. Fine, I’d let him, but he’d better be good!

At the alley entrance, I rested my hand on the brick and made to turn around, to give him that little mewl of fright, but a hand clamped over my mouth before I had the chance. I was jerked backwards against a very male chest and held tight by a strong, thick arm across my belly. I lost purchase in my damn heels and stumbled. I bit back a squeal, my hands flailing as I instinctually fought for balance even though Jacob was holding me steady.

“Down here,” a voice said.

A voice that wasn’t Jacob’s.

Oh, shit. No, this couldn’t be happening. Not for real.

Bone-cold terror coursed through my veins, turning my blood to ice. I lashed out, arms flapping, raising them in order to smack the bastard and cause him pain, make him lose his grip. He held me tighter. I jabbed my arse back, hoping to catch him in the groin where it would hurt the most, but my efforts were wasted.

Oh, God. Where the fucking hell is Jacob?

I struggled, fighting to break free, trying to scream and failing. That hand prevented any sound escaping. Shunted down the alley, the man’s hold firm and growing stronger, I frantically brought my hands up with the intent of scratching his face or gouging at his eyes. More footsteps sounded, sure, quick strides; loud taps that struck the alley floor in time with my heartbeat. Flashes of the men at the bar whipped through my mind, and I imprinted them there for when I would need to recall them for the police. It had to be them. At least the man who had stared the most.

My wrists were caught in front of me by another set of hands.

Fuck. Are they
all
here?

My knees weakened, unable to give my legs the strength to hold me upright, and, weirdly, the thought of those young women with alcohol-heavy legs sprang to mind. Why the hell did that come into my head when I was…when I was being…?

I was roughly carried further down the alley into the dark shadows beyond. The smell of weathered brick didn’t seem as delicious as it had a few hours ago when we’d checked out our locations. It was ugly, searing the inside of my nostrils, and a smell I’d never forget; branded in my mind as a memory I’d rather not have.

How quickly fate could change the best-laid plans. And to think this had all been for some dirty kink. Now the truly awful crime was about to be inflicted upon me. How foolish and naïve we’d been. Having a fantasy about it was one thing, but having it happen for real was an entirely different ballgame.

The man holding my face and body let go, and I grabbed a breath in order to scream. Whoever held my wrists had better get ready to run, because I wasn’t being taken against my will like this.

Wriggling, I faced the looming silhouette, who drew my arms down and held my wrists in one hand. Before the scream could emerge, he steered me towards the wall of a building so fast my mind couldn’t keep up. He slammed me against the brick, and the air I would have used to scream gusted out of my mouth. I snatched another breath, ready to try again, but he pressed his palm over my lips. I couldn’t see him—the darkness was absolute and the sound of receding footsteps made me glance to the alley opening.

A man disappeared around the corner onto the street, leaving me trapped with some bastard who was squeezing my wrists rhythmically and was breathing too heavy. Had those men in the pub got hold of Jacob? Thoughts for my own safety fled, replaced by fear that my husband was being beaten up by thugs.

One of them was here, pressing himself against me, one knee prising my legs apart. Fuck, no. He wasn’t touching me like that. Who did he think he was?

I bucked, jerking ineffectively against his hold. He was too strong, too fucking strong, but I’d keep fighting, keep trying to get him off me if it was the last thing I did.

“You like this, bitch? Eh? You like my buddy grabbing you for me?”

Confusion rippled through me, chasing the terror away.

Jacob?

He let go of my wrists, jammed his fingers in my hair and wound it around them. And yanked.

Juices flooded my pussy.

I raised my hands, pushing them between us to reach his face, fingertips meeting with wool, the ridge of an eyehole, then skin. I traced over that tiny bit of exposed face in search of the little knot of raised scar tissue that should be there if this really was Jacob.

It was there, beside his eye. Relief ploughed through me, leaving me a sagging, weak mess. I wanted to give in and cry, to let out the rest of the extreme tension that had consumed me, to rail at him for changing our plan and frightening me shitless. But he had other ideas.

“Yeah, you fucking loved it, didn’t you, bitch? And you want me fucking you now, hard and fast, the wall gritty on your bare arse after I’ve ripped your knickers off. Bet you’re wet. So wet that my cock’ll slip inside you so fast you won’t have time to catch your breath.”

Jacob had turned into someone I’d wanted him to be for so long. Sensations, so many of them—shock, surprise, pleasure—overcame me, and for the first time since he’d spoken, my clit swelled. The throb there grew as I sensed him staring at me, the heat from his ragged breaths fanning my face.

“You’d answer, wouldn’t you? Except I won’t let you. My hand’s staying where it is for now, you damn filthy whore. Clamped over your pretty little mouth. Bet that mouth can suck cock good. Bet those lips and tongue can make a man come hard. Yeah, my hand’s staying put. Don’t want you screaming. Not that kind of scream, anyway.”

He lifted his knee, settling it at my crotch, and moved it back and forth. My skirt rose with each movement, the air cold on my newly exposed skin. His jeans abraded my clit through my gusset, rough, pleasing strokes that fuelled the kernel of desire into something bigger, more intense.

He’d got some guy to join our game, how I didn’t know, but right now I didn’t care.

I wanted a fuck, a rough-as-hell fuck.

And I was going to get it.

Chapter Four

Jacob kept one hand clamped over my mouth as the other roamed my body. I pushed and shoved at his arms and chest. Fighting my attacker, I wriggled and writhed to be free. But my efforts were futile—he was so strong and determined. I was a lamb against a lion.

He cupped my breasts, his hands rough and frantic, squeezing first one then the other, leaving them pulsing points of pain. It was not how he normally touched me—there was no respect there, no consideration or tenderness. “I’m gonna fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before, bitch. I bet you’ve never had a real man like me, have you, eh? Just a bunch of losers who couldn’t get it up, I bet.”

“Mmmph,” I whimpered behind his palm.

He grunted and fumbled with his fly button. I couldn’t see, but I knew his cock would be freed instantly. He’d gone without boxers—didn’t want the extra barrier, he’d said.

He gave a deft flick of his wrist and shoved my tiny Lycra skirt upwards, its flimsiness no protection from this masked man hell-bent on fucking me. There was a ripping sound as he tore my panties from my body, and I was vaguely aware of the burning sensation the taut fabric had left on my skin. There would be a bruised, red mark tomorrow.

And I would be proud of it.

Jacob breathed heavily, the noise of the air rushing in and out of his lungs rasping through the mask, down onto my face. He didn’t wear his usual spiced aftershave. He just smelt of raw man—heated arousal and dingy desires. It made him all the sexier—if that were possible.

“Open your pussy, whore.”

I shook my head, mumbled, “No”, and sped up my squirming.

In response he stooped, hooked his forearm behind my knee, and hoisted my right leg into the air. My hip joint clicked in complaint, but I barely noticed its awkward position. All I could think of was how vulnerable he’d made my pussy.

He wasted no time in taking advantage. Pinning me to the wall with his solid chest, he shoved his thick cock into my folds. He missed and the blunt head stabbed my delicate flesh. I screwed up my eyes and groaned in discomfort. He ignored me. Repositioned and rammed forwards again.

This time his aim was accurate, and he slid high and fast into my sopping pussy. I tried to cry out as my channel struggled to accommodate him. So many times he’d fucked me; countless times, but still I’d always had the sublime stretching sensation whenever he rode to the hilt on his first stroke. It was a combination of pain and pleasure, and I lapped it up, wishing the erotic bite would last longer.

“Yeah, bitch, take it,” he grunted. “Take all of my big, hard cock. It’s the best one you’ve ever fucking had.”

He withdrew and rushed back in, pounding against my clit with his hair-fuzzed pubis.

It felt divine.

“You were asking for it tonight in these slutty clothes,” he hissed by my ear. “Short,
fuck me
skirt and top so tight your tits were practically on show. I could see your whorish nipples poking through. They want to be bitten hard, don’t they?”

His vulgar language thrilled me utterly, but I wished he’d let go of my mouth. Breathless and claustrophobic, twisting my head, I tried to shake him off, but he didn’t let up his grip.

“This is not about your pleasure or what you want,” he snarled, increasing the grip and his fingertips pressing into my cheeks like pincers. “You’re mine. I’m fucking you how
I
want to. This is all about me. I’ve taken your body to do whatever I please with.”

I whimpered and balled my fists into his bomber jacket. Tugged hard, trying to get his attention.

But he ignored me and buried his head in my neck. He grabbed my left breast and pinched my nipple roughly through my top as he steamed in and out of my cunt. There was no consideration for me at all. It was the opposite end of the spectrum to kind, gentle Jacob, and I really did feel like he was another person. I was being screwed by a darkly twisted stranger in a dirty alley.

The whole situation and Jacob’s carnal, uninhibited hunger combined with his enthusiastic acting skills sent fiery fingers of exquisite pleasure sizzling over my skin. This was what I’d asked for and, as always, wonderful Jacob was giving it to me.

With each shunt his breathing quickened and his bodyweight pressing into me increased. I was helpless. He was in control one hundred per cent. I couldn’t even verbalise what I wanted or needed. If I’d wanted it to stop, which I absolutely didn’t, I couldn’t have done anything about it. I was on for the ride—the whole ride.