Bad Girls (2 page)

‘Oh boy, that means the falconry’s started. I’m gonna go outside to watch, and then I’ll head off to go hawking!’ he chuckled happily. ‘And then I’ve got fly-fishing on the lake. Jeez, I can’t wait to catch us some dinner!’ He bent down to kiss her. ‘You have a great time in the spa, babe. Be back in the room by four, will ya? I’ll be raring to go by then.’

Amber nodded as he dashed out of the breakfast room, almost a head taller than most of the Englishmen there, and much healthier-looking. Square-jawed, with a nice thick head of hair, Tony had the typical, neutral good looks of the American man. He wasn’t handsome, but he could pass for it in England because he was so big and healthy from the high-protein diet of milk, beef and eggs that all good ol’ Texan boys were raised on.

Reaching into her bag, the Vuitton to which she was almost surgically attached because of its precious contents, Amber extracted her pill dispenser.

‘Goodness, that’s a lot of pills!’ the waitress blurted out, setting down Amber’s single poached egg on rye bread, and her second cappuccino.

‘Vitamins,’ Amber said, smiling at her, as she hooked a French-manicured nail under a big white oval and popped it out.

This should help, she thought.

And whether it was the ‘vitamin’, or the Fruit Active Glow facial in the Elemis spa, followed by the really superb Aroma Stone massage and mani-pedi, Amber felt wonderful as she lay in the sunken whirlpool bath of her treatment room a few hours later, staring dreamily at the sky. For her, this meant that she was actually feeling very little, utterly suspended in a hazy cloud of bliss that wrapped around her and insulated her from the outside world, just like the bubbles of the whirlpool bath.

Underwater lights cast an eerie, otherworldly glow around her; they had been red when the bath was turned on, but Amber had asked for blue instead, and the beauticians had been only too happy to oblige. Red was much too stimulating. Red was the colour of passion and fire; it stirred you up; while blue was cold and clear, the colour of the sky and the sea. Blue cleansed and purified you.

The swimming pool turned out to be blue as well, cobalt mosaic tiles with gleaming pewter accents. There was a Jacuzzi at the far end, where she sat in another cloud of bubbles and gazed at the Devon moors beyond, the gentle rise of the hills, pale green and grey. Clouds moved slowly across the gunmetal sky. It was hypnotic. She pulled herself out of the water eventually, catching sight of her reflection in the mirrors, her white crochet Shoshanna bikini pale against her lightly tanned skin. The room was lined with large diamonds of Art Deco glass, and at the far end was a sunburst of mirrors, faceted silver; if she tilted in the right direction, she could make herself disappear completely between the diamonds of cut glass.

She wrapped herself in a big, soft white towel, sinking down onto one of the loungers arranged in a semicircle in the glassed-in pool area, staring out over the grounds of Bovey Castle, the stone terraces that led down to the lawns and golf course beyond. It was the perfect English country home. By now she was floating on her own invisible bubbles, and the covert glances everyone else cast her, their whispered speculation about who she was – actress? model? socialite? all three? – were lost in the pale blue haze that surrounded her.

Outside the curving glass walls was a gravel path on which people strolled past, pausing by the little pond with its pale grey stone fountain of a nymph and fairy, water trickling gently from the nymph’s hands. But then they looked through the glass and saw Amber, sun-glazed, her long, perfect limbs the colour of pale biscuit, the white towel turban wrapped around her head emphasizing her slanted green eyes and impossibly high cheekbones, and they double-took in shock, staring at her avidly before they remembered their manners and reluctantly turned away. Amber was much too exotic a creature to be anything but a rarity and a wonder in the English countryside.

Eventually, Amber got dressed and made her way back through the grounds to the stone lodge that she and Tony were occupying for the weekend. Made of local granite and oak, it had three ensuite bedrooms, a kitchen and a living room with a central fireplace and a vaulted oak ceiling, three storeys high. It was much bigger than they needed, and stunningly luxurious. Amber lit the fire, opened the glass, living-room doors, popped some more vitamins, and curled up on the wooden lounger on the deck, smoking a cigarette and gazing down the slope of the hill, through the trees to the lake below. Daffodils and crocuses bloomed in the woodland, pale yellow and white and purple.

Eventually, she roused herself and went upstairs, to the lush, red-carpeted master bedroom. It was three o’clock, and she had completely forgotten to eat any lunch; but then, that was one of the useful side effects of her ‘vitamins’. She plugged in her hairdryer and styling tongs, sat down at the mirrored Deco dressing table, and spent forty minutes sculpting her hair into lush, cascading waves, and twenty more making up her face, curling her eyelashes, glossing her lips, dusting glossy highlighter along her cheekbones, turning up the wattage on her beauty. She stroked Lancôme’s Star Bronzer all over her body, working it in until her skin glowed pale gold, and slipped on a delicate pale blue silk bra and panty set, drawing matching hold-up stockings up her thighs and smoothing out the ribbed velvet-covered elastic.

She wandered into the bathroom, set under the eaves. When they’d checked in last night, Tony had sighed in ecstasy over its gigantic bath, big enough even for a Texan to stretch out in, and its equally huge power shower. The walls were papered in zebra print, the far one hung with a full-length mirror in which Amber now surveyed herself.

This was one of the moments that gave her the most pleasure of all. Dressed up in exquisite underwear, made up to perfection; she threw some poses in front of the mirror, flicking back her hair, smiling to herself. It was something men didn’t understand, the satisfaction that a woman received when all her hard work paid off, the dieting, the exercise, the grooming, the money spent on beauty treatments, the painstaking, detailed construction of the absolutely best image of herself that she could present to the world.

‘Babe! I’m back!’ Tony yodelled, slamming into the lodge with a burst of energy that made her jump. She walked out of the bathroom to meet him; he was running up the staircase, colour in his cheeks from the sunshine, eyes shining with excitement.

‘We bagged a rabbit, plus two trout!’ he said triumphantly. ‘I’ve booked a private chef from the hotel to come in tonight and cook dinner for us here, in the lodge! Romantic, huh? And eating what I caught for us, how cool is that!
Wow.
’ He reached the top of the stairs, taking in her appearance. ‘You look
unbelievable
. I’m getting a massive hard-on just looking at you!’

Amber smiled happily, sitting down on the big, luxurious bed with its red coverlet and matching suede pillows.

‘I need to wash before I can even touch you!’ Tony apologized. ‘I must stink of fish. Lemme go shower and I’ll be right with you . . .’

He bounded into the huge bathroom, cursing as his head cracked against the beamed ceiling, and turned on the power shower. Amber listened to the water pounding down, the happy noise of Tony humming to himself as he soaped thoroughly, and his bare feet padding across the floor as he emerged again, naked, his cock rising at the sight of her, a large, shit-eating grin spreading over his face.

‘Boy, oh boy,’ he said happily, ‘what a weekend I’m having . . . Where’s the DVD player?’

‘Oh, I completely forgot,’ Amber said guiltily, looking around.

‘No worries, babe.’

He pulled it out of his travel case and set it up on the mirrored dressing table, clicking open the screen, inserting the DVD, lining everything up so he had a good view. Then he pressed Play, and the DVD whirred on, sultry music issuing from the speakers.

‘Here you are!’ Tony said proudly.

Amber turned her head to see the screen. It was a DVD that
Sports Illustrated
had filmed while they were shooting her for their famous yearly swimsuit issue, the one that could make the career of unknown models and give the ultimate seal of approval to established ones. You had to be healthy, curvy and sexy to appear in
Sports Illustrated
; no skinny high-fashion types allowed. And as Amber appeared on the screen, her hourglass figure emphasized by a cutaway pale pink swimsuit, lifting both hands to flip her hair, walking across a sandy beach, a setting sun glowing behind her, Tony moaned aloud in excitement.

‘Come here,’ he said, pulling her onto his lap, kissing her thoroughly, his hands running through her curls, his cock stiffening even more against her thigh. ‘God, you’re so hot . . .’

He eased the silk bra strap off her shoulders, kissing down the gilded skin, his mouth hot and wet, his hands all over her, caressing her breasts, kissing her nipples, easing her back till she lay on the bed, raising her hips so he could slide off her silk knickers. His mouth dived between her legs, making her moan back at him, and he slid his tongue into her, licking her, getting her wetter and wetter until she was gasping for breath, grinding into him, his big hands on her hips pulling her against his mouth.

‘You’re so
fucking beautiful
!’ Tony gasped back, climbing on top of her, reaching for a condom, positioning his dick, guiding it into her, her legs wrapping around him. ‘Oh Jesus – this is
so fucking hot
. . .’

Amber’s head fell back as he drove into her, her hair streaming over the end of the bed. If she tilted her head back even further she could just see what he was watching so avidly: herself. Lying on a sand dune, back arching, sand rippling beneath her. Walking into the sea, twisting back to look at the camera, smiling seductively over her shoulder, arching to make her waist look even slimmer, her bottom thrust out even more sexily. It was a turn-on for her as well, though she’d never have realized it before Tony proposed the idea. Her entire life revolved around her looking perfect, sexy, desirable, and here was the ultimate proof of that; a man who loved her beauty so much that he wanted multiple versions of it simultaneously. If he could have surrounded them with TV screens all showing Amber on the beach in her swimsuit, he would have done.

I shouldn’t suggest that to him, she thought, smiling despite herself. He’s crazy enough to do it . . .

She looked up at Tony as he fucked her, his hands running up and down her stocking-clad legs, but his eyes staring greedily at the image of her on the screen. She knew that he was imagining all the other men who’d watched the video and reached down to pull on their stiffening dicks, pretending that they were just behind the camera, about to step forward, see Amber smile at them and pull the swimsuit straps off her shoulders and lay down in the sand so they could have sex with her. Pretending they were the man she wanted, the man she was tossing her hair back and blowing kisses to.

She knew that the thought of how many other men wanted her was the single most powerful reason that Tony got so turned on by her, and she understood why. That was what she was selling, after all. Desire. The DVD wasn’t just a way of Tony seeing multiple images of Amber. It was to reinforce the hot rush of knowing that Tony was where every other man, and not a few women, wanted to be. It was his ultimate fantasy.

‘I’m fucking you . . .’ he moaned. ‘I’m making you come . . .’

Actually, he wasn’t; but Amber slid her hand between her legs to take care of herself, bucking as her fingers stroked her clit, turned on enough by Tony rearing inside her, ramming her hard, for her to reach climax almost immediately; a scream escaped her lips as she came, rubbing herself against him.

‘Oh, yeah – look at you coming, you’re so goddamn beautiful . . .’ Tony groaned.

There were three Ambers in the room. The Amber on the screen, walking out of the sea now, salt water dripping from her perfect skin, her smooth stomach, smiling at him seductively. The Amber reflected in the mirrored dressing table, her hair spilling down the red coverlet, her legs in their pale blue translucent stockings wrapped around his waist. And the Amber below him, her body jerking as she came, her pink-glossed lips open, panting, her eyes closed, lost in her own orgasm. He wound his fingers in her hair, pulling her head up so he saw her face as clearly as he saw her on the screen, unable to hold out any longer.

‘This is the best fuck
ever
!’ Tony yelled as he spasmed hard inside her.

Amber felt him come, and tensed immediately, but Tony was always careful, and he barely got his breath back before he was easing out of her, holding the condom as he slipped it off. No one wanted her to get pregnant. He dumped it on the bedside table and collapsed on top of her, mumbling into her hair: ‘Babe, you are one hot fuck.’

‘I try,’ she said sleepily, already in a doze.

‘Ever since I saw that DVD –’ Tony raised his head for a moment, just to take a final gloating look at the screen image of the woman he’d just had sex with – ‘I knew I had to get with you. Remember when I asked you if you’d mind me playing it? I was a bundle of nerves. I couldn’t believe it when you said it was OK.’

Amber shrugged beneath him, drifting away on a cool blue sea. ‘It’s still me,’ she mumbled.

‘It sure is!’

He rested his head between her breasts. ‘Nap time,’ he said contentedly. ‘And then we’ll head up to the bar – I gotta show you off all dressed up – and you can have another one of those crazy purple cocktails you liked last night.’

‘Parma Violet,’ she said drowsily.

‘And then we’ll come back and have dinner in front of the fire. Jeez, this is the best weekend
ever
!’

‘D
on’t you know who I
am
?’ Petal demanded imperiously.

The doorman looked down at her, rifling through pages of names on the VIP list, waiting for her to announce who she was; but Petal just stood there, blue-fingernailed hands on hips, fringe hanging into her face, ruffled top falling off her shoulder, her dangling resin earrings trembling in the night wind. He needed to work out who she was; she wasn’t going to help him along.