Questing Heart: Fighting Heart Erotic Bad Boy Romance Series Book 2 (3 page)

In spite of my plan to keep Brandon suspicion free, I couldn’t stay with him anymore. I just couldn’t do it. By now I had around a suitcase of stuff at Brandon’s flat, and I decided to take most of it with me. I left the suitcase of course, and a few knick-knacks that I wouldn’t miss and crammed most of my stuff into a giant handbag I didn’t often use and the rest went into my college bag. I decided to go back to my own flat-share, a small but comfortable place I hadn’t seen in weeks. After that I would go and study at the library. Maybe I’d even catch Cody unawares so I could buy him a coffee.

With minimal fuss I got away from Brandon’s flat. Amanda was in the kitchen drinking milk. I passed her by and called ‘catch you later,’ before she had a chance to check out my luggage. Brandon was still fast asleep, snoring and smelling of too much Armagnac from the night before. I didn’t join him in that drink, and it apparently left him a little too far gone to wake me for the usual. I didn’t mind. If we had sex at all now, it was good, but for me sex was a sensual activity where I could only truly reach the heights if I cared about the person I was with. Now, when I felt Brandon near me, when I felt him inside me, I somehow fought the pleasure and I resisted him in my mind. I’m sure he felt my resistance. Even when I came, it wasn’t with the explosive abandon of our first times. There’s no way he couldn’t feel it, but I was past worrying about that.

My original flat was three storeys above the Loampit Inn, a boisterous pub full of loud Irish music and brawls ready to happen at any moment. I had only been there once, and it seemed like the place had been sucked through a wormhole straight from a mid-twentieth century Dublin. The noise from the pub used to keep me awake for the first night or two, but soon it became part of the background scene, like birds in the countryside.

It was early now and the Loampit Inn was quiet, but still had the aura of last night’s drunken party. I walked around the side of the pub to the flat’s entrance at the back of the building and climbed the steps. I took out my key. I felt at peace being in my own space again. Before I went to my room, I went to the kitchen and set about making a strong cup of coffee. I stole milk from a half empty litre bottle with Bess’s name on it - Bess who always had everything. She wouldn’t miss a little milk. Then I slumped into a chair by the foldaway dining table and listened to the silence.

Before I’d drunk a half cup, Bess, came into the kitchen and did a double take. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were all puffy with sleep, and she was in her baggy checked pyjamas.

“What are you doing here, Ash?”

“Good morning, Ashley. Welcome home. Oh, how we’ve missed you,” I replied.

“Yes and of course, but… you moved in with Brandon Lynes.”

“Kind of. For a little while. But not really ‘moved in’ more like, hooked up with.”

Bess rubbed her eyes and grabbed the kettle and took a mug for herself.

“Hooked up, yes. But I got that note you sent last week. Come on, Ashley. You could have just phoned me, for fuck’s sake.”

My heart started to burn again. I was bristling. I downed the dregs of my coffee.

“A letter? Can you show me this letter?”

“Ashley, I’ve just woken up. I’ll get it for you later. But the fact is …what? Why do you want to see your letter?”

“Because I didn’t write one, Bess.”

“You fucking did. You gave notice on your room, Ash. Because you’d moved in with Brandon. That’s what you said. We can’t fund an empty room here, none of us can, so we talked to a few girls in the department and…”

“Bess, you’ve given my room to someone else?”

“Um. Yes. Because of your letter, Ash. You dumped us in it. You moved out on us. We had to move quick-smart or we’d be liable for a month’s rent. You do understand that right?”

I nodded, but my face must have been deadly serious with unhidden anger.

“The new girl paid a deposit and we made her sign an agreement so she couldn’t do what you just did to us, Ashley.”

“Bess. I told you. I didn’t do anything, you did hear that, didn’t you Bess?”

Bess’s face froze. She was stuck. She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m sorry Ash. We signed an agreement with this girl - we didn’t have one with you. She has rights now.”

“What about my rights? What about my stuff?”

“It’s all there piled up in the corner of your room. I was going to call you about it this weekend, but I’ve been busy too.”

“Jesus, Bess.”

“Hey, this is not my fault.”

“No. And it’s not mine either. The stuff will have to stay here a little while, Bess. Stick it in the laundry cupboard until I can get fixed up.”

“I thought you were fixed up pretty good, from what I heard.”

“Yeah? Is that what you heard? You heard wrong.”

“Sorry, Ash. Look… I’ve got to get ready for work.”

“Yeah. Just drop that letter in to me as soon as you can.”

“I’ll get you a copy later today. I might need the original in case things get… awkward.”

“What? Just give me the damn letter Bess! What, do you think I’m going to take you to court?

Don’t be so ridiculous. This isn’t you fault,” I said, but Bess’s tired face didn’t change. She looked cautious, suspicious even. “Just show me that letter. You’ve evicted me on account of a letter I didn’t write, so the least you can do is show me the bloody thing!”

Her face reddened, and she nodded and moved out of the room. I waited, looking out of the kitchen window over the park behind our building and the views of South London beyond. It turned out that was the last time I would ever see that view

Within an hour of leaving my old place I was back at Brandon’s flat. Bess hadn’t even given me the letter. She said she couldn’t find it, but Bess seemed afraid of repercussions and I didn’t believe her. Either way, I think I knew where that letter had come from. I had to work out how to play this from now on. So far no one but me knew that I intended to leave Brandon, but with no home to call my own, I was between a rock and a hard place. I paced up the stairs and saw Amanda watching television in the front room. She looked round at me, a triangular slice of brown toast and honey in her hand.

“I thought you’d gone.”

“So did I. Is he awake yet?”

“Does it look like it?”

I shook my head and walked away. She was still playing the fool, but I knew her reasons. I tried the handle of Brandon’s bedroom door, and opened it quietly. There he was, his big muscular bare chest exposed, his finely toned pectoral muscles and well defined biceps in all their glory. I closed the door and stood there briefly and annoyingly mesmerised by his male beauty and filled with resentment for him at the same time.  I moved and he didn’t wake up. I dumped my bag carefully and walked across to the bed. Right there and then I could have done anything to him. I could have poured cold water over his head, or emptied the trash on him, or slapped his face as hard as I wanted to. I stood there looking down, appreciating the curves of his body, the stripped down fatless tone of his abs, all the way down to where the duvet covered his modesty. Even at rest, without trying at all, Brandon had a very fine body to look at. I laid my hand gently on his bicep and looked at my finger nails. I didn’t go for the crazy varnishes, but I had good French-polished nails. They were strong. I could have scratched him to ribbons. After all he had done to me he deserved it. He didn’t stir. Strangely, as angry as I was, I found his sleeping state and his exposed body strangely alluring. I could have hurt him. I could have kissed him. I hated what Brandon was doing to me. On the one hand he was ruining my life, a fact which no one but Cody had seemed to notice. On the other hand, they didn’t notice because he was also Brandon Lynes, writer, personality, and all around local Adonis. Right now I had a foot in both camps. I traced my finger gently along the curve of his bicep, contemplating scratching his skin until he bled all the while, and then I slid my fingers across the his chest, feasting on the smooth skin and supple muscle, enjoying the hard ridges and the contours of his musculature. When I reached his abs, it must have started to tickle, because Brandon stirred. His big blue eyes opened when my hand was touching his lower abdomen, just an inch above that inviting duvet. He looked up at me. He looked down at my hand, and he smiled.

“Hey baby. Where’ve you been?”

I took my hand away, but the sense of his gorgeous body still resonated within me. I kept my tone hard, but I knew that I was equally full of attraction for him. I wondered if he could read it in my eyes. Guys like Brandon… yeah, they usually could.

“Why did you do it, Brandon?”

“What?”

“You cost me my job. And now you got me evicted from my flat. How dare you?”

“Oh.” That was it. He slapped a hand across his head and wiped his brow then he sat up. “I want you to live with me, baby. I want my gorgeous little girl to stay with me. And do you know why?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Do you want me to show you why?” Brandon folded back the duvet cover and I saw his hip, and hint of what else I would like to have seen.

“Get in bed.”

“Brandon! You’re nuts. You’re all about control. You’re taking control of my whole life. It’s not fair! It’s scary!”

“I like to be in charge. Don’t you like that?”

“No!”

“I saw your eyes, Ashley. You thought I was asleep. You were going to touch me, right? Maybe it’s your turn to be in charge, huh? Is that what you want?”

I wanted to tear his skin. I wanted to bite him. I wanted to shout in his face, and all the while his big blue eyes were playing with me. His supple body called me. The half open duvet lured me.

“You’re a bastard, Brandon. Do you know that?”

“If you say so.” He took my hand and laid it on his thigh just by his crotch. His warmth made me heat up inside, the rage mingling with the heady feeling I was experiencing since raking my hand over his sleeping body. I was tingling and hit with guilt at the same time. I was aroused, cheeks flushed and sensed my juices were flowing. I was such a fool for this guy, such a freaking idiot, it was like I wanted to be played by him. My hand stilled as I struggled with the idea of running from the room, but the heat in my abdomen, and my lust-drunken head won. I slid my hand down his thigh and found his swollen penis calling me. The shaft of his big cock throbbed in my hand and I knew he needed me. It was good to be needed, even by a bastard like him. I knelt on the bed and he smiled. I began to play with his dick, teasing him, telling myself I could use this as a kind of revenge. I pulled at the length of him, and teased the head of his cock with a finger. His cock was moist there, and all ready to go.

“I’m in charge?” I asked.

He nodded. “It looks like you are right now.”

I pushed his body back down onto the bed, and drew back the duvet cover. His throbbing cock was pointing to the ceiling, fully engorged. I weighed his testicles in my hand. They felt full.

“Oh, you need me, Brandon.”

“That’s right. I do.”

“And what if I don’t want to?”

“Don’t be cruel, honey. I saw your eyes looking at me.”

“Shut up. I’m so sick of your bullshit, Brandon.” He smiled and stayed quiet. His cock throbbed again and I let go. I didn’t want him coming in my hand. I was in charge, and I wanted something out of this. I slid off my jeans. I dropped my panties too, business-like, like a guy about to do the deed. He looked over at my body, and I felt his eyes on my pubic mound and my hips.

“Stop looking. This is my game. Close your eyes.”

“But, shit, you look good.”

“Shut up.”

He did as I told him.

I pushed my body over his, and straddled him with my thighs over his hip bones. I knew he loved the soft skin of my thighs and I used them against him, sliding my weight up and down until his laser-guided cock nudged against my labia. I could feel his body tense with expectation. I must have been wet because his penis almost pushed straight into me but I denied him and denied myself. I was going to enjoy this game. I laid my hands on his chest and stroked and revelled in the touch of his chest. I trailed my hands down over his six pack and down the line of the V of his abs which led down to his bush of dark hair. I could feel his pubic hair against my pussy, spreading my wetness on him. I felt his cock throbbing harder than ever, its head nudging my ass hole. I was ready now. It was my time.

“You’re a fucking bastard, Brandon. You got that right?”

He laughed. “Yeah. I heard you.”

“Good,” was all I said. I tilted my body down over him, and pushed back. My body’s push forced his hardness into the only available place it could go – my slick and hungry vagina. I pushed down, and felt my pussy expand as it absorbed him and then shocked and full, I pushed down so my clitoris rubbed against his body. I felt the first wave of drunken desire blend into a hint of ecstasy. He groaned. “Shut up.” I said.  I pushed my body up and almost pulled away. The head of his penis lingered between my labia. I teased him. I teased myself. I was hot now, filled with lust and I needed to be full. I pushed back down on him, hard, until I absorbed every millimetre of his manhood. Then I ground my body around, pushing my mound onto him, thrusting up and back, riding him, making his penis rub the hottest pleasure-pain makers in my entire body. It felt like I was going to burst. I groaned and so did he. “Shut up,” I whispered, as heat and an explosion of sweetness flooded upwards from the throbbing in my clitoris. I was gone. I groaned and pushed and rocked down on him, making his cock stick into the deep of me. I hated him, but he felt so good inside me. Then I felt his body tense - his cock swelling so I knew he was about to cum. I opened my eyes and looked at his closed eyes and open mouth and I grinned. I pushed my hands down onto his stomach and pushed my body up and off him. His throbbing manhood was slick with my juices. His eye blinked open, but he was too far gone to stop what was about to happen. I watched his cock throb up and spurt a shot of pearl white cum into the air, landing on his abdomen, and into the mess of his pubic hair. As he groaned and reached for me, I was already pulling on my jeans.