Page 15 of London’s Calling, Part 1 (London’s Calling)

Chapter Fifteen

Roni

I down my shot and move back to the dance floor. Arms in the air and hips swaying, I let the music and the alcohol and the high from the charlie I took earlier take me away. I close my eyes as hands grasp my hips, hot breath ghosting over my ear as the guy grinding against me whispers something.

I shake my head, not entirely sure what he said, but I think it was something about finding somewhere quiet to screw. I open my eyes, scanning the crowd until I find who I’m looking for.

Carl, my bodyguard, my father’s hired eyes.

He’s watching me intently, eyes narrowed and a scowl on his face. I did consider sneaking out without him, but why bother. Either way my father is going to be pissed at me.

The guy dancing behind me trails his hands up my body, kissing my neck, and I’ll admit, I’m tempted to fuck him just because I can. Turning my gaze from Carl, I scan the crowd while preventing wandering hands from touching anywhere other than my hips and torso. He’s persistent I’ll give him that.

I spin in the guy’s arms, pushing his hands away from my tits. “Hey, keep it PG, mister. I don’t fuck on the dance floor.” I turn my face away, looking over his shoulder as he leans in for a kiss.

In a sea of bodies, rich honey-coloured eyes watch me from across the dance floor.

My breath stutters as I take him in, hands in his pockets, focus entirely on me and the guy I’m dancing with.

A girl sidles up to him, but he barely acknowledges her as she tries to get his attention.

I watch as his mouth moves, and I’m no lip reader, but I’m sure it was a firm “fuck off”.

I continue dancing as Mickey and I eye one another, heat building, and some innate part of me pictures Mickey’s hands on my body. When the song comes to an end, I glance over my shoulder to find Carl. He’s there, but I don’t think he’s noticed Mickey yet.

I thank the guy, telling him I need to use the bathroom, and then I slip away while Carl’s attention is momentarily captured by two men going at each other just behind him.

I feel Mickey’s eyes on me as I push through the crowd towards the toilets. I shove between the girls lining the corridor queuing for the toilet and make my way to the fire exit door at the end.

“Hey, there’s a line you know!” some girl snarks at me.

I give her the finger over my shoulder as I pass.

As I reach the door, I look behind me and find Mickey pushing his way through after me.

A thrill rushes through me, mixing with arousal and a combination of drugs and alcohol.

I watch him, a smile on my face as I wait till the last minute before slipping through the door into the alley behind the club.

I let the cool night air wash over me, prickling against my sweat covered skin, and I suck in a deep lungful of air.

A second later, it’s knocked from me as a hard body slams into mine, forcing me forward into a small, dark alcove across from the door.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Ice Queen?” he rasps against my ear as I’m spun around, my back hitting the wall.

“Having fun, Rawlins, something you should do more of. Besides, why do you care what I do or who I fuck?”

“Is that what you think? That this is because I give a fuck what you do?” He cages me in, pinning me with his hips, and I can feel his hard length through his trousers.

“I don’t, just so we’re clear, but I’m not in the habit of sharing my toys.

And you, Ice Queen, are my favourite plaything right now. ”

I reach up and run my fingers over his stubble covered jaw.

“Really? Because I heard you don’t mind a little threesome now and then.

” I arch a brow, and he pulls his face away from my touch and snatches my wrist, pinning it to the wall.

“And let’s not forget the Mickey Rawlins I know doesn’t hit the same girl twice.

So, forgive me if I don’t believe you.” My free hand winds around Mickey’s hip, and I grab a handful of his arse, squeezing before pulling him tight against me.

I press my face closer to his, our noses touching. “Is that all for me, Mickey, huh?”

“Too fucking right it is, Ice Queen,” he says a second before his lips slam down on mine.

I open for him, loving the way he tastes, craving the invasion of his tongue as it battles against my own.

Releasing my wrist, his hands tug at the hem of my dress, and I thrust my hips forward as he slips the dress over my bare arse.

Abruptly breaking the kiss and panting, he says, “Is this bare fucking cunt for me?” I shake my head trying to deny there was even a little hope I’d see him tonight.

“I think you’re lying,” he whispers, sliding a finger along my slit followed by a hum when he discovers how wet I am.

“And now I know you’re lying,” he says, driving a finger inside me.

“Fuck!” I cry, spreading my legs and allowing him deeper. My back scrapes against the brick wall, but I don’t care. I need the pain, need to feel him deep inside of me as he calls me out on my bullshit, and I need to feel his hate. My walls tense around his finger, and he adds a second in response.

“Look at you. Fucking loving my fingers inside you.”

“Not…enough,” I rasp out as he curls his fingers inside me, hitting the perfect spot. “I need more, Mickey,” I beg, arching my hips in time with his pumping fingers.

“God damn it, Roni,” he groans, tearing the top of my dress down, releasing a tit.

He bends his head, sucking a nipple into his mouth, twirling his tongue around the tight, aching bud before scraping the edge of his teeth around it.

Bolts of pleasure-pain shoot to my clit, and I’m done with foreplay.

“Mickey,” I warn, drowning with need.

With a final hard suck, he releases my nipple, pulling his fingers from inside me, and I whimper at the loss. How does this man, a man I hate, manage to bring me to my knees?

“Don’t worry, Ice Queen, I’m going to ease that ache.” He kisses me, raw and rough, nipping my lip. “Turn around, hands on the wall.”

I do it, my hands slapping against the rough brick, and as he kicks my feet apart, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me back, I arch my back.

“That’s it, good—”

“Don’t you dare fucking say it, Mickey!” I cut him off, not wanting to hear those words from him. I hate them. Words my father uses when he’s pleased with me. They have no place here.

“Easy,” he soothes. “How about this,” he says, leaning over me. “That’s it, dirty girl.” He slaps my arse, and my pussy pulses, skin tingling with pleasure.

By the time the tingles from his slap subside, he’s there, rubbing his cock along my slit, and doubling my desire to feel him inside me.

“I’m going fill you up. Fill this greedy cunt of yours, dirty girl.” He slams into me, his thrust so powerful, my arms almost buckle with the force.

He powers into me relentlessly. My breath catches on every inhale, and I can feel him so fucking deep inside me.

“Take all of me, my dirty, greedy Ice Queen,” he hisses out between breaths.

I don’t have time to focus on him calling me his. My body is too drunk on pleasure, too lost in the moment and begging to come.

And Mickey doesn’t disappoint, bringing me to the brink minutes later. Only he pauses, refusing to throw me over the edge into blissful euphoria until I beg.

“Beg, Roni. Beg me to let you come.” His voice is strained, and all it does is make me want to see how long he can last.

“Not a fucking chance. I ain’t begging you.”

“Sounded like you were begging five minutes ago when you said ‘Not…enough.’”

“God damn you, Mickey,” I pant out, then I roll my hips, stroking down the length of him.

My move is met with a guttural groan. “Two can play your game,” I grind out between clenched teeth as I attempt to hold off my orgasm and continue to ride him, working my pussy up and down his length.

When I feel his cock swell inside me, I know he’s done for.

With one final roll of my hips, I let my orgasm wash over me. As I knew it would, Mickey follows me.

The alley fills with echoes of our grunts and groans as we ride the high of our fucking. My arms collapse, turning to jelly, but before I can hit the wall in front of me, Mickey’s arm wraps around my waist, holding me up.

Pulling me up and flush with his body, he whispers, “Such a dirty, naughty girl.” He drops a hand between my legs as he slowly withdraws his cock, gliding a finger over my clit before dipping inside me.

His other hand comes up to cup my chin, tilting my head back to rest on his shoulder, then he brings the finger that was inside me seconds ago to my mouth.

“Taste us, Ice Queen,” he says, pushing his finger into my willing mouth.

I suck, swirling my tongue the length of his finger and lapping up every last drop of us as Mickey leaves a trail of fiery kisses along my neck.

The sweet and sour of our hate and desire, and I’ve never tasted something so fucking decadent in my life.

I don’t want to question that thought too closely.

Mickey pulls his finger from my mouth, and I reluctantly let him. Releasing my chin, he carefully recovers my breast before pulling my dress back down. The gentlemanly gesture is a complete contrast to the man who just fucked me within an inch of my life against a wall in an alley.

It means nothing.

Keeping that thought at the front of my mind, I blank my expression and spin around, resting against the wall as I watch him tucking himself away.

Clearly sensing my eyes on him, he looks up at me from beneath his hair, which has fallen forward. His amber eyes are alight and remind me of a cat at night, hunting its prey, but the smile he’s wearing says he enjoyed his meal.

Finished doing up his trousers, he steps forward, caging me in with a hand either side of my head, then he lowers his head and kisses me. When he’s had his fill, he breaks the kiss, licks his lips, then says, “Delicious and a—” The rest of his words are lost as someone calls my name.

Fuck! It’s Carl.

I look in the direction the call came from and see someone striding toward me. I turn back to Mickey to tell him to go, but he’s already gone. Pushing away from the wall, I scan the alley for any sign of him, but it’s like he simply vanished.

“Veronica!” Carl says again as he reaches me. “What the fuck are you doing out here, and who was that?”

I ignore him and storm off in the direction he came.

“Hey! How do you expect me to do my job if you keep disappearing on me?” he snaps as he stomps after me.

“Sounds like a you problem.”

“Very mature, Roni. You know I have to tell—”

Spinning around so fast I almost lose my balance and point my finger at him. “Tell my father like a good little soldier, huh? Go ahead. And don’t call me Roni because we are not friends, Carl. Something you continue to prove.”

Carl doesn’t bother talking to me after that, but our journey home is strained with him constantly watching me through the rear-view mirror. I’d think it was creepy if I wasn’t too busy thinking about Mickey.

I’m meant to hate him—I do hate him! So why the fuck is my body alive and craving more of him, his touch, his kisses, his taste?

I need to shut that shit off and focus on doing what my father asked. I can’t afford to fuck this up.