Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-Two

Julian

Peter was quiteat odds with the people I’d known back in Oxford. Katreya and I had usually associated with business colleagues, and outside of that I’d had my circle of university friends, who’d been raised in the same kind of educational background. The contrast was palpable.

Peter was grounded, very down to earth, with a battered self-image that I recognised in myself. I liked him.

He peeled potatoes while I herbed up the steaks. His hands were huge and rugged, unlike mine. My hands had never seen what Peter would call hard graft, much more suited to a keyboard than anything labour intensive. Amidst our laughter and chatting, my mind whirred through the things Rosie had shared with me about his relationship with Lola.

I knew Peter was as sex-obsessed as I was. Well… almost. I also knew he was an extremely rough player, and that Lola had taken his entire hand in her sweet little pussy.

“Do these look alright?” Peter asked as he finished up cutting the potatoes into chunks.

“Perfect, thank you.”

“Got to admit, Lola does the cooking, usually. She learned it from her mum.”

I used that as the opportunity to dig into their dilemma.

“How does Lola handle being without her mother? I know she and Rosie have shared some similar emotions on that front.”

“It’s shit,” he said. “Can’t help but blame myself. I’ve tried talking to Steph to smooth things over, but she won’t have any of it. Screams that I’m a sick fuck and slams the door in my face. Lola doesn’t get it much easier.”

“Do you think that will ever change?”

“Gotta hope, haven’t you? Don’t think I’ll ever be invited over for a Sunday roast, but if Steph finally speaks to Lola again, I’ll be a very happy guy. She needs that.”

I knew that Rosie shared that need. She needed contact from her mother, too. I’d been holding her through plenty of tears, even though she was trying to play it down. I knew being away from Beverly was stabbing her deep in the heart, as it would any young woman losing her parent. Or any child losing their parent.

A flashing image of Grace and Ryan came to me that I had to push aside. Hard.

Peter liked drinking whisky, as did I. We tried a few different blends after delivering the girls the rest of the bottle of wine to the coffee table. It was clear Peter was seeking a friend in me, just as I was unknowingly seeking out a friend in return. He stayed alongside me as I began to fry the potatoes, even taking care of them himself while his partner and I shared a cigarette out of the window.

“Lola said you’re an author,” Peter said, when I returned to the kitchen.

I chuckled. “A wannabe author. I had a massive pile of rejection letters when I was younger, and gave up when I became a lecturer. Limited time and a bigger dose of realism.”

“I used to draw when I was younger. I was normally busy helping my dad out on jobs around school, but when I wasn’t, I’d get a sketchbook and do some scribbling. It was all shit, but I liked it.” He paused. “Lola says your writing is great, though.”

I chuckled again. “Lola hasn’t read any of my writing. She’s heard that second hand from Rosie, who is very biased.”

“Will you let her read some of it? She’s been harping on about it for days.”

A few whiskies had definitely helped lighten me up. The idea seemed more appealing than I’d anticipated.

“Maybe. It’s quite extreme.”

“She’ll like that. She likes it extreme.”

“So I’ve heard. I’m sure you’ve heard the same in return.”

I saw him look at the whisk in the utensils pot, and yes, he knew. Lola enjoyed talking to Peter, just as Rosie enjoyed talking to me.

“People say I’m a nasty freak,” Peter sighed. “They’d think I was a lot nastier a freak if they knew the full story. They’d say I’m a filthy piece of shit.”

“Rosie has helped me a lot with self-reflection. She asked some key basic questions about my past that couldn’t help but hit home. I’ll grace you with her wisdom. Is it consensual? With Lola?”

“Yeah, of course, always. Totally.”

“And she’s legal age. She knows her own mind?”

He laughed. “Yeah, she definitely knows her own mind.”

“There you go, then. You aren’t a criminal.”

He watched me take another swig of whisky before I resumed stirring the potatoes.

“Do you believe that now? That what you did was right? Back in Oxford, I mean. Not just here.”

“I’m trying to, but regardless of the answers to those key questions, it was an abuse of professional power, and I was a married man. They are very different circumstances to yours.” I looked at him in honesty. “The people in Dine’s Green are after you purely because of the age gap between you and Lola. Brush it off. You’ve fallen for her, she’s fallen for you. You shouldn’t be a convict. You were neighbours who fell in love.”

“I love your take on it.”

“It’s true. My crimes are tenfold of yours.”

“Maybe in the past. Not with Rosie, though. Same scenario. Here it’s just about the age gap. You were neighbours who fell in love.”

I smirked, repeating his sentiment. “I love your take on it.”

“Maybe we should take each other’s take on it, then.”

“Quite.”

He was correct. I didn’t judge Peter and Lola’s relationship as anything other than a large age gap that people had an aversion to. Was my own situation any different in this instance? No. It wasn’t.

“Rosie’s really cute,” Peter said. “Lola’s been singing her praises every five seconds.”

“Same in return. Rosie’s had plenty of nice things to say about Lola. I’m very happy for them. She’s an artist, yes? Rosie’s seen some of her work. She says it’s exceptional.”

“It is, yeah. She’s fantastic, always blows me away. She takes in every single thing she can from art college and makes it a bloody masterpiece. I just wish I’d done the same when I was her age. I might still be shit, but I’d have had a chance at getting better.”

“Do you still give it a go?”

“Sometimes. I show Lola most of it, but some bits I don’t.”

I knew that feeling. It was another round of mutual territory between us.

The girls laughed loudly enough from the living room that we heard them over the steaks sizzling. Peter grinned as he heard it.

“Thanks for having us here, seriously. It’s ace. Just what we needed.”

“Touché. You’re very welcome.”

I looked at him once I’d flipped the steaks again, imagining how freeing it would be to see Peter and Lola out in public together without the confines of the estate that had boxed them in. Not in Crenham, with the same judgemental attitude, but far away. Somewhere more cosmopolitan.

Maybe I could arrange some time away, for all four of us. I’d talk to Rosie about it.

Dinner was a delight. The drink flowed and the steaks were devoured, and Peter smiled proudly as I told Lola what a fantastic chef’s assistant he’d been.

“I’ll be remembering that,” she giggled, gesturing at him with her wine glass. “You’ve made a rod for your own back, now. You can be peeling potatoes in the kitchen with me.”

Somehow I doubted it would be a rod for his own back he’d be making. I could already see the hunger he had in his eyes for the little minx sitting opposite him. His sexuality was definitely a beast, enlivened by the whisky, as was mine. Rosie was shooting me glances of her own, and it was clear that the girls had been talking dirtily about us while we’d been busy in the kitchen. The sexual tension was intense. I knew the question was coming from Rosie before she even spoke.

“Can Lola read some of your chapters, Julian? She’d really like to.”

“Yeah, I would. Please,” Lola chimed in. “I love that kind of thing.”

“Filthy erotica, you mean?” I said, with a smirk. “My chapters are very hardcore. I’m sure you know that already, though.”

“Yeah, I do.” She laughed. “It’s why I want to read it even more.”

Peter nudged my elbow. “Let her read a load of it, please. I’ll get the benefits back home later.”

I still felt slightly strange about the idea as I sipped at my whisky. Letting Lola read my writing would feel as though I was being exposed, somehow. Not from the content per se, but from the exposure of my emotional and creative process.

“Go on, Julian,” Rosie pushed. “Say yes!”

Her wine drunk eyes were so imploring. Her voice so sweet.

“How could I ever refuse you anything?” I said, then looked at Lola. “Yes, you can read some of my chapters. I’d be honoured.”

That sealed the deal. As soon as we’d finished up the apple and blackberry crumble I’d made for dessert, I cleared the table with Peter’s help and set up my laptop for Lola. My nerves were uncharacteristically thrumming as she devoured the pages with Rosie alongside her, as though I was awaiting a jury verdict.

One word said it all, when she was done with the very first scene.

“Wow!”

“You enjoyed it?” I asked her, and her nod spoke volumes.

“Enjoyed it?! It’s fucking amazing.” She clapped her hands together. “More, please! I know you’ve got loads of them.”

“Alright,” I said, and called up the next.

Peter and I sat on the chesterfield as the girls read and chatted. I got so many thumbs up and mini rounds of applause, that I became heady on both whisky and satisfaction. I could have played it down as nothing more than two friends having fun and reading hot sex between them, but Lola’s comments and praise were based around more than that – just as Rosie’s were. The pair of them would quote lines that stood out in particular, admiring my prose. They commented on everything from pace, to characterisation, to tension and tiny details. All of which meant a lot.

It seemed that teaching others had most certainly had an impact on my own strengths as a writer. What a welcome benefit.

Before we knew it, the early hours were upon us. The girls were into the realms of giggling drunks, which was deliciously uplifting, and Peter and I had consumed almost a whole bottle of Scotch between us.

“Time to go,” Peter said, finally, and Lola didn’t argue as he called a taxi.

She gave Rosie a huge hug when it was due to pull up outside.

“That was amazing, thanks. See you on Monday.”

Their hug lasted for ages, both of them swaying and clutching each other tight. Rosie virtually leapt into Peter’s arms to say goodbye, as Lola leapt into mine, without hesitation. I looked at Rosie’s arms around Peter’s neck, squeezing in the way I knew. Her eyes were sparkling as she thanked him for coming, and he was still beaming as he gave me a slap on the back and shook my hand.

“Was ace, Julian, thanks so much.”

“See you soon!” Rosie said, as she waved them off from the front door.

The neighbours would be despising me even more after this week. Drunk guests leaving, and a hundred heavy deliveries coming up the stairs. In my drunken state, I found it humorous.

Rosie’s arms were ready for my neck next. I lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around my waist, holding on to me like a koala bear as I walked us through to the kitchen for another drink.

“You’re amazing,” she said with a giggle and a slur.

“And you’re drunk.”

“Yeah. I like it.”

“Like being trashed on wine?”

She looked at me with a beautiful humour as she nodded.

“Yeah, I guess so. Guilty.”

“It seems Lola enjoys a few wines, too.”

“Wine and your chapters… she thought they were mega hot.”

“So I heard.” I poured another whisky with her still in my arms. “I expect Peter will be getting the benefits of that later, if she isn’t so trashed she falls asleep as soon as they’re in through the door.”

“Nah, she won’t be. Wine makes her horny.”

“And how about you?” I bounced her up and down against me. “Is your pussy nice and wet after your drinking session?”

“My pussy is always nice and wet when it’s around you.”

She took my whisky shot from my hand and downed it, then smacked her lips. Oh, yes. She was definitely drunk and horny, and my cock was already straining. I’d been thinking about her cunt for hours, seeing the twinkle in her eyes as she shared my written filth with her new friend.

I didn’t bother pouring another whisky. Instead, I took her back through and placed her butt on the dining table next to my laptop.

“Do you think they’ll be acting some of this out?” I asked her, gesturing to the screen.

She nodded. “Yep. For sure. She loves all of it. Even the whisk.”

“Really?”

Rosie beamed at me. “Yeah. They’ll be trying that out, and who knows? Lola might have slut written on her in marker pen in the morning.”

I pulled Rosie’s dress up so hard it almost tore. She still had dirty bitch scrawled on her stomach from earlier.

“I should have showed her this,” she giggled. “You could have lent them a marker pen and we could have compared styles. Like an art class.”

She was joking, but it sparked a fire in my gut.

“Would you have liked that? To watch her getting scribbled on?”

She laughed so sweetly. “Would be awesome. Really good fun. Maybe we should do it sometime.”

The fire in my gut burned brighter.

“How about a foursome, hey?” I said. “Would you like that? I could show him how to use a whisk. Maybe he could practice on you?”

She was still giggling as she nodded. She was joking, that’s what I told myself, but it didn’t matter, that internal fire blazed at the very thought of Peter touching Rosie’s pussy. Of anyone touching Rosie’s pussy. Of any man touching Rosie anywhere. And I couldn’t hold myself back, I took her cheeks in my hands to make her pout.

“Is that what you want? Two guys? You want both me and Peter?”

She stuck her tongue out, drunk, teasing me.

“What if I did?” she managed to say.

I gripped her cheeks tighter, my whisky breaths growing ragged. My cock was hard, but my fire was raging. A heady combination.

“Is that really what you want?” I asked her. “You want Peter’s cock?”

“No,” she giggled, but I didn’t let her cheeks go. “I only want yours. Peter’s hot, but he’s got nothing on you. Not even close.”

“Peter’s hot?” I let her cheeks go, feeling the fire in my veins.

Her answer was cutely innocent. “Yeah, he’s lovely.”

“That’s not what I asked. I asked if Peter’s hot.”

She saw the flames in my eyes, and my Lilith stirred in front of me. I saw her dancing with the idea of playing with me, just a little.

“Peter is hot, yeah.”

I let my demons run free, unbridled, swimming in the possessiveness I felt over my beautiful little flower.

“Think you could take two cocks, do you?” I ran my fingers up her thigh. “And how about my fist? I know Lola has been singing the praises of taking Peter’s big, rough hand in her cunt.”

Rosie’s eyes were alive. The minx set free.

“I could take whatever you gave me.”

“Let’s see about that.”

I slammed her back onto the table, and she spread her legs as my hands roved over her. I tugged her dress and bra down to free her pretty tits, and she arched as I took one of her nipples in my teeth, sucking hard.

“Yes…” she said. “More…”

I gave her more. I nipped, and sucked and used her tits until she was bruising with love bites, marking her. Claiming her. My fingers worked her clit through her wet panties, and she was a needy bitch, spurred on by her dirty friend.

“You’d better stay right fucking there,” I told her as she came close to coming, my voice low. Possessive.

I marched to the bedroom and grabbed a selection of toys and lube, frantic. My blood was pumping when I got back to the table, dumping the toys next to her before I tore her free of her clothes. And then I wasted no time. I squirted a whole load of lube on the biggest dildo, and she hitched her legs up as I rubbed the head up and down her slit.

“Do it…” she hissed. “Fuck me, hard. Make me fucking take it.”

Jesus Christ!

I slammed it inside her in one, twisting it to make it strain, and she whimpered, tipping her head back and gripping the top of the table behind her head. I couldn’t hold back, consumed by the sight of her pussy taking the pounding. I imagined it as Peter’s cock, and it drove me into a frenzy. I slammed her so hard she was crying out, but she was urging me on. Harder, harder…

“Let’s see if you can really take it, you dirty little slut,” I said, keeping the dildo rammed tight in her pussy as I freed my cock from my pants.

I squirted a token amount of lube on her ass and twisted two fingers all the way in, loving the way she gasped and squirmed as I finger-fucked her dirty hole. My cock was ready, needing her so badly. She yelped when I yanked my fingers free and yelped again as I forced my cock into her puckered little asshole in three thrusts, and her holes gripped like a vice, her delicate little body struggling to take me and the dildo rammed deep. But that didn’t matter. She wanted it. I could see it in her filthy smile.

I used Rosie like a true slut, with two cocks straining her. I craved every whimper and cry she gave as she battled, gritting her teeth as her body learned to accept the pounding, and it was pure, filthy magic.

I had two fat cocks inside my dainty little girl, and she was good enough that she took it for me.

Jesus Christ, how I fucked her. I stretched her, balls thumping against her flesh as I savaged her with thrusts, but that wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed to give her more. For me, not for her. Selfish cunt.

She protested with a nooo as I pulled both the dildo and my cock free in one, both of her holes raw and gaping nicely. But then she realised what I was doing. I lubed up my fist as she watched me, her eyes wide through her wine fuelled haze.

“Oh God,” she said.

“Yes,” I said. “I think your needy cunt is ready for this, don’t you?”

My angel nodded, pushing her glasses up her nose, her mouth gaping open.

Four fingers went in easily, right up to the hilt, my thumb still free to rub at her clit as she pushed back against me. I let her enjoy the clit play until my thumb changed position, lining up along with my fingers, and then I started the true stretch. The lube made her cunt so fucking slippery that she squelched as I eased my hand into her, stretching her a little wider each time. I was reaching the thickest part of my knuckles when she started crying out with the depths of the strain.

“Take a deep breath, like a good girl,” I told her, and she did as she was told.

I eased the widest part of my hand into her, and that deep breath did fuck all. Her whimpers were feral, but she didn’t stop me. She let me work my hand inside her cunt like I was a master. A fucking god.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” I asked, and she nodded.

“Yeah… but I like it…”

“You’re almost there,” I said, “one last push and my hand will be inside you. Think you can take it?”

My sweet Rosie looked me in the eye, teeth gritted. “Yeah,” she said, “I can take it.”

And with that, she pushed. I held my hand firm and she pushed, her cunt literally sucking me in and closing tight around my wrist.

It was a divine sight to see her splayed with my whole fucking fist inside her. She was a creature of pure beauty. My Lilith and Eve in one. My whole seedy universe, and my heart entangled in one beautiful girl.

What a sight. She looked so proud, and deservedly so.

I kissed her deep and hard with my hand in her cunt, and she was perfection. She tangled her fingers in my hair, breathing short and fast against my lips.

“Thank you,” she said, and for once I didn’t protest, because, yes. This time the pleasure was hers, as well as mine. We were both winners riding high. Consumed and crazy.

“What happens now?” she asked when we broke the kiss.

“You come for me,” I said and turned my fist inside her, just a little.

Her breath hitched, she winced, but didn’t complain.

“Legs back,” I said and she carefully lifted her legs back.

Again, what a sight. I only wished I’d taken time to set up the camera.

With her cunt still grasping my wrist, I kissed my way down her stomach, stopping at her engorged clit. And then I sucked, and lapped, and bit down on it, and my slut whimpered, her body soon shuddering.

“Fuck, Julian,” she managed, and she was done, unravelling, twisting and bucking, and just at the right moment, when I knew her orgasm was exploding, I pulled my hand free.

My beautiful slut cried out, squirmed and convulsed, and I held her steady.

Held her in my arms as she whimpered and moaned and breathed so damn hard.

“Good girl,” I said as I picked her up into my arms.

“Did I do ok?” she asked as I carried her through to the bedroom.

“More than ok,” I said as I laid her down. “I’m so very proud.”

“Fuck me, then,” she said, and yes, she was serious.

Dawn was rising when we’d finally finished, both of us spent. Rosie was snoring like a dozing angel when I eased myself away for a cigarette at the living room window. My laptop was still on the dining table, next to the used toys, and I looked at it in the stillness of the morning, remembering the adoration the girls had shown while reading my work.

Did I really believe their praise?

Yes. I did. Despite my inner criticism, I believed their praise.

I didn’t go straight back to bed. No. I didn’t start up a fresh chapter, either. Instead, I called up the name of one of my previous students from over a decade ago, whose career I’d followed as he’d established himself as an exceptional editor.

I checked out his website and found his email address, chiding myself for even entertaining the idea, but my fingers worked on autopilot as I wrote out a message. It was an impromptu decision, but aren’t they always?

I looked at the text onscreen, and the document I’d attached for him, and then I thought, fuck it. Why not? What harm could it do? Why not at least give it a try?

I hit send.