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She nods. “Okay. Anything?”
“Anything,” I confirm. “I’ll start. Where did you learn to suck cock like that?” It’s meant as a lighthearted question, but a part of me is curious too. She’s fucking good, like she’s slipped into a guy’s mind and learned the exact moves, or maybe she’s had a guy teach her.
Meli looks uncomfortable, giving a nervous smile and a shrug, but I see her mind working double time to come up with the right lie to pacify me. “It’s a talent.”
“That you mastered by doing it a lot, or that someone taught you?”
She goes to sit up, laughing nervously. “What is this?”
I take her wrist, keeping her in the bed. “Just curious, and now you’ve reacted like that, I’m intrigued. What aren’t you telling me, Meli?”
“I thought this was a game? It feels serious.”
“Okay, I’ll ask something else.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MELI
I bite my inner cheek to get a grip on my emotions, which are about to boil over. I could be honest. I could tell him that Ripper made me do it over and over until I cried. That he made me vomit numerous times until I did exactly what he wanted me to. Instead, I stay quiet and wait for the next question, which I know will be just as bad and I’ll still be unable to answer honestly.
“How many have you slept with?” He won’t like my answer, and I imagine I won’t like his. He’s got at least ten years on me, and he’s not exactly lacking in the looks or size department.
“This is a stupid game,” I say.
“Amelia, play the game,” he says, pulling me to lie back down. He leans over and takes my nipple in his mouth. He’s not playing fair, and I groan. It shouldn’t feel so good when he’s already taken care of me less than half an hour before.
“I don’t know.”
He frowns. “You don’t know because you don’t want to play the game, or because there’s been too many?”
“Do you know how many you’ve slept with?” He nods. Of course, he does, fucking Perfect Peter. I sigh and reply, “Four.”
He nods, satisfied. “That’s not bad. Why were you so reluctant to answer?”
“Now, your turn.”
“Eleven.” I arch my brows. I expected more, I’ll be honest. “Twelve, I forgot to add you,” he says. “Actually, thirteen because—” I put my hand up to stop him talking. “Can you name them?” he asks, grinning like he thinks this game is fun, clearly oblivious to my discomfort.
“Yes, but I’m not going to.”
“Come on, amuse me.”
“Why do you want to know?” I snap. “It’s weird.”
“Grim was one. Anyone else from the club?”
“Arthur, why does it matter?”
He kisses me again, and I’m starting to realise this is a distraction technique. “I think your monsters are in that club, Meli. I need to know who they are,” he whispers against my lips.
“My monsters are dead,” I snap, pulling the sheet and rolling away from him. “Rosey came back and took care of it.”
“Ripper?” he mutters. Arthur helped hide Ripper’s body, so he knows Rosey took him out.
“So, now you know.” I reach over to the bedside light and turn it off. I’m done talking.
I lie awake, unable to stop the thoughts of Ripper. Arthur tosses and turns for another half-hour before he finally gets out of bed. He takes his mobile phone and leaves without another word. That sends my anxiety to another level, wondering what he’s thinking. Does he think I loved Ripper, a man double my age? Even if he was to ask, I wouldn’t be able to tell him. Where would I even start? Since the day everyone discovered the truth, I haven’t spoken about it. Mav arranged for me to speak to a therapist, but it wasn’t helpful. She wanted to pick everything apart and delve into the deepest depths of my hurt and trauma. It was places I didn’t want to go. I wasn’t ready then, and now, it feels too late, like everyone’s forgotten, and bringing it up again will only open their wounds.
