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22
Licking Trash
Willow
I don’t see Lucafor the rest of the week: he’s out most of the days, probably preparing for his big scary interview, and I’m out most of the nights, actually working for a living.
While he’s gone, I make the most of my time alone in his house. Exploring the rooms, pocketing small valuable objects to pawn for extra cash, and playing with his dogs, who are probably emotionally neglected.
There’s a big fancy garden party coming up soon—a certain Lady Astley is throwing it at her mansion in Chelsea—and all of London’s titled upper crust will be present. My plan is to infiltrate the party and look for Richard Thornton. The other Thorntons are disgraced and living in exile in the South of France, but I know Richard is still in London, and if anyoneis harbouring him here, it must be another aristocratic family. Those old money monsters always protect one another.
But access to a party like that isn’t going to be easy, and charisma and deception will only get me so far. I need cash—a lot of it, and the fastest and easiest access to cash, for now, seems to be Luca’s hunts.
In the meantime, I just have to keep working and bide my time. The waiting drives me a little crazy—waiting for the garden party, waiting to find Richard, waiting for the next hunt—so I try to keep busy.
I try to keep busy and do what I do best: distracting myself.
Enter Colin the Driver.
Colin, one of Luca’sdrivers, is the kind soul who took me back to my flat when I first moved into Fort Fletch and helped me bring my things over. He’s about my age, easy-going, docile and placid. He never makes any complaints when I get him to drive me shopping, or take me to the park for a smoke, or make him go to the drive-thru on the way back to Luca’s house.
Either he doesn’t mind doing whatever I ask, or he’s been taught to obey. All I know is that I might as well take advantage of the perks of being Luca’s live-in human prey.
And since I’m on edge and stressed and desperate for a distraction—and since Luca’s sexual frustration is more contagious than the plague—something’s got to give. As people, I find men repugnant, butsexually,they are the equivalent of a sloppy, greasy burger. Sometimes you just have to satisfy a craving, even when you know you’re going to regret it straight afterwards.
This is why, on the day of Luca’s interview, when Colin the Driver brings me home after a long day shift at the Swing Swan, I tug on his arm and draw him into the house with me.
The dogs look up when I pull Colin into the living room, and Colin stops in his steps.
“Sit,” I command the dogs, and “Come,” I tell Colin.
He’s young—mid-thirties—brown-haired and a bit heavy around the middle, with a slightly droopy mouth and a tinge of melancholy in his eyes.
He obeys me, following me to the couch with an apprehensive look. “Miss Lynch, I should—”
I place my finger on his mouth. “Sh—don’t talk.”
Grabbing his tie, I lead him to the low black couches and push him down. He sits back, in the exact same spot Luca sat in when he forced me to sign that diabolical contract.
Colin’s eyes flick nervously to the doorway, and I let go of his tie long enough to pour him a drink from one of Luca’s ridiculously expensive—and pointless, since he doesn’t even drink—bottles.
I put my hand under his glass as he holds it and tip it gently back, letting it go only when he’s taken a couple of sips.
“He’s out,” I tell Colin as he drinks, voice soft and sweet and comforting. “He’s got an interview. He won’t be back for a while.”
I have no idea how true that is, but who cares. I pull off my jumper and T-shirt and unzip my short black skirt. Wearing nothing but underwear, tights, and boots, I climb on Colin’s lap just like I did with Luca the day before.
Unlike Luca, Colin is more easily convinced. His face is flushed, his dark eyes wide. I take his wrists and place his hands on my breasts. He squeezes them through my bra, and I arch against him, grinding my hips into his.
Unlike Luca, the limp dick wonder, Colin’s cock is a hard ridge pressing against me, and I rub myself against it, seeking a long-needed release.
Colin reaches up to put his mouth against mine, but I turn my head at the last minute and let him kiss my cheek instead. He doesn’t seem to mind. I slide my hips into his, grinding my clit against his hard cock through our clothes.
“Oh, f—fuck,” he mutters in my ear, hands reaching for his belt.
I pull away from him. “No.”
He looks up, confused, mouth slack. I pull on his tie to make him stand up and take his place on the couch. “Get on your knees.”
