“I’m Eric Mason.” Eric gestured to Charlie. “This is Charlie Adley.” Then Eric came to me and hooked his arm around my neck. I put my gaze back on Cheska. “And this is Arthur Adley.” Eric gave the pricks on the opposite yacht a mocking bow. “Nice to fucking meet you.” His humour dropped. “You might have heard of us.”
The twat who had kissed Cheska and opened his fucking trap lost his superior smirk. The blood drained from his face. Of course the arsehole had heard of us. Cheska’s mates, who had been lying on loungers, quickly looked at Cheska. She was watching me like a hawk. Her eyelids lowered slightly, and a flush crept up her neck. I wanted to follow that flush with my tongue, and I knew Chelsea Girl would fucking love it.
“Come on,” the twat said to his mates, who were practically pissing themselves in fear behind him. Bravado fucking lost. “Let’s get a drink below deck.” They scurried away like the cowardly rats they were, and Cheska’s friends quickly trotted behind them.
“Come on,” Eric said to us all. “Let’s hit the beach bars. Posh pussy is too much like hard graft. And if I have to look at those twats again, I’m going to end them.” He waggled his brows. “Can’t have too much fun on day one or the rest of the holiday will be a fucking bust. Best keep the bloodshed until near the end. Go out with a fucking bang.”
Freddie laughed and threw his arm around Eric’s shoulders, the clown tattoos looking as though they were crawling off his skin.
“Beach bar. Bloody brilliant,” Charlie said sarcastically as Eric and Freddie headed off the yacht to the marina. Charlie put his hand on Vinnie’s shoulder. “Let’s get trolleyed, old boy. Let you scare the fuck out of the tourists for a bit. It’ll be fun.”
“I like this game. It’ll be fun until Pearl wakes up.” Vinnie cracked his knuckles and skipped to the back of the yacht. Charlie turned back around to me. I hadn’t moved. I was too fixated elsewhere. “If I’m enduring sand in my fucking arse crack, so are you, cousin,” he said.
I flicked my chin, wordlessly telling him I’d be right there. When he didn’t move, I sent a glance his way. Charlie frowned, then looked toward Cheska, who was still stood on the sun deck of her yacht, still in my line of sight. “Bloody hell,” he muttered and disappeared.
I lit up another cig as Cheska kept flitting her eyes to me. I pushed one hand into my shorts pocket. Her green-brown eyes raked over my body, hooking on my tattoos of Big Ben and old London Town on my torso. Her cheeks blazed again, and I felt my dick start to swell. She edged closer to the side of the yacht. I stayed still, watching for what she’d do. Her tits were still only a handful, but they would fit fucking perfectly in my hand. I took another drag of my cig just as Cheska reached the railing.
After a few seconds of staring into the water beneath her, she lifted her head and went to open her mouth, but Twatface appeared behind her. “Ches?”
Her shoulders sagged. I wondered if she wanted this cunt to fuck off as much as I did. I wanted to hear her voice. I wanted to know what she was going to say to me after five years. When Twatface saw me, he fought to look hard by holding his shoulders back and narrowing his eyes at me. He was probably trying not to shit himself.
The minute I smirked at his feeble attempt, he tensed. Panic filled his face. Taking Cheska’s hand, he pulled her back. “Come on, Ches. Let’s go.” Cheska followed him, and I watched her go, letting nicotine fill my lungs.
As Cheska took one last look at me over her shoulder, I flicked my cig overboard and walked from the sun deck to follow my mates. As I hit the pavement on the marina, all my brothers were waiting. I glanced up at Cheska’s yacht, and like five years ago, in the top window stood Chelsea Girl, green-brown eyes fixed on me, watching me go.
The coke and molly ran thick in my blood. Coloured lights circled the dancefloor, and trance music pounded from the speakers all around us. Some bird in a short blue dress climbed all over me, her over-filled lips kissing my neck as I drank whisky and smoked my joint. I was too fucking wasted to push her off. I rolled my head to the dancefloor, watching people grinding against each other from our table in the VIP room as the slut’s hand slipped inside my shorts and ran over my boxers, stroking my dick. Everyone was off their tits on drugs and booze and the freedom that came with their two weeks’ holiday in the sun, away from England’s grey skies and their fucking mundane lives.
The slut on my lap cupped my dick just as a group of people moved to a table beside us. The green laser lights in the club reflected off my glasses, blurring my sight … but as I narrowed my gaze, I saw a brunette in a fitted pink dress … and then she was all I could fucking see. Brown hair down her back, long legs, tight-as-fuck body … and her focus right on me.
Cheska.
When the lights switched from green to yellow, she became crystal clear. I smirked, only for that smirk to drop when Twatface from the yacht grabbed her face and kissed her. My heartbeat pounded in my ears; the drugs swelled my veins and fucked my brain. Cheska kissed him back, half-arsed. Her eyes were open. They were fixed on me.
“Fuck me,” the whore on my lap said. She was a total slapper. And she was gagging for my cock. In truth, she’d seen us in the VIP and wanted to escape the rammed main dancefloor for a night and be around the men who could give her free drinks. But she hadn’t stopped touching me since she clapped eyes on me. “Touch me,” she said again. I didn’t want to touch this rancid bitch. I just couldn’t be arsed to fight her off. The drugs were quick and she was here, nothing more to it. I wasn’t fucking this slut’s hole for all the money in the world … but now Cheska was here.
And I wanted to see her burn.
Eyes locked on Cheska, whose mouth was getting sloppily fucked by Twatface’s tongue, I slid my hand under the slut’s dress. Cheska’s gaze followed my every move. My attention never moved from her. I pushed the slut’s thong aside and slipped a finger inside her. The whore on my lap screamed, her nails digging into my shoulders.
Twatface kissed down Cheska’s neck, sucking on her skin, giving her full view of me and what my hand was doing. Cheska’s eyes widened, and her cheeks blazed. Her chest lifted up and down, fucking breathless, as I plunged my fingers into the slut’s pussy. I couldn’t give a fuck about getting this bitch off. But I wanted Cheska to see this whore as her. Her on my fucking lap, not getting slobbered on by the prick currently trying to eat her neck.
The slut screamed out and her pussy tightened around my fingers as I made her come. The loud music drowned out her screams, but I knew Cheska had heard her by the parting of her lips. The slapper tried to collapse against me, but I pushed her back from me by her forehead, done with having her anywhere near me. “Get the fuck off,” I said, not even looking in her direction. I pushed her arse off me, dumping her in the chair, and got to my feet.
I needed a fucking cig.
I crossed the room and pushed outside into the alleyway. I pulled a cig from my pocket and sparked up, inhaling deep. The door opened beside me, and I looked up and saw Chelsea Girl slip through. It slammed shut behind her, making her jump. I put my cig in my mouth and faced her, leaning against the wall. Like she felt the weight of my stare, she turned from the door and faced me.