Chapter Six
Breathing hard, the black spots still dancing before his eyes from the intensity of his orgasm, Jake held the girl close, savouring the feel of her. It felt so right, her in his arms, holding her. It always did. Even when everything around them was wrong, she felt right.
She was perfect.
“That was… something.”
Snuggling closer, Vickey murmured a sleepy “Mmm-” She stiffened, “Oh God.”
“Why, thank you, angel, but I’m just a man.” The joke came easily to his lips, even as his insides knotted at her tone. Fear? What could she have to be afraid of with him?
“I-I have…” Her voice was weak, but the force with which she pushed away from him was as strong as ever. She looked a state. Sweater crumpled and creased. Skin flushed. Hair dishevelled. Lips bruised and swollen. All the hallmarks of a woman who’d just been thoroughly shagged and was about to take the walk of shame. “I have to go.”
Jake watched her go about getting dressed, noting with a small sense of satisfaction the way her legs were shaking as she struggled to pull her jeans on while still wearing those slip-on shoes. She didn’t look at him. Rather, she seemed to be making a point of looking anywhere but. Then she was gone, stumbling away from him, away from the dark, around a bend into the light as the dancefloor beyond was suddenly lit up and shouts and cheers trumpeted Merry Christmas.
Jake watched her go. He didn’t say a word, only watched with a bemused smile playing across his lips, and when she was gone, he slumped back against the wall. The wall he’d just so readily fucked her against.
He fumbled to do his jeans up with only the slightest care. The task made all the more awkward for the fact he was still hard as a rock. Once was never enough with that girl. He couldn’t explain it, but there was just something about her that made him able to go all night. When he was satisfactorily covered, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a box of fags and his old regimental lighter. He shook a cigarette free, took it between his lips and, with a practised flick of his wrist and lit the end. Ignoring the No Smoking sign hanging barely a metre away, he took a long drag, let out a breath of grey smoke, and began to laugh.
“God, I love you Vickey Romano.”
High above, sunken into the ceiling, one of Seven’s numerous security cameras continued to record.