Breaking Leila (23 page)

At some point,
Nikolai gestured to where the boys had been sitting, with a
paranoid scowl, and I turned to find their seats empty. Caroline
left to join her husband and we walked over, observing the
abandoned jackets and half empty glasses.

Nikolai winced.
“You don’t think they…?”

“Matt and Aidan? No.
 
No
.
They must have gone to the bathroom or something…come on.” I
dragged him out into the lobby, where he inspected the men’s
toilets. He came out shrugging.

“No luck?”

“Nope.”

“Do you two
have a room here? Maybe they went there.”

“Why would they
do that?” he asked suspiciously.

I touched his
arm. “Nikolai. As much as I don’t think they’re making sweet love
right now, Aidan is a whore. Not just a paid one–a philandering,
dripping great heap of cockfodder. Don’t get too attached to him,
okay?”

He squared his
shoulders indignantly. “I’m not, like, even that into him.”

“Well then.
Stop pouting.” I poked his chin.

A burst of
drunken singing erupted outside, and we edged through the other
guests to the door.

“Custard is
like a Band-Aid. Custard can change the world. Check in my pants
for custard because–”“

“–
I’m not a pansy
girl!
”

Matt and Aidan
knelt next to one of the grand fountains, singing to what appeared
to be a topiary octopus.

“Oh God,” I
mumbled.

“Gabe fucking
Tovey?” said Nikolai.

“Indeed.”

“Because
without the custard,” Matt bellowed, “you’d have a shitty world
full of shitty girls.” A theatrical swoop of the hands. “And how
would you cut the mustard?”

Aidan did something that I think was
 
meant
 
to be air guitar. “Set your
egg nog free on the white wad,” he crooned.

Nikolai did a
very bad job of containing his laughter, rocking with little
snorts.

“Matthew!” I
called.

He looked up
and threw out his arms. “Lei-Lei!”

I walked over
and tried to pull him up.

“What the fuck
is up with that nickname, anyway? Sounds like something I’d order
from the Chinese.”

“It’s
 
my
 
nickname for her,” Aidan announced. “I will charge you every
time you use it.”

I helped Matt
to his feet and brushed the dust from his trousers.

“Sorry Mum,” he
said sheepishly.

“What have you
two been doing?” I said.

“I took him up
the arse with a stray piece of topiary,” said Aidan.

Matt nodded,
straight-faced. “It was magnificent. I might write a song about
it.”

Nikolai looked
dubious again. I shot him a smile that bounced straight back.

Aidan came over and put an arm around Matt’s shoulders. “This
guy,” he said loudly, “
this
guy
 
is
amazing, Lei-Lei. I mean, he knows what all the big words on my tax
return are. And he can drink five Sambucas in fifty-three
seconds.”

I grimaced.

“No,” Matt slurred, “
this
 
guy is amazing. He actually brought his tax return so we’d
all get on and stuff. I thought he’d be a fucktard, Leila, but he
knows all the words to
 
Egg Fuck
. I want to punch him because he does those
things
 
to you but also…also…I want to
hug him!”

Without any
warning, he hurled himself at Aidan in a rough embrace. I choked
slightly, caught between two thick torsos.

“Five Sambucas,
huh?” I spluttered.

“I know.” Aidan
sighed. “I’m so proud.”

“I think it
might be time for me and Matt to go home now. Aidan, Nikolai is
getting jealous. You’d best go and do bad things to him before he
combusts.”

“He’s all
Greek and smouldering. Look at him, Matt-Matt,” he gushed.

“Don’t call me
Matt-Matt. I could still punch you.” Matt made a feeble fist and
waved it aloft.

I coaxed it
back down again. “I’m going to call a cab and get you some coffee.
Let’s go and sit down, okay?”

“I’m going
where you’re going.” He smiled, trailing after me with heavy
steps.

We left Aidan
and Nikolai doing something graphic and noisy by the fountain, and
I draped Matt over a sofa while I fetched the coffee. He downed a
cup in seconds and smacked it back on the table.

“I’m having a
great time, you know,” he declared, “but they’re still playing that
twiddly shite and I haven’t had a go with a lightsabre.”

I glanced about
at all the breakable antiques. “I think that’s probably for the
best.” In the light of the ornate old lamp, he looked so foppish
and vulnerable. “Do you always get this drunk at weddings?”

“No, but I’m here with you. And you’re so lovely. So lovely,
Leila.” He paused to pour more coffee. “All these people here you
could have…well, have probably
 
had
…and you’re here with me.”

“Yes, I
am.”

Sugar scattered
around his cup. “I don’t really understand it.”

I craned my
neck to check outside for the cab; the drive was empty. “Does it
matter?”

He draped his
arm around me on the back of the sofa. “Not now, no. Coffee?”

“Not really a
non-Starbucks person.”

“I don’t think
you need it as much as me anyway.” He finished another cup.
“Where’s Aidan?”

“Aidan is
molesting a poor young lad outside. I suggest you stay away unless
you fancy a spot of dogging.”

He looked
confused. “Is it still dogging if they’re doing it next to an
octopus?”

I put a hand on
his thigh to steady myself laughing. “I can see how you got into
LSE now, such a critical brain.”

He stroked my
hand, smiling languorously. “Too right.”

A horn sounded
outside and I ran into the ballroom to fetch his jacket. He managed
to walk in an almost-straight line to the car and was evidently
quite pleased with himself.

Aidan and
Nikolai were nowhere to be seen. I suspected they might have fallen
into the fountain.

Street lights
swished past the cab, catching on the edges of our trail. We
travelled in easy silence. It was…nice.

“Looky, you.
I’m sobering up.” Matt yawned as we crept up the stairs. “I seem to
remember doing the robot to bagpipes though, so I’m not entirely
sure.”

“Yep, you did
that.” I paused outside his bedroom door. “This is my stop.”

“It is.” He
fumbled about with his collar. “Will you be all right?”

“I’ll cope.” I
found myself gazing up at him. “If that’s your way of asking to
join me, you know what my answer is.”

“No, I…I’m
going to bed,” he mumbled. “Sleep well, babe.”

I reached up to
hug him, wrapping my arms round his neck. Picture frames trembled
on the wall as he fell against me, and shoved me back. He smelled
like fresh green leaves–topiary?–and alcohol, a memorable mix.

I brushed my
teeth and fell into bed in a most unladylike manner, kicking off my
heels last. The bed, while beautiful, was so huge with just me
beneath the sheets, and how strange did an apparently willing man
have to be, to stay across the hall and not lie naked beside me?
Whispers of his half-drunk breath still mingled with mine.

My thoughts
strayed to the text that sat unanswered on my phone.

Would Joseph
still be awake? Probably. Should I be responding in the first
place? Probably not. He never complained that I didn’t. I sometimes
mused that his messages were much like the rhetorical questions he
would toss at us in meetings. His thoughts were what mattered…he
was just throwing them out there.

Then I had
Matt, probably asleep by now, who had been lovely to me tonight. It
could have all gone so wrong and it hadn’t. There’d been no
arguments, no sharp remarks, save my lead balloon about the
threesome. The Charlie Problem languished somewhere below all that,
but I ignored it, sinking into a fantasy where Matt lay underneath
me and I tasted the skin at the hollow of his throat. No more
knives.

My phone buzzed
loudly.

“Matt?” It was
hard to keep my voice down.

“Sorry,” he
said huskily. “I can’t sleep.”

“Won’t you wake
Toby?”

“He’s not here
yet. Probably off his face somewhere in town.”

“Rock and
roll.”

“Yeah. So…what
are you doing?”

I twisted a
ringlet around my finger. “I was thinking about you,” I
half-whispered.

“Yeah?”

“About what
might be happening if you were here in bed with me.”

“I was thinking
about that too.” Bedding rustled. “Are you still wearing that
dress?”

“No.” I bit my
lip. “Are you still wearing that suit?”

“No.”

The line went
dead and a moment later, the door clicked open. Matt’s
broad-shouldered shadow poured over the bed. I gathered the sheet
around my bare breasts, smiling at him as he walked in. He wore
just his boxer shorts.

“Seemed silly
to stay there,” he murmured, the bed bracing with his weight. “Like
talking on paper cups and string.”

“Are you still
drunk?”

“A little bit.”
He glanced back at the door. “Only a little bit.”

“Good. I’d hate
to take advantage of you.” I reached out for him and he leaned
away. “Tease,” I muttered.

“I meant what I
said about not…consummating anything. But I figured that there’s
other stuff we could do.” His eyes were wide and playful in the
darkness, and my skin began to prickle with familiar heat.

“You’ve gone
from no touching to just no screwing in just over a week. What
makes you think I can’t push you further?”

He brushed the
hair from his face. “Try me.”

Oh.

“What did you
have in mind?”

“Watching,” he
said softly. “I want to see your little show, Leila.”

“It’s not much
fun with just me.”

“I’ll join in.”
He eased back against the foot of the bed, raising his knees. “I’ll
be right down here.” Breath caught in my throat as he rested his
hand over his cock, eyeing me expectantly. It wasn’t fair–I just
wanted to touch him.

He grabbed a
fistful of the sheet and drew it down, exposing flesh and modesty.
I felt strangely vulnerable being naked with him that night–I don’t
know why. All that need and such limited means to sate it with.

“Take those
shorts off,” I said.

He complied,
slipping them down his muscled legs. Hard already, the smooth head
of his cock sat neatly against his belly. He took it roughly in his
hand and nodded.

“I want to see
you,” he said. “Show me where you’re wet, babe.”

The air rushed
in as my thighs spread, and when I glanced up, I found him
smiling.

“Spread a
little more,” he urged.

I sat up on the
pillows and did as he asked.

“Is that
comfortable?”

“Yes,” I
whispered. “You’re being awfully bossy, Matthew.”

“You
 
like
 
it.”

“I do.” My
fingers sat on the tender skin between. “Do you like this,
here?”

“Very much.” A
sharp breath as he squeezed his cock. “I remember how good you
tasted there, too.”

I let my
fingers walk up to my slit, toying with the wetness there.

“I wish you’d
do it again.”

“Is that what
you like?”

I rolled my
inner lips as if they were being sucked. “I like all sorts of
things.”

“Huh.” Now he
was too busy watching to bother touching himself. “I think you
should tell me about them.”

“I can’t
concentrate that hard right now.” I brushed my clit for the first
time and arched my back with a little sigh. “How can you…”

“I’m suddenly
very focused.” He grinned, creeping across on his hands and knees.
Then he sat on his side and peered between my thighs. “Very alert
indeed.”

He was so close
to me now, his skin grazing mine every few seconds. I could feel
his breath as he exhaled hotly over my shoulder, could almost hear
the thud of his heartbeat deep in his chest. When he dropped his
mouth and trailed a soft mess of kisses against my throat, I
melted, crying out…it was too much.

“Shhh,” he
murmured, his warm hands wandering. “We’re not alone here.”

“I’m
sorry.”

“God, I love
watching you.” He cupped my breasts and made firm circles over my
nipples. “Don’t stop.”

“I…I
won’t.”

Fingers were
sticky, now, and I got slowly drunk on the sound of his voice, so
thick in my ear.

“When was the
first time you did this?” he asked.

“I read about
it in a Judy Blume novel.”

“Where were
you?”

“In a hotel
room, on holiday. My parents were down in the bar.”

He leaned
forward to watch me as I slowed.

“What did it
feel like the first time you came?”

I bit my lip,
waiting for a particularly sharp wave of pleasure to subside before
I spoke. “Very slow…achy.”

“Mmm. I know
what that’s like.”

I could feel
his cock against my thigh. It twitched every time I spoke.

“Do you touch
yourself inside?” he breathed.

I opened my eyes, wanting to see his face as I spread my
pussy for him, showing him how open and ripe it looked. That little
dip in his brow as he followed…
oh
.

“I bet you have
toys,” he said softly.

“I do…but I
like fingers better.”

“Yeah?”

“Fingers are
better for finding the right spot.”