The Naughty

Naughty

It was gone 1 a.m.when her key sounded in the lock. I'd already decimated the beers in the fridge and switched over to Channel XXX, stroking my cock to a horny little threesome with three young blondes. I stuffed my dick out of sight before Aimee saw me, flicking through the channels to something innocuous.

The girl was trashed. She smacked her shoulder on the doorway as the teetered her way in, pirouetting gracelessly on the rebound and landing in a heap at my side on the sofa. I caught a glimpse of white lace panties under her skirt, and if she'd been sober she'd have seen how my hungry eyes lingered, my palm brushing the hard-on under my suit trousers.

It was only when she pushed the curls back from her face that I saw what a train wreck her makeup was. An unmistakable trail of ruined mascara smeared from her eyes, and her cheeks were blotched pink. Her lip quivered, despite her efforts to keep her composure.

"What's up, pussycat? Mikey not the big, hot stud you thought he was?" I tried to be cocky in my questioning, but it trailed off into nothing. Her dishevelled condition knocked me hard, right in the pit of my drunken stomach. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to fuck her, hold her, or go after that Mikey sonofabitch and find out what the fuck he'd done to her.

"Like you care," she snapped.

"Did he hurt you?"

She rolled her eyes, swatting away a tear in the process. "No, Mikey didn't hurt me. I hardly even saw him all night. Turns out Mikey has a girlfriend, the perfect Imogen Delaney no less. He works for her dad, and apparently that's the only reason he's with her – that's what he said. Like I give a fuck about him anyway."

"So why the tears?"

Her lip trembled again. "Do you actually give a shit? Do you?"

I turned in her direction, pulling up a knee to hide the remnants of my hard-on. "Yes. I give a shit. Tell me what the fuck's going on."

She edged closer, her knee coming to rest dangerously close to mine. "I thought they were my friends, but they hate me. Why do they hate me?"

"What happened?"

"The usual. They called me a slut, said I'm a piece of trashy shit, that guys only want me coz I'm an easy lay. Beth went all psycho on me, said I was eyeing up her boyfriend, but I wasn't. He's a loser and she already told me he can't keep it up. Why would I want to get on a useless sack of shit like that?"

"You're drunk, they were drunk. It'll blow over in the morning and you'll be laughing it off over messenger by lunch."

"You don't get it, do you?" she said. I pondered her question, and found that no, I didn't get it at all. "Everyonehates me!"

"That's bullshit. Of course your friends don't hate you."

"They do!" she cried. "This always happens to me. Even my own mother hates me. And you, you hate me too, don't pretend you don't."

I turned off the TV, and her ragged breath sounded so much louder, so much closer. I'd never seen her like this. Drunk, sure, drunk and cocky, sure; but never like this, not once in the six months I'd known her.

"Your mother doesn't hate you, she loves you."

She laughed a bitter laugh. "You're so full of shit, you know that? You know it as much as I do."

"Your mother is busy with work, and she gets preoccupied, that's all."

"And you?" she asked. "You hate me, don't you? Admit it. You can't stand me. I know you can't. Sometimes I don't even blame you, since I hate myself."

She looked so young sat there. Her eyes so big and sad, and so fucking pretty with her sweet little fingers curled in her hair.

"It's a bit rich to accuse me of hating you, don't you think? It's you who's gunning for me every time I step through the door."

"So, youdohate me."

I smiled. "You drive me fucking mental sometimes, Aimee, but no, I don't hate you."

The hairs on my arms stood on end, clocking the danger in the room before I did. Aimee shifted in her seat, raising the hem of her skirt just a fraction. I soaked in the milky white perfection of her thighs.Shit.

Her eyes met mine, and there it was again, thedirty girlglint.

"Do you love Mum? Did you ever? Was it really what you both claimed it was when you came back from vacation and declared undying love?"

"Imarriedyour mother, didn't I?"

She shrugged. "Like that means anything. I don't think she loves you. I don't think she ever did. You're just another one of her possessions left on the shelf now she's bored of you. You can join the club."

"Thanks for that." I feigned chest pain.

"I wouldn't worry about it. She doesn't love anyone, only herself." She paused, bitchiness easing off just a little. "Sorry. If you do love her, I mean. If you don't, it doesn't matter a shit."

"I'm not drunk enough for this," I sighed. "Not for a conversation about the reality of love in modern suburbia, and definitely not with you."

"You think I'm a silly little girl, that I'm just the spoiled little brat you see every day. You think that's all there is to me, don't you?"

"You make it really damn hard to see anything else, since that's all you ever show me."

"Maybe I don'twantanyone to see anything else. Maybe it's easier that way."

"Easier to be a cocky little brat than show a little common courtesy? I think that would be easier for anyone. You can take the easy route all you like, sweetheart, and I'll suck it up. I've got bigger things on my plate than whether you're being a bitch to me or not."

Her eyes pooled with fresh tears. "See, you really do hate me after all."

Fucking hell. I'd overstepped the mark like a prick, letting my cocky who-gives-a shit attitude speak for me.

My hand was on her knee before I'd even registered. Her skin was silky soft, warm to the touch.

"If I hated you, I wouldn't be here. You're the one who's stuck here with me, not the other way around."

"So, it's not about the house? You're not staying here for the swanky pad? Yeah, right. Like that's not your biggest concern."