The Ex 2: In Which She Gets Stuck In An Ele-Elevator

It was huge.

Bigger than I'd ever seen.

At my wide eyes, Cat gave me a knowing look. “I call this one The Mammoth,” she said in mock-awe. “Buy it, love. You won't be disappointed.”

It was a shocking-pink and displayed like a trophy. Actually, I thought, glancing around the single room that made up The Gift of Touch, they're all displayed like trophies.

Cat blinked at me. “Well?”

She looked at home among the gaudy s.e.x toys, like a mammal in its natural habitat. Her auburn hair was cropped short, emphasising the high crests of her cheekbones and the jut of her pointy chin. It was freezing outside yet she appeared to be none the wiser in an electric-yellow mini and black strappy sandals. If anyone could recommend a s.e.x toy, it was the s.e.xy Cat Baker.

Fixing her azure eyes on me, she said conspiratorially, “I deal with a lot of first-timers who don't understand that pleasuring oneself is an activity best taken advantage of. Díldos and vibrators were made to be enjoyed, not feared. Do you understand what I'm saying?”

“I'm not afraid of the d.a.m.n thing,” I muttered defiantly, glancing at the magazine display stand by the door. I'd never seen so many copies of Hustler since I'd stumbled into my pervy cousin, Edward's bedroom when we were teens. “I've just never used one, is all.”

“Do you mastúrbate?”

“What?”

“Do you at least use your hand?” she amended with a grin, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

Every single night, I mentally admitted.

“I suppose so,” I said to her, shrugging even when I felt like covering my face and hiding in the nearest corner. “Doesn't everyone...use their hand?”

Cat shook her head. “Nope. Some of us have a Mammoth.”

I s.n.a.t.c.hed the box from the shelf. “Ring this up, then.”

Despite her brazen att.i.tude, she put the toy into a discreet brown paper bag before handing it over. To the outside world – especially the old busybodies of Parishville who would certainly have a field day with such knowledge – it would look like an everyday shopping bag. Sliding my shades on, I practically sprinted outside and collided head-on into a boulder of a person. The bag split at the bottom and the s.e.x toy unceremoniously fell to the ground.

“The Gift of Touch?”

The stars are conniving against me.

Konstantin stooped low, s.n.a.t.c.hing the box up before handing it to me, a slow, teasing smile spreading across his face. “Please tell me that this is a gift for one of your bored, s.e.xually frustrated friends. This thing looks like it could do some real damage.”

I reddened. “Have you moved into town or something?” Two sightings of Konstantin in less than a month were too much for me. My s.e.x-starved brain wasn't going to last.

I mean, I couldn't ignore how good he looked. No one in Parishville wore suits or any other kind of formal wear, even the businessmen. Konstantin's black waistcoat and flamboyant pegreen silk s.h.i.+rt were utterly out of place against the backdrop of our bland town. I didn't want to a.n.a.lyse how the bright flash of colour accentuated his olive skin. Or how much I wanted to run my hands over the s.h.i.+mmering fabric and…

“I'm thinking about acquiring the coal factory over by the lake. You know the one?”
I sniffed, heart pounding. Business. He was here on business. “Adding it to your collection of pollutants?”

“We still don't see eye to eye about things like this. Some things never change.” His tone was light but his face was stone.

“I'd love to stay and argue about how things don't change, but Colin's expecting me for lunch,” I said blithely, noticing for the first time how tan he was. Clearly, he'd been somewhere hot. Probably his ever-sunny wh.o.r.ehouse in France, I thought furiously.

“But Hanlon's in cla.s.s, isn't he?”

Colin taught Year Twelve history at the local high school. It was his pa.s.sion. And Konstantin was right; he was still in cla.s.s.

“How do you know?”

“It's a small town, agapi mou.”

“Stop calling me that.” Years before, just hearing him say h.e.l.lo in his language made me come in my pants but hearing him call me his love? Never failed to make me spread my legs and beg him to put his baby inside me. I s.h.i.+vered at the memory, moving to get past him.

His hand shot out to tug me to him. “Hanlon clearly isn't satisfying you, Frankie,” he growled into my ear, his breath tickling my lobe. “If you ever feel the urge to touch yourself, don't use this d.a.m.ned toy.Call me.” He released me and stood back, probably in antic.i.p.ation of an explosion from me.

Instead, I hurried away to my car, heart running several laps in my chest.

I was already feeling the urge.

***

“Dear, do you have any Enid Blyton or Roald Dahl?” asked old Mrs. Brown over the counter. She was a close-to-deaf seventy-year-old who came round and spent a few pounds on children's cla.s.sics. The highlight of her week was visiting my store for her grandchildren.

“Of course,” I grinned, walking around the counter and leading her to the shelf of ancient, dusty books towards the back. “How are Daisy and Luke doing these days?”

She let out a very unladylike snort. “I'm trying to get those grandchildren of mine interested in reading. Since their father made the poor decision to get them one of those Xbox machines, books have become a thing of the past in that house. In my day, books and toys were all we had. Nowadays, children kill their brain cells while they kill each other in their silly TV games.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” I said, stifling a laugh. “If anything can turn them away from technology, it's The Big Friendly Giant.” I gingerly picked up the tattered novel and handed it to her.

Mrs. Brown patted my arm. “You should get married and have your own kids, Francesca. You'll make a lovely mum.”

My skin p.r.i.c.kled. “Marriage isn't for me.”

“But surely Colin's interested in marrying you? A fine young man like that, it's a wonder no one's scooped him up.”

I shrugged. “Not that I know of,” I lied. “Is that all? Or would you like something else?”

“I think this is it. Thank you, dear.”

After she left, I sat at the till and thought about my future. The store was empty, save for Rodney Pickings, a sixteen-year-old who sat cross-legged on the carpet and read his fill of Archie comics all afternoon after school. I never had the heart to tell him to buy something or f.u.c.k off.

If I were being absolutely honest with myself, I did want kids. Once upon a time, I thought I'd have my wish. My mother had had me when she was twenty-four. I was exactly a year older than she'd been then, so obviously it wasn't too late. However, the thought of making a baby with Colin made me physically sick. There was no doubt he'd make a good father, I supposed, but he wouldn't be a good father to my kids.
Then what are you doing with him?

Tapping my fingertips on the counter, I worried my bottom lip with my teeth. Colin was safe. He'd never hurt me. Ever. And if he did, he'd gouge his own eyeb.a.l.l.s out and drink rat poison. That was the deal-maker: Colin Hanlon was harmless.

Unlike Konstantin Kouriakis, I thought flatly.

For all his charm and s.e.x appeal, he was a cold-hearted b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Even before I'd left him, he'd started to withdraw from me emotionally and physically, finally showing his true colours. It was a miracle he'd allowed me to leave him, if not for the sake of his ma.s.sive ego.

Minutes pa.s.sed before I realised that I my daydreaming had gone on a different tangent and I was imagining Konstantin taking me in my bookstore with poor Rodney as a witness. Mortified, I discovered that my toes were curling in my pumps and my knickers were wet – wet thinking about that b.a.s.t.a.r.d. But there was no way I was going to come back down without getting off.

“Rodney, love?” I called, making him jump.

He looked up at me as if for the first time ever, blinking from behind his spectacles. “Yes?”

“Will you call me if someone comes in?” I asked, getting to my feet. “I'll be in the back.”

“Yeah. Sure.” His attention returned to his comic and I grabbed my handbag and marched to the toilet at the back.

It was a small, confined s.p.a.ce – just a toilet and a sink. Since I was the only person who used it, it was pristine and reeked of Dettol. I couldn't stand the smell of p.i.s.s, which would've been more likely if I'd been sharing with a bunch of guys.

Taking a deep breath, I stared into the mirror. My face was flushed, as if I'd been running a marathon.

Yes, the marathon of near-celibacy.

Before I could change my mind, I dug into my bag and whipped out The Mammoth. I'd used it only twice since I'd bought it, and both times, it hadn't been Colin I'd been thinking about. Guilt had been consuming me like a disease the first time I'd pleasured myself to the memory of Konstantin's c.0.c.k inside me. Wasn't I supposed to be imagining my boyfriend touching me? The truth of the matter was that Colin had the touch of an overeager octopus – hardly tantalising – and despite everything, it was my ex-husband that haunted my fantasies.

I closed the lid of the toilet and sat down, leaning back and bringing my legs up. Cold air seared the inside of my thighs. Sliding my knickers down, I closed my eyes and slowly rubbed the tip of the toy along my clít. The sensation was priceless. For several minutes, I enjoyed that before I got frustrated and slowly eased the head inside me. Still not as good as Konstantin. The unwarranted thought popped into my head and brought a flurry of images of him. If I cleared my head enough, I could almost pretend that it was him fúcking me and not an inanimate object. If I built up just the right rhythm, I could pretend that it was his hard, fast thrusts pus.h.i.+ng me closer to orga$m. My pússy clenched around the toy…clenching, unclenching… My harsh breath filled the air, sweat trickling down my back. Before I knew it, I was bucking wildly, thrusting the díldo into me even deeper and riding it like there was no tomorrow. Because there wasn't, was there? This would be the last time I'd think of Konstantin, of him filling me, of him coming inside me, of him...

“Oh bunny rabbits on c.o.ke, yessssss!”
I came in an instant, gasping for air yet still feeling completely, absolutely unfulfilled.

A knock at the door made me jump out my skin.

“Is everything all right, Frankie?”

No.

“Fúck off,” I hissed, shakily getting to my feet.

Konstantin knocked again. “The boy you left up front has left. I'll stick around for a bit. You don't have to thank me.”

Dammit Rodney, I thought. Now there was no one to protect me from the Greek demon.

Cleaning myself up and attempting to look even a little presentable took a lot more time than I'd bargained. When I finally left the toilet, I found that Konstantin was casually leaning against the counter, his eyes intent on a Time magazine.

“What do you want?” I muttered, and he looked up, regarding me from head to toe.

His eyes danced as he set the magazine down on the counter. “What don't I want.”

I blushed at the cheesy line. “I'm closing up, so if you don't mind…”

“Business seems to be booming.” Konstantin glanced around, approaching me. The two of us were alone in my bookstore at three in the afternoon. Business sure as h.e.l.l wasn't booming.

“Shut up.” Childish, I knew. “I get by, not that it's any of your business.”

“You could always come back to me,” he said quietly, reaching out to cup my chin between two fingers.

Electricity shot right through me. “You need to tell me what drugs you're on because if you think I'll come back to you, you must be on something.”

He chuckled, withdrawing his hand. “Your s.p.u.n.k is endearing. I've missed it.”

“Don't patronise me.”

“I'm simply stating facts here.”

Ignoring the comment, I returned to the back of the counter. The thought of getting back to work heavily put me off. Slinging my bag over one shoulder, I shot him a dark look. “Shop's closed.”

“I'd like to buy this.” He pushed the magazine towards me and I squinted at him in confusion. “Trump is a very interesting man,” he said, referring to the mogul on the cover, “once you ignore the ego. An ego is a man's downfall, Frankie.”

“Talk about the pot calling the kettle black,” I said under my breath. “What are you doing?”

He'd added a pile of useless gardening magazines onto his Time. “Purchasing a few things. What does it look like?”

I picked one up. “Farmer's Weekly? Really?”

“Just ring them up, Frankie.”

I did, biting back a retort. When he handed me a wad of money that more than covered the grand total, I thought I'd explode.

“Do you think this is a joke?” I spat, flinging it back at him. “You think because you're practically wearing money, you can throw a couple of grand at me and think I'll be grateful? I don't want your fúcking charity, you cúnt!”

His poker face was unsettling. “You have no idea what I want to do to you right now.”

I swallowed, my anger dissipating as quickly as it came. “Here's your change.” I took a twenty and handed him his money.

“Thank you.”
Shoving his purchases into a plastic bag, I pa.s.sed it to him and switched my computer off. He pretended to be extremely interested in a rack of Danielle Steel novels while I busied myself getting ready to go.

Once outside, he walked me to my car, waiting for me to get in.

“Don't bother. I'm only locking it up,” I told him, awkwardly doing so.

“Oh, is lover boy picking you up?” Contempt laced his voice.

I glared at him. “No, I'm walking. I don't have far to go.” My sentence was punctuated by the first spatters of raindrops against the roof of my car.

Just my b.l.o.o.d.y luck.

“Not anymore,” Konstantin informed me, taking me by the elbow and marching me to his Aston Martin parked just a few cars in front of me. “I'll give you a ride. To the manor, correct?”

I was going to head home, especially because another dull evening with Colin was going to do my head in, but I suddenly worried I'd do something stupid if I did go home. Like invite him in. Beg him to do what he'd promised. Pretend the last two years hadn't happened.

“No, actually,” I forced myself to say. “I'm surprising Colin with a little romantic dinner.”

Konstantin's jaw clenched as he opened the pa.s.senger door for me, waiting for me to slide in before slamming it shut behind me. I settled into the plush leather seat, nervously waiting for him to join me. It was such a bad idea to be in a confined s.p.a.ce with him but I found that my body was yearning for it and when he eventually folded his big body inside the car and closed the door, sticking the key into the ignition and turning on the heater, I felt the urge to lick his p.r.i.c.kly square jaw.

s.e.xual frustration has turned you into a strange harlot, Frankie.

“I miss your cooking.”

My head snapped to look at him. “What?”

“I know you heard me, agapi mou.”

I looked away, startled by how random he was being. “You know how to cook. Besides, I'm sure you have plenty of women lining up to use your state-of-the-art kitchen appliances.”

The car jerked to life and I felt Konstantin withdraw from me, my words obviously hitting home. He wasn't the only one. Just thinking of other women poring over his grandmother's old cookbooks to make him traditional Greek dinners made me quiver with jealousy. I was confused, my head all over the place, and I didn't know what either of us wanted.

The car ride elapsed in silence, the rain doing all the talking. I nearly sighed with relief when we finally drew up into the parking lot of Colin's apartment block and I was free to leave. Konstantin surprised me by getting out as well, following me right into the building.

“Where do you think you're going?” I sighed in frustration, pressing the elevator b.u.t.ton. I slammed my finger against it more times than it warranted. Konstantin could probably sense my nervousness.

“I'm seeing you to the door. Hanlon would do the same, wouldn't he?”

“Don't be ridiculous. You don't have to see me anywhere.” The elevator doors opened and we stepped inside. I fought the urge to stamp my foot in frustration. “Kon, I'm being serious.”

“As am I,” he said softly, his eyes raking over me.

Why did he have to look so utterly appealing, his hair clinging to his face like that? Didn't he know how much I wanted to run my hands through it and tug it and own it?

Quickly, I looked away, before my desire could be recognised in my eyes. Like a rat in a cage with a snake, I kept myself as far away as I could from Konstantin. Rats had it easier, though.
“Frankie,” Konstantin began, his voice husky, “I'm not going to attack you.”

“Why are you here? After two years, Kon, why are you here?”

“I told you. There is a mine I would like to acquire,” was his soft response.

“Then acquire it. But leave me alone,” I murmured, my voice going wobbly. “I've only just started to try to get over you and…and you…”

“You will never get over me, Francesca Vega,” he snarled, closing the s.p.a.ce between us in one stride, pus.h.i.+ng me against one wall and pressing his mouth against mine.

My response was instantaneous. Shrugging my handbag off my shoulder, I looped my arms around his neck, returning the ferocity of his kiss, yielding my body to him. Konstantin reached out and blindly pressed the emergency stop b.u.t.ton and I pulled at his suit jacket, wrenching it off his broad shoulders.

“G.o.d, Frankie,” he groaned, unb.u.t.toning his s.h.i.+rt, damp from the rain, and allowing me to run my hands over his bare skin. Gooseb.u.mps were immediate as I traced the harsh planes of his chest, the bulging sinews of muscle.

Konstantin's hands ripped off my cardigan, the tiny b.u.t.tons popping onto the ground. My blouse was next to go, shortly followed by my bra. My nipples were standing erect, whether from the cold or from Konstantin's scrutiny, I didn't know. I didn't care.

“Such beautiful t.i.ts,” Kon murmured. “I wonder, can you still come from me sucking your little brown nipples? Let's find out.” Lowering his head, he slowly drew one hardened point into his mouth.

“Kon,” I breathed, sinking my fingers into his glossy black hair. A hiss of pleasure left my lips when he turned his attention to my other breast, flicking his tongue over my nipple, fondling the other with deft fingers. My b.r.e.a.s.t.s were swollen with need, the need I'd been foolishly denying myself like a nun.

“Now,” I begged, clenching my thighs together, my pússy throbbing so hard it hurt. “Please. Now.”

Konstantin's hands pushed my skirt up, the elastic waist now riding under my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. With practiced hands, he simultaneously pulled my underwear down and slid two fingers inside me, instantly working my weeping opening. I could hear the sound of my blood rus.h.i.+ng to my head. And his fingers moving in and out of me, fúcking me fast. And my heartbeat. I could hear that very loudly.

I didn't want to come so fast. Surprise cloaked Konstantin's face when I pushed his hand , shoving him against the opposite wall. His breathing was ragged as I fell to my knees and unbuckled his belt, unzipping his fly.

“Will that little mouth of yours be able to take all of me?” he growled, staring down at me with a mix of amus.e.m.e.nt and hunger on his face.

“We'll just have to see, won't we, Kon?”

I eased his erection out his boxers, marvelling at how hard he was and knowing that I did that to him. I made the great, big Konstantin Kouriakis a rock in his silk boxers. Slowly, I grasped the thick length and licked the head, tasting the first drops of his c.u.m. Konstantin's sharp intake of breath told me that this was going to be good. He yanked my hair, pulling me closer and I took even more of him into my mouth, sc.r.a.ping the veined shaft with my teeth. When I could finally feel him at the back of my throat, I clamped down around him, sliding him in and out, in and out, all the while exciting myself. It had been so long since I'd felt this level of arousal and the antic.i.p.ation was slaughtering me, flooding my pússy. Konstantin hissed out a curse and, when I thought he'd explode inside my mouth, he pulled out.

“Frankie, stand up,” he exhaled, already helping me to my feet. “You say one thing, then do another.” He pushed his face into mine, his eyes hazy with l.u.s.t. “You call me names and then you suck my c.0.c.k like your life depended on it. What. Do. You. Want?”

“I want you to come inside me,” I said softly, allowing him to push me back against the other side of the elevator car.

He pecked my neck, surprising me with the tenderness of the act. “Is there any other way?”

Then, hauling me into his arms and winding my legs around his waist, he bit out, “My hands are full. Put me inside you, Frankie.”

I was intoxicated by him, all my senses overwhelmed and filled with him. No matter what happened now, I would be responsible.

I reached between us and wrapped a hand around his díck, pressing him against my wet cúnt. At first, I teased myself – and him. Pressed the tip of his erection against my pulsing clít. Ran him along the slick folds of my slit. Torture.

We were breathing heavily together, our bodies rigid with tension.

“Enough, Frankie, or I will put you down and fúck you into apologising for teasing me,” warned Kon, his fingers biting into my thighs.

I whimpered at the image before easing his rigid length into me. We moaned together, my pússy stretching and dripping to accommodate his size. It had been so long; so very, very long.

“Fúck, you're tight,” Kon grunted, thrusting into me of his own accord. He caught my eye. “It's been a while, hasn't it?”

“Yes,” I hissed, clenching my legs even tighter around him. “I haven't really… Oh, G.o.d, Kon. Faster. Need…it…hard.”

He became frantic, ramming my back against the wall with each deep, searing plunge of his c.0.c.k. Every nerve-ending was on fire and when he called me every filthy name under the sun, I thought I'd combust.

“Coming,” I wailed, grasping at the wet ringlets of his hair and wanting to bury my nose in them.

Then wave after wave of pleasure rolled over me, was.h.i.+ng away any doubt that this was wrong, that I wasn't supposed to have him inside me. The heat of his own release scorched my inside…and I wanted more.

“Don't stop,” I whispered, desperate to feel the way he made me feel again. “Please. Don't stop.”

“I won't.” He kissed my mouth, his lips only just brus.h.i.+ng against mine. “I never want to stop.”

Konstantin was slow this time. Each thrust was measured, the intensity divine. My fingernails dug into his skin, the familiar muscles like a pillow to me. My next orgàsm was a backbreaking shock, setting off Konstantin's. He pressed his mouth into the crook of my shoulder, holding me through the aftershocks, keeping me upright.

Finally, he set me down.

“Come back to me,” he said after a long moment of silence had elapsed. He was zipping up.

“No.” I stared at his exposed chest, committing the sight to memory.

He pa.s.sed me my top. “I don't take no for an answer, Frankie.”

“You did, two years ago,” I whispered, and he had no response to that.

When I was fully dressed, sans ruined jumper, Konstantin pressed the emergency b.u.t.ton again and the elevator began to continue its flight up. It finally stopped at Colin's floor.

Dear G.o.d – Colin.

Before I could get out, Konstantin pulled me in for one last, pa.s.sionate kiss. It was happening all over again. I was weak. Weak, weak, weak…

“Have a good dinner,” he snarled once he released me.

I stepped out, breathing heavily and watching the doors close, shutting him inside and me out. There was absolutely no way I'd be able to get some sleep now. Like Eve, I'd taken a bite out of the forbidden fruit.

And so help me, I wanted more.