Dirty Seduction

JULIAN

I looked at my princess as she settled down to read, pushing her glasses up her nose as she got comfortable. I was feeling nervous, heart racing a little, my soul well and truly exposed in the words onscreen.

I’d been writing in the background for weeks, showing Rosie selected chapters the filthy ones but the majority were not. Especially not chapter one. The Girl Downstairs

I’d bared it all.

The way my angel first appeared at my door, with the frantic rapping as she called for help. Her panicked breaths, the pleading in her beautiful eyes. The way I saw her beautiful, caring soul in that moment, and the way she always wore her heart on her sleeve. The way from that very moment I’d have followed her into hell to keep her safe from evil.

I’d written about her loyal protectiveness as she took her mother’s hands on the sofa, desperate to ease her pain. The way she’d been so grateful for my help as she’d wrapped her arms around my waist with a deluge of thanks that didn’t need to be said.

I’d described her in crystal clarity. From the sweet bobbing of her ponytail as she walked, to the cuteness of her dimples when she smiled. Her sweet addictive laugh, and the way she covered her mouth so adoringly when she got consumed by the giggles.

The perfect pitch of her voice, and the tender whispers of thanks she gave far, far too often.

She never needed to thank me. I’d give her everything I had to give, just for one little sparkle in her light blue eyes.

Chapter one was an outpouring of how Rosie had reached into my soul and brought me back to life, starting right from the moment she’d asked for my help. How I’d seen straight into her soul in return.

My first glimpse.

The glimpse that had changed my world and picked it up from the dregs of nothing.

I lit up a cigarette at the window, but Rosie didn’t look over at me, too transfixed as she scrolled. Her cheeks were blooming pink, and I could see the tears welling up.

“You’ve turned me into quite a heroine,” she said, but I shook my head, flicking ash out the window.

“No, I haven’t. No words could ever do you justice. This is purely an effort to capture your spirit on the pages.”

She giggled. “My sneakers aren’t cute when they squeak on the corridor floor, Julian.”

I laughed back. “Oh, they are. It’s the way you twist your feet just a little when you walk. It’s always the left one.”

“And my coconut hair shampoo didn’t smell that great. It was a crappy one from the bargain store.”

“It suited your hair. Delicate.”

Her eyes met mine, and they were so alive it made my breath hitch.

“My hair doesn’t look so great when I’ve been tossing and turning in bed though, does it? You hadn’t seen it at this point. I guess it comes in a later chapter.”

“It always fans up, actually. Very cute. If I’m lucky, I get to see it like a mousy brown halo when you’re sleeping.”

She laughed. “A bloody halo? Stop it. You’re bigging me up.” “I’m not,” I said. “Believe me. The book captures nothing but truth.”

“You’ve written this as a book? An actual book?” Her eyes widened.

“Indeed, yes, but I can’t take all the credit for it. It’s been edited by one of my previous students. He was very impressed, which was lovely to hear. I half expected him to write it off as a poor effort and shelve it for my personal gratification.”

“I’m glad you only half expected it, or you’d never have sent it.”

“Yes, and you gave me the positive half of that expectation. It was all down to you.”

She kept on reading, and I kept on watching. I could tell which parts she was reaching, purely by her expressions. I’d come to know them well enough. I saw her tears welling, and her dimpled smile, and the way she put her hand on her heart when something took her aback. Pink cheeks, and her dainty laugh, and the way she’d look up at the ceiling, just for a second while she pondered things.

I just hoped I’d captured it all nearly so well on the pages. If so much as a fraction of the adoration I felt for my angel had made it through into words, it would be a masterpiece.

My editor had certainly sung some praises.

I got her a coffee while she was still reading, and she thanked me, sipping without taking a break. I knew some of the dirty parts must be approaching soon, and sure enough, she grinned like a dirty little minx when she recognised scene number one.

“I know this bit.”

“Yes. You know plenty of them.”

Her grin disappeared soon after, and again I knew which point she was up to. She was reading about the deep depths of my protective rage, and my willingness to slam the knife into Scottie’s ribcage as I threatened his life.

I was sitting on the chesterfield at this point as she looked over at me. I expected questions on whether it was really like that, but she didn’t have them. She didn’t need to ask. She already knew. Just as I knew what she would say in return, as always.

“Thank you.” She didn’t let me say you’re welcome before she continued talking. “Honestly, Julian, I was so scared. I really thought he was going to hurt us, both me and Mum. You saved us, and I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you. Not any of this.”

“Touche, Rosie. Touche. I’m as grateful as you are.”

She wiped away a happy tear. “You could never be as grateful as I am. You saved my life.”

“Again, touche, sweetheart. Touche.”

I made us dinner while she kept reading. She ate carbonara at the dining table, not letting the manuscript out of her sight for even a moment, and I adored that, seeing how she was sucked into our story.

It was late into the evening when she reached the end. Her face was blotchy from crying, and she leant back in her seat as the finale hit home, laughing like an angel with misty glasses.

She had one word.

“Wow.”

“Come here,” I said, holding out my arms, and she was straight on over, a delicate flower as I held her.

“It’s amazing,” she said. “You may have bigged me up like I’m the greatest girl who ever existed, but that doesn’t matter. It’s an amazing story.

Amazing.”

“I have an excellent editor to thank for that.”

She pulled away enough to look me right in the eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s great, and I’m sure he’s polished it like a dream, but that doesn’t make any difference. I know your voice. I know the way you sound, and the way you say it, and that over there on the screen, is you. You’re the one who’s talking.”

“That’s because he’s a very good editor. He keeps my voice intact, while getting his polish out. He used a lot of polish, believe me.”

“Say whatever you like.” She sighed so sweetly, and ran her fingers through my hair, climbing up into a straddle. “So, are you going to publish it?”

“Do you think I should?”

She rolled her eyes. “I know you should.”

“And what about the filthy scenes? How would you feel about having them out there?”

“I wouldn’t give a shit.” She laughed. Then stopped. “Unless my mum read it.”

Interesting.

She brushed her lips against mine for a gentle kiss before she spoke again. I had to resist the urge to twist her ponytail in my hand and strip her naked on the spot, claiming her like I had in the story.

“You know what?” she asked. “Maybe Lola could make a cover for you. Honestly, she could! You know how good she is. You’ve seen it. She could be amazing, and she wouldn’t mind, for sure. She’d love it.”

“Hmm. Quite.”

I shifted her from me enough to get up from my seat, taking her hand for her to join me, and my smirk must have spoken volumes.

“What?” she said as I led her back to the dining table. She was wide-eyed before I’d even called up the file. “You’ve already done it, haven’t you?

You asked her!”

“And she delivered. Better than I could have ever hoped for.”

Rosie was open mouthed when I called up the image. It was beautiful. The dainty legs of a girl with a rose in her hand, so vulnerable, and so pure… yet with a tone. A hint of the story inside. A picture can paint a thousand words, so they say.

“Fuck,” she said. “That’s just fantastic. The whole thing is just insane. It’s INSANE. You have to publish this, Julian. For real, you have to publish this.”

“You’d like that?”

“I’d love it! The whole world can read about how much of an asshole someone like Scottie can be then, too. Just a shame a lot of them won’t find a saviour waiting for them in an apartment upstairs.”

“I’ll think about it,” I told her, my nerves still slightly on edge, but I was swaying towards the goal of making the book available to the public and I could feel it. The names would be switched out in a different draft, of course. Locations moved. No way of tracing the tale back to its real origin. But first, I needed someone else’s agreement. I’d need them to feel it, too…

It was another prayer I’d been holding tight for weeks. A prayer that would soon be answered, one way or the other.

We fucked almost all night long. Rosie was insatiable as the emotions flowed as well as the filth. She begged and whimpered just the way I’d captured in the novel, wanting more, more, more as I turned her into an angelic little slut before my eyes. We enacted scenes, flowing one into the other. From the sofa, to the shower, to the bedroom. Ropes, and marker pens, and the pulling of beads from her asshole so slowly that it drove her wild. I came inside her sweet cunt three times over, filling her up through the night. I licked her clean, and she finger-fucked herself, pushing it deeper and deeper.

And then together, in the aftermath, cleaned up and ready for bed, we watched the dawn beginning to bloom through the bedroom window, curtains open.

“I’m going to be absolutely knackered at college today.” She laughed. “And you just wait until I see Lola. I can’t believe she managed to keep such a big secret.”

“She was under a serious pinky promise. Believe me. She’s been desperate to see your reaction. Give her a huge hug from me when she does.”

“I will do, don’t worry about that. She’s made me look like a dream.”Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

“Because you are, sweetheart.”

The question now was whether the world would get to see it, but only time would tell. Time and the sense of morality I thought I’d cast aside into the trash, beyond all redemption, but no. It seemed I still had some left.

The publishing of this novel would also come down to a woman called Beverly.

I was feeling the nerves already, but tried not to show it, grinning proudly at Rosie when she walked into the kitchen, dressed for college.

“It’s gonna be warm today. Think I can get away with this look?”

Her shirt was completely undone. The word SLUT scrawled across her stomach.

“This is why I love you so much,” I said, shaking my head at her.

“Gonna spank me for being naughty?” She put her hands on her hips, just as soon as she’d pushed her glasses up her nose.

I hugged my angel instead. And then I buttoned up her shirt.

“Thanks,” she said and kissed me.

I doubted Rosie would have forced herself into college if she didn’t have exams looming, just mere days away. And of course, she was excited to see Lola.