Vinny hissed, squeezing the girl’s throat even harder. He got off on inflicting pain and terror; had done since the day he beat a lad senseless in the school playground at the tender age of eight.
Vinny shut his eyes and thought of how Yvonne Summers used to look, upping the speed of his thrusts as he did so. When his orgasm arrived, it was a belter. But as soon as it was over, Vinny thought of his daughter, leapt off the bed and got dressed. ‘I’ll wait for you outside. It’s stuffy in here,’ he told Ahmed.
When Ahmed emerged minutes later, he asked Vinny why he had left so swiftly.
Not wanting to sound like a numpty by admitting that having a daughter had put him off whores, Vinny shrugged. ‘I was just hot. Come on, I need a drink.’
The two of them stepped into a nearby pub and found a quiet spot in the corner. Ahmed had known from the way Vinny had been avoiding his phone calls the last couple of days that he wasn’t going to part with the dosh, so Plan B was already well under way.
‘So, what happens now? Are you still going to go ahead with the deal?’ Vinny asked anxiously.
‘No. We are partners and in this together, which is why I have already spoken to another supplier. I think we might be able to set up a deal with them, but they have insisted on meeting you also. They are in London at the moment and have suggested we meet tomorrow evening.’
‘That’s fine by me. Thanks for being so understanding about the other deal, pal.’
Inwardly seething, as he had been desperate to rip Vinny off for over a million, Ahmed forced a smile. ‘No need to thank me. That’s what friends are for.’
In a far more upmarket part of London, Michael Butler was feeling like some stupid lovesick schoolboy as he stepped into the posh lift. Unlike the lifts in his neck of the woods, this one didn’t stink of sick and piss, and the walls weren’t covered in graffiti. In fact this one was so clean you could eat your dinner off the floor.
When the lift stopped, Michael could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He had tried his hardest not to ring her, he really had. But here he was in Chelsea, like a lamb being led to the slaughter.
Bella opened the door in a red see-through negligee. Being the red-blooded male that he was, Michael immediately felt his penis jump to attention.
‘Do come in, Michael. Would you like a glass of wine?’ Bella asked.
Michael nodded and followed her into the kitchen. Her voice was just as sexy as the rest of her. Husky, with an Italian lilt to it.
Making sure she was showing plenty of cleavage, Bella sat at the table opposite him. ‘So, what can I do for you? You said on the phone you had something to tell me.’
‘I do, but now I feel like an idiot saying it.’
‘Don’t be shy, Michael. You weren’t shy on the evening we met,’ Bella said with a smirk.
Michael stared at her. Her lipstick matched her negligee and all he could think of was fucking her senseless. ‘OK, I’ll be honest. I can’t stop thinking about you. You are on my mind every minute of every day.’
Bella took a sip of her wine. She was secretly thrilled by Michael’s confession, but didn’t want to show it. ‘You took your time getting in touch with me.’
‘I know and I’m sorry. I was just trying to fight it, I suppose.’
Bella stood up, undid her negligee and let it fall to the floor. ‘I think we need to make up for lost time then, don’t you?’
Michael did not need asking twice. He positioned Bella against the kitchen table and entered her like a rat up a drainpipe.
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