Page 17 of Good Girl
She won’t look at me now though and just shakes her head.
‘What happened to you to make you doubt how fuckingsexyyou are?’ I ask roughly.
‘I’m sure you don’t have any experience of being made a fool of, but it strips you of your confidence,’ she says quietly.
‘Who made a fool of you?’
There’s a small pause before she answers. ‘My first boyfriend, when I was sixteen.’
She lets out a long-suffering sigh.
‘I’d had men trying to get close to me before I met him—because of my family name and the attention it brings—but I genuinely thought Malcolm liked me forme. He was twenty-three and seemed so mature and cultured. He was also really possessive and attentive, telling me all the time how beautiful he thought I was. And even though I know I’m no real beauty I lapped it up. I really needed to believe it at that point in my life.
‘Truthfully, I’d taken my mother’s death really hard and he seemed so understanding about how hollow and lost I felt. Like he understood me and had my back. That he cared. He seemed so sincere. And I...believed at that point I was in love with him. I planned on losing my virginity to him. I thought what we had was real, you see, and I wanted to trust him with it, to prove to him how much I cared about him too. But then I found out from a friend that he was only dating me because I’m a Darlington-Hume.’
She pulls a disgusted face. ‘She overheard him talking about the sacrifice he was making being with the runt of the litter instead of someone “more in his league”, like one of my sisters. He told his friends he was “taking one for the team” by pretending to be in love with me so he could reap all the privileges that come with my family name—to benefit both himself and them, if they were nice to him. It was all a power trip. He thought being with me would open all sorts of doors for him. Once I started asking around about him, it turned out that pretty much everyone knew he was like this, except for gullible old me.’ She shakes her head. ‘I was utterly heartbroken and it put me off dating for a long time.’
‘What a prick!’ I say roughly, furious on her behalf. I know exactly the type of guy she’s describing—someone who’s happy to wreck a woman’s self-esteem just to get ahead.
I try not to think about the fact I’m also using her for her name right now. It’s not as if we’re in a relationship and I’m pretending to be something I’m not—or to care about her more than I do. This is an entirely different scenario. No one’s going to get hurt here.
I watch her playing with the cord of the dressing gown as she continues to speak. ‘I’ve never had a lot of confidence in my looks. Somehow I ended up with the trifecta of bad luck in that department in my teens. After my mother died I started comfort eating and put on a lot of weight. Then my face broke out in acne. Basically, I was an overweight, spotty redhead and I got bullied a lot at school by some of the other girls. And then, later, by the press. Journalists seemed to love drawing unfavourable comparisons between my sisters and I. You’ve met them, right? They’re beautiful—knockout beautiful—and so confident with it. I’m just not like that, no matter how hard I try to be.’
‘Well, as I said, I think you’re a very attractive woman and I’d very much like to get to know your incredible body better,’ I murmur, pushing her fringe out of her eyes and cupping her face, forcing her to look into my eyes so she can see how serious I am. That it’s not just a line I’m reeling out. Because it’s really not. I genuinely find her extremely fucking tempting. She’s not like the women I usually date, sure, but I like that she’s different.
She’s trembling hard now, but I can tell from her expression that it’s with anticipation rather than nerves. But, still, I want to be sure.
‘Is that okay with you, Juno?’ I murmur, my heart racing as I wait for her answer.
I want to touch her so badly now I feel knots of tension building in my muscles. I want to put my mouth on her soft, warm skin and prove to her just how amazing her body is.
‘Yes,’ she says softly. ‘That’s okay.’
Juno
He’s going to kiss me.
I can feel his intent as he strokes his thumb gently over my cheek, sending ripples of pure pleasure across my skin.
My lips tingle with expectation as I stare down at his mouth, wondering how it will feel against mine. His lips look firm, but so soft. I imagine he kisses well. Really well.
I’m nervous about him seeing me naked, but I know I have to get over it if I’m ever going to move past this sexual glitch I’m stuck on, so I push the worry to the back of my mind. He’ll take good care of me. I know he will. I trust him. The whole reason I wanted to come to Sandro, apart from the physical attraction I feel for him, is because I know I don’t have to worry about him only doing this to try and get something from me. He doesn’t need the benefit of my family name—he already has enough power and money through his own family connections.
But he doesn’t kiss me. Instead he gently parts the dressing gown I’m wearing, exposing my breasts to his gaze. His appreciation is clear in his eyes, which gives me the confidence to stop myself from covering right back up again and to let him do what he wants to me.
I watch him as he drops his head to kiss the swell of one of my breasts, running his tongue in soft sweeps just above my nipple, then tracing a gentle circle around the aureole. My breasts feel heavy and engorged and I drag in a sharp breath as he sucks down hard on my nipple, drawing it deep into his mouth, sending a wave of pure, electric sensation straight between my legs as if the two areas are connected.
‘Oh...whoa...that feels so good,’ I gasp.
He pauses for a moment and raises his dark head. ‘Yeah? You like that?’
‘Yes. Don’t stop!’ I plead.
He moves to the other breast, giving it the same treatment, making my head spin and my whole body flood with dopamine. The heavy, insistent throb in my core intensifies.
‘Do you feel it in your pussy?’ he mumbles against my skin.
I suck in a shocked breath at the intimacy of the question, then force myself to answer. ‘Yes.’
