Dirty Aristocrat

Stifling a desire to tell everyone to go home, I slipped out of the reception rooms filled with people and walked to his library. I paused for a moment before I opened the tall doors and

went in. Immediately I was engulfed by the familiar smell of the room. Before he became truly ill this room used to smell of the tobacco from his pipe. Now it just smelt of old leather

and that cream he used to use.

Inhaling deeply, I walked into the cold darkness. I felt as if the past lived in that darkness and I could simply walk into it. I journeyed deeper into the room and went up to his desk.

I let my fingers trail on the polished wood surface. I switched on the table lamp. It threw a pool of yellow light on the polished wood and I thought of Robert sitting here, his head

bowed, reading.

‘Oh, Robert,’ I breathed.

‘Hello, Mother,’ a voice drawled from the doorway.

My spine stiffened. I turned around slowly.

Dorian was standing at the doorway holding a glass of red wine. His handsome face was slightly flushed, his lips red, and his hair a little mussed. In the half-light he looked as

beautiful as one of those Greek statues, but from the way he held the glass, with it slightly tipped to one side, told me he was more than a little drunk.

‘I’m not your mother,’ I said coldly.

He took a sip of wine. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t hold that against you,’ he said slowly.

I hoped my face did not show the disgust I felt. It never failed to amaze me how little of Robert remained in his children.

‘What do you want, Dorian?’ My voice sounded harsh in the empty room.

He strolled towards me. Something about his unnaturally casual stance made me shudder. He stopped in front of me and the desire to take a step back was almost overpowering, but I held my

ground.

I was in my home. He was the intruder. What could he do to me? One scream and a whole host of people would come running. He was just trying to scare me, but there was nothing to fear. I

was only helpless when my nail polish was wet, and even then I could still pull a trigger if I had to and he was just a spoilt rich kid. I refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing

that he had succeeded in rattling me.

‘Do you know I’ve always wanted to fuck you?’ he said conversationally.

I stared at him steadily, my face wiped of all expression. Robert always said that the art of war was to never show your hand. Always take your enemy by surprise.

‘Well, I’ve never wanted to fuck you,’ I replied with elaborate politeness.

He took a long slow sip of his drink and regarded me quizzically over the rim of his glass. ‘Hmmm … how could he possibly have satisfied you?’ he wondered aloud.

I smiled coldly. ‘I loved him.’

Amusement flashed in his eyes. ‘Come on, the sex was shit though, wasn’t it?’

I smiled slowly. ‘Not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t remember ever complaining.’

‘If you think that kinky bastard’s flaccid dick was good …’

I laughed throatily. ‘Poor, spoilt Dorian. So many women at his command, but all the twisted fucker wants is to do his stepmother.’

His eyes glittered. ‘Pull your claws back in, Mother. There’s no need for them anymore. You worked hard and fast. One moment you were polishing his nails, the next you were polishing his

knob. You’ve won. Hands fucking down. You’ve got it all. No one can take it away from you now.’ A bitter smile shaped his mouth. He took a step closer. ‘You don’t even have to pretend

anymore. So come on, at least give yourself a little victory fuck. You know you’re gasping for it.’

‘If you lay one finger on me—’

‘So you cheat me out of my inheritance and you won’t even put out. Even the lowliest hooker will let you fuck her after she’s taken your money.’

‘It was not your money,’ I said through gritted teeth.

‘No?’

‘No. It was your father’s money and he could have left it to a cat’s home if he so desired.’

‘But he didn’t,’ he whispered. ‘He left it all to you.’

‘Lucky me.’

‘So how about the victory fuck then?’

‘No, thank you. Now how about you get out of this library and go enjoy the party. Your father would have wanted it.’

His reply was to let his glass drop. It shattered at our feet, the wine splashing up to my calves. He used that moment when I was distracted and surprised to grab me and swoop down on my

startled mouth. His lips crushed, his teeth hurt, and the fumes from the red wine choked me. He ground his erect cock into my horrified body. I raised my hands and tried to push him, but

he was surprisingly strong.