Sweet Addiction

I'm weak.. I couldn't resist having them back... So lets see what Holden has to say for himself, shall we? Oh and please, do leave a review... I'm a feedback whore....
Evie. xxx

*Harvy Nichols, or Harvey Nicks, is a very lovely, very expensive Department Store. Also, Bex is staying in London with Alice.

Looking in the mirror, I decided that it has been worth it, this morning I taken a deep breath as I hand over my credit card, steadying my hand as I typed in the pin code.
There is no way that I can afford a four hundred pound dress, I think my card is having a cardiac arrest, but I needed this dress.
To be honest it was probably tempting fate to even wander into Harvey Nicks*, but I was in London for the wedding, and when I tried on all of my possible outfits this morning, they all looks frumpy and student in the cold, harsh light. This dress was something else entirely. In all honesty I'd never actually been to a wedding, I knew all of the etiquette of course, no white, nothing too showey, no strapless, not too much cleavage, no black, no evening attire to a day service and of course darling, on simply must have a hat. Of course this being Annabelle's wedding I had casually ignored all of the official rules. (Except the hat)
And if I was being entirely honest, the dress did look bloody good. I had been quite logical about the whole thing, Annabelle looked like a coat hanger, right? So I had to play up the curves option. The dress was an emerald green satin which, according to the stunningly gay man in Harvey Nicks, “Really brings out those fabulous eyes, Darling” It was corseted on the top, sleeveless with a halter neck. The satin was skin tight, and followed the rest of my body, hugging it like a second skin down to just above my knees. It gripped my waist, pushing it in further and following the curves of my hip, it pushed my breasts up into a very impressive cleavage and managed to make my legs look longer than my 5”5 stance should really have allowed. I added some very, very high heels and sheer stockings with seams down the back. Not for the first time today, I thank my lucky stars that it is high summer and boiling hot, otherwise I should have to break the whole effect by putting on a jacket. For a hat I have a tiny pillbox felt one that perches on the top of my head, clipped into my hair, it has a small green net that hangs over the face, in what I hope is a sexy screen icon from the 1940's way. I pull my hair back off my face, half up half down. The gentle waves hang down my back, leaving my pale chest and shoulders exposed, clevage out for maxamim affect, it's a cheap shot but what girl wouldn't get her breasts out when seeing the ex boyfreind that took her V plates, then dumped her?
*

Fuck.

Why did they have to get married in the biggest and not to mention hardest to find, church, in London? Thats right ladies and gents, the Right Honorable Annabelle's rentals seem to have the qualifications that allow her to get hitched in St. Paul's Cathedral. And ok, it's a land mark and should have been easy to find but I didn't quite realize how far away from Tooting, St. Paul's was, so when I arrive I'm just the little teeny tiniest bit late.
I sprint chaotically up the stone steps and get the huge doors open, which of course makes a horribly loud noise and absolutely everyone in the Cathedral (including Annabelle and, oh fucking hell, Jack Holden, turn around to look at little old me.
In my super tight, super sexy, wildly inappropriate dress.
Now, four years ago when Jack first met me I would have started shouting about what a scum bag he was, but I was older, and perhaps a little wiser, and I thought that it might be fun to play him a bit. So I saunter, very slowly, swinging my hips, pretending to be Jessica Rabbit, up the aisle in an ironic parody of what Annabelle must have done all of fifteen minuets earlier. Annabelle doesn't look over enthused at my appearance, standing at the front of the Cathedral, sprayed bright orange with St. Tropez fake tan, her hair sprayed up into some intricate tower.
I want to laugh at how ridiculous they look together. Holden is still breathtakingly handsome, tall and broad shoulders in his Morning dress, immaculate. He looks at me, and oh god I wish, wish, wish that I had a camera, the look on his face is absolutely priceless. I take a seat, right at the back and spend the rest of the service thinking about how bizarre their children are going to look. At the end of the service I am jolted out of my daydream by the first few familiar chords of the wedding march. As the process outside, Annabelle possessively gripping Jack's arm, Jack looking thoroughly confused. As the happy couple sail past me, Holden turns to look at me, I spread my full lips into a deliciously deliberate grin, look up briefly, meeting his eyes for a split second, sexual energy flying between us in a way that was highly inappropriate for church, and then look away from him, refusing to meet his gaze again. I thrill runs up and down my body, Oh this is fun! Having all of the power wasn't something that I often got to do with Holden, and it really was a novel experience.

Having pulled off the church performance perfectly, I was determined not to fuck up the reception. As promised, four years earlier, the Bennett-Browns had booked the highly exclusive Soho House. I could very happily have spent the whole afternoon mingling with all of the fascinating, not to mention socially advantageous people, and eating devious food, but I had work to do. Instead I positioned myself, cross legged at the corner of the bar, I sat delicately sipping a glass of champagne (I needed the dutch courage) and pretending not to look for Jack. I had just let myself drift into a day dream about what life would be like if this was our wedding, when I heard a quiet voice behind me. I knew that I'd never forget that voice, that it would always haunt me. I felt his breath on the back of my neck, very gently he ran one finger down my bare arm. “I didn't think you'd make it” . I could smell him, that intoxicating manly devious smell that made me want to lick him all over and do all kinds of naughty things to him. “Neither did I.” I replied, my tone measured. “But the darling Bennett-Browns just made it sound so appealing.
He laughed, “Haven't got any less quick witted, then” He turned and sat on the bar stool next to me, putting both hands on mine and leaning in towards me, suddenly sounding urgent. “Why didn't you ever call? Or anything?”
I look at him, incredulous. “Your joking? Your broke up with me to marry some, some rich bitch.”
He looked down, seeming guilty. “I know.” he sighed. “But I missed you.”
something stirred inside me, he lent on his elbows on the bar, slumped. Defeated. “I can't believe I've just done it.”
I pour out another glass of champagne and slide it across the bar towards him. “Drink. It tends to help.”
He picked up the glass and drained it in one, I look surprised and edge the bottle away from him. “Why?” I ask.
He looks up at me, with those same eyes, the ones that secretly terrified me when he was about to punish me, and sent chills up my spine during history lessons, and then eventually, broke my heart. I tried to summon up those memories that used to hold so much bitterness, those evenings spent crying into a history book, staying up all night studying for my Oxford exam, teacher less. Nothing works. Seeing him like this has dissolved every ounce of bitterness. I look around, at the stunning decoration, the perfect music, hundreds of bottles of vintage champagne. “This is what you wanted” I remind him gently. “The car, the house. All of it. It was what you wanted.”
He looked away from me. “I know.”
“What changed?”
“My father died.”
“Oh Jack, thats awful. I'm so sorry. So, So sorry. When did he die?”
“Four years ago.”
I gasp, putting two and two together, then I gently place my hand on his arm. Some artificial blonder girls give me evil looks from the other side of the room, I ignore them.
“The thing is. He left me the money, my money.”
My mind starts to work... “So you didn't have to marry Annabelle?”
He takes a deep breath, seeming to be thinking about something. He sighs again and looks at me, studying me. “Yes, I did have to marry her”
“Why? Darling, if she doesn't make you happy, you can't stick to your honor that strongly...”
“Fuck my honor Bex! She was blackmailing me.”
“You?”
“Well, us.”
“What the fuck?”
“Language.” He corrects me in that old, eternal way, brining a slow grin to my face. “Seriously, Jack. What's going on? She was blackmailing us?”
“She said, she said that if I didn't marry her she would tell the school, and the press, about us.”
“How did she know?”
“She was having me followed.”
“She's a stalker!”
“No, shes a spoilt brat. And she had a hunch about us. There were photos. Us on the balcony, me coming into the tower, us out riding. Remember what we got up to that afternoon?”
I gasp, again, suddenly furious.”
“And she was going to go to the press?”
“Yes.”
“Why would the press give a fuck about us?”
“Annabelle is one of London's biggest 'It' girls. She's famous. And you know how much the press love a torrid affair. Public school kids behaving badly, all of that.”
“But your not teacher anymore anyway. It wouldn't have mattered, if she had told the press.”
“It wasn't me that I cared about Bex.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you think would have happened to your place at Oxford? You wouldn't have been taken by any good university, your parents would have never forgiven you.”
I stop for a moment, thinking. “You got married, to protect me?”
He nods.
“And you broke up with me... To protect me?”
He slowly nods again.
I stand up, determined, take his hand and pull him up too. “Come on.” I start to walk out of the door, still holding his hand.
“Where are we going?” It's odd being in control, we step out of the fount doors and stand on the London street. Soho is pretty empty, it's late afternoon and the heat is starting to wain. The sun is setting and the sky is completely orange and pink, stunningly beautiful and if I wasn't in such a rush, I would have stopped and notice.
Holden grabs my wrist and pulls me towards him. “What's going on, Jones?”
Should have known that my control wasn't going to last...
I stand on the side of the street and raise an arm, holding my gold clutch purse aloft. The advantage of a dress like this is that you get a taxi fast. A black cab comes hurtling towards us and screeches to a halt. Looking at my gold clutch I'm suddenly reminded of the time that I dropped my bag in the school dining hall, plays and cigarettes going everywhere. I turn around to Jack and look him square in the eye.
“Make a decision. Either get in this cab with me, and take the consequences, or go back upstairs and be her husband. But if you don't come with me now, then it's over. For real. I can't spend the rest of my life waiting for you.”
I open the cab door and get in. The taxi driver looks at me. “Where too, love?”
I look up at Holden. “I don't know. Where too Jack?”
He looks around for a moment. Then gets in.
“The Charlotte Street Hotel.”

The hotel is beautiful. Much more my style than the Soho House, kind and friendly and welcoming. He step in through the doors and walk over the stripped wood floor. Standing at the reception desk I link my arm around Holden's waist and lean my head on his chest, breathing in his smell. He takes out his wallet and puts a credit card on the desk, and gets a room. Once the boring bit is over, he puts his card away and starts towards the lift. “Your no fun” I cry. “Race you!” as I find the stairs and push the door open, taking off my heels and spritining up the stairs.

I arrive out of breath and my hat askew to find Holden standing outside the hotel room door. “You've got the key, Jones”
“So I have, Holden”
“Aren't I Mr Holden?”
“Your not my teacher anymore... I can do what I want” I turn to open the door and he lands a hefty smack on my backside. “You think so, do you?” He smiles at me.

The rooms is lovely, vintage kitsch kind of thing, my immediate instinct is to bounce on the bed, jumping up and down in a state of excitement until my energy finally runs out and I flop down onto the bed, to see Holden making two gin and tonics.
“Jack?”
“Yes.”
“Did I just steal you from your wedding reception?”
“Yes, you did.”
“Did I just take you away from your horrible wife?”
“Yes, Bex.”
“Was that quite naughty?”
He turns around, catching my drift. He starts to loosen his tie.
“I think I've forgotten what happens to naughty girls, Jack.” I stand up on the bed, and undo the hidden zip in the side of my dress. It slides seductively down my body, leaving me standing barefoot, in my stockings, emerald green silk and lace bra and knickers.
Holden steps towards me, undoing his cuff links and rolling up his sleeves. “I think I might be able to remind you what happens to naughty girls...” He mummers seductively as he comes closer to me.

I kneel down on the bed so we're almost eye level and he gently cups the back of my head, kissing my lips, softly, then harder, and suddenly more passionately, pressing his hard, toned body against my softer curves, his hands all over me, clutching desperately at my breasts, my arse, his hands on my thighs, my stomach, stroking my neck
. His usual style and slickness gone, he fumbles with urgency, desperately trying to get my bra off, and it's off, abandoned on the floor, he pushes me backwards onto the bed, his full weight on top of me, we're kissing with more passion and urgency than ever before.
Rolling over I sit on him, ripping open is shirt, buttons flying everywhere. I laugh at the buttons hit the walls, undo his belt and send it snaking across the room, undo his trousers and pull those off too. I kiss his chest, his arms, his neck, his face, I'm craving every tiny millimeter of him. He runs his hand over my breasts, gently pinching my nipples, sending electric pulses through my body. His hand runs down my body and between my legs, he very gently strokes the silk of my knickers, feeling how wet I am. He runs his finger over my clit, sending shivers down my spine. I buck myself against his hand, physically begging him to touch me more, he strokes me again, slightly harder, then he starts to kiss down my body, reaching my knickers and sliding them off, slowly, agonizingly so. Then he spreads my thighs and begins to kiss me, my swollen sex responding to him gratefully, the electric sensation builds faster and faster and before I know it I'm having the most intensive orgasm of my life. Without the bounds of being at school, or in his office I am free to be as vocal as I wish, I moan and cry out loudly, begging for more. He comes back up and stokes me hair, looking at me affectionately. He kneels between my legs, his boxers abandoned now. He touches my swollen lips and whispers in my ear, “I've thought about you everyday. The thought of any other man being with you has driven me mad, I can't stand the thought of anyone hurting you.”

I smile at him. I know what he wants to hear, and luckily I can tell him the truth. “It's always been you. Always”

With that he puts the erect tip of his penis against my pussy, rubbing the tip on my clit, making me shiver with delight. He very tentatively pushes the tip of his cock inside me, I inhale sharply.
“Please,” Knowing what he wants to hear has nothing to do with his, I actually have to beg for it. “Please sir, fuck me.”
He needs no further encouragement. He pushes himself all the way inside me, to the hilt. I gasp a little, I'd forgotten quite how much of him that there is to accommodate, He pounds into me, faster and harder, I gasp and beg for it, running my polished nails up his back, leaving scratch marks, my legs wrapped around his back, he touches some spot deep inside me that no other man had ever had contact with, I gasp one more time and dig my nails deeper into his back, the I cry out with the best, most satisfying orgasm of my life. I feel him come inside me, relishing having so much of him in me, and then feel him relax.
We lie together for a Minuit or so before he rolls off me, and gathers me to his chest. I lie on him, my head above his heart, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart beat. “I love you.” I breath.
“I love you too”
As I lie next to him, I feel complete, I feel real for the first time in four years. It's like getting back a missing limb. This is the happiest I've ever been, so why can't I stop thinking about how Annabelle must feel?