Driving Me to Christmas (London Loves Book 5) (3 page)

The sign above the door read: The Dovecoat Boutique. Fine Feathers Make Fine Birds.

Sam stood behind the heavy velvet curtain of the fitting room, dressed in only her knickers, feeling as if she was about to go onstage in a bad dream. This little cubicle was her sanctuary at the moment. It was softly lit and designed to flatter. The three mirrored walls enabled her to see herself from all angles, and no expense had been spared, because this was where ‘madam’ was alone with her body – and with
their
clothing. The aim was to ensure that Sam thought she looked great. But she already knew the dress Scott had picked out was going to be wrong. It looked beautiful hanging there on the padded coat-hanger like a glimmer of glamour in Sam’s ordinary life. It was soft to the touch, and the glorious red colour made Sam feel vibrantly excited. But, like all the other dresses in here, it’d been designed for a 38DD supermodel.

She carefully stepped into it, then inspected herself in all three mirrors. A feeling of foggy frustration engulfed her. It fitted okay, but – as she’d suspected – it was too long. Or her legs were too short. And it was embarrassingly baggy in the chest area.

She sighed.

On the other side of the curtain – in the boutique – she could hear Scott and the sales assistant chatting about the weather over the sound of Mariah Carey’s
All I Want For Christmas
. Sam peeked through a gap and saw Scott leaning against the plush counter, dressed in his skin-tight jeans, knee-length high heels, and fitted military-style coat. From here, his long blond hair and toned butt made him look quite feminine, but Sam knew that under his coat was a chest of rock-solid muscle.

“I don’t know how much more of this cold weather I can take,” Scott was saying. “I prefer the warmer weather. I like wearing slinky summer clothes to show off my gorgeous curves!”

The sales assistant guffawed and Sam felt envy spatter through her. She wanted to be out there laughing with Scott, not in here humiliating herself. The sales assistant was smartly dressed, with jet black hair and a smooth Eastern European accent. She was a woman who clearly who loved to shop. Sam wondered if
she
was the only woman in the whole world who found shopping tiresome. Especially in pretentious little boutiques like this one.

The layout of the shop was stark and shiny, as if the owners were waiting for the stock to be delivered. But apparently it was supposed to be like this; the designer dresses were dotted sparsely around the space, like an afterthought. And the minimalist vibe contrasted bizarrely with the huge chandelier that hung from the low ceiling. Sam didn’t understand it, but apparently it was the height of artistic fashion. Scott should know; he worked in an art gallery.

Sam groaned loudly, realising she couldn’t put this off any longer.

Scott’s concerned voice called out, “You alright, Sam?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s have a look, then.”

Sam braced herself, then drew back the velvet curtain and padded out in her socks, hitching up the dress with her fingers. “Why don’t we just forget about this and grab a coffee? I’m sure I’ve got a dress at home I can wear.”

Scott clapped his hands. “Oh, Sam, you look gorgeous – Verlaine will be so proud!”

The sale assistant nodded. “You do look lovely, madam.”

Sam threw them both a sceptical look. “It’s saggy at the bust and far too long. Is it supposed to make me feel glamorous? Because it makes me feel short and flat-chested.”

Scott gestured to his own five-foot-six body. “I know how you feel – I’m blessed with short genes, too.”

“That’s why you’re wearing four-inch heels.”

“I know, and you can, too! You take what nature gave you and you improvise. Honestly, Sam, you’re perfect!”

Sam recoiled as Scott suddenly grabbed the front of the dress and ruched it up in his hand. She noticed he was wearing electric-blue nail varnish, which made her smile.

Scott scrutinised the material in his fist. “I can adjust this for you, no problem. It just needs a few stiches here… and hey presto!”

“And several inches off the bottom,” Sam said. “It seems stupid to spend tons of money on a dress that you’re going to cut up. How much is it anyway?”

She reached down to grab the price tag.

“No! Me and Paul are paying.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t. Seriously, Sam, you look amazing in this dress. It was made for you.”

She raised a cynical eyebrow. “Really?”

“A taller more busty version of you, perhaps, but you look genuinely beautiful. You must have it!”

Scott let go of the dress and draped both arms around her bare shoulders. He rested his forehead against hers, and gazed into her soul with his huge sapphire eyes. “There are times in a girl’s life when she just needs a pretty dress, okay?”

Sam grinned. Scott was clearly hinting that Verlaine was planning to propose at the ball. Excitement whooshed inside her like a fairground waltzer.

She nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

Scott broke away and inspected the dress again. “I think you need something at the front here. A brooch or something.”

“Do people still wear brooches?”

Scott chuckled. “Of course. Old-fashioned is
in
fashion – I keep telling you!”

“Okay. Well, maybe we can scour the charity shops for something.”

“Yeah, I’m sure a bit of costume jewellery will do it. No need to get the crown jewels on this occasion. You’ll look a million dollars as it is.”

“Aw, Scott! You’re so lovely!”

“
You’re
lovely – such a sweet girl. You’ve brightened up Verlaine’s life since you met him. And mine and Paul’s, too! I can’t wait to see you all dressed up on Christmas Eve.”

Sam’s heart filled with gratitude at his kind compliments. “I’m so glad you and Paul are coming to the ball. It should be a great night. And it’s for charity, so even more reason to go along!”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. And it’ll be nice to see Gemma again. I do like your sister.”

“You like everyone!”

Scott chuckled. “So do
you
!”

Scott reached out and pulled her close, then he linked his fingers through hers and lifted their hands to shoulder height. The music in the background had changed to Bing Crosby’s
White Christmas
, so Scott started to sway in time to the old-fashioned beat. Sam chuckled, and swayed, too. They shuffled their feet, casually dancing together, and Sam sunk into the moment – enjoying this dance in front of their audience of one. Scott stepped back and raised his arm, so Sam twirled under it, and they both giggled. He shot her a mischievous look, then twisted to the side and leaned his body against hers, so she dropped backwards over his arm. She laughed and let her head fall back, taking in the boutique upside down. The sales assistant laughed, too, and Sam felt light and free, as if she and Scott were flying together. A flower of elation blossomed in her chest and she grinned as he helped her to stand up again.

“You two make a lovely couple,” the sales assistant said.

Sam frowned. Did she really think Scott was straight?

“A couple of what?” Sam asked, with a wink.

“A couple of really good friends?” the woman asked.

“We’re very good friends,” Scott said. “Sam’s the greatest.”

“Thank you, Scott!”

He held up his credit card. “We’ll take the dress. Are you gonna wear it, Sam?”

Sam burst into laughter. “No, it’s freezing out there!”

“Alright; go and get changed. See you back here in a mo.”

Sam was relieved to pour herself back into her comfy jeans and baggy sweater. She threw her sheepskin coat over her arm and strode out to meet Scott by the counter.

Scott greeted her with an affectionate smile, then he took Sam’s coat from her and held it up, like a true gent.

She twisted her arm back to find the proffered sleeve, trying not to feel too self-conscious. It always made her laugh when guys did this for her, because actually, it was quite awkward to put a coat on like this – Sam preferred to just do it herself. But Scott was being kind, and Sam wasn’t going to throw that in his face.

“Thank you, sir!” she said.

He eased the coat over her shoulders, then wrapped Sam up in his arms from behind. Sam gazed in the mirror and she realised they looked like the perfect happy couple.

Scott caught her eye in the reflection. He lowered his face to her ear. “You’re beautiful.”

Sam blushed and pulled away. She enjoyed the attention from Scott and they were great friends. But just because
he
could never find
her
attractive, surely he wasn’t so naïve to think she couldn’t be turned on by being in the arms of a hot guy – regardless of
his
sexual preferences. Enough gay men drooled over Scott on a daily basis, surely, for him to realise that some straight women would find him appealing, too.

Scott grabbed the boutique bag from the counter, and they said goodbye to the sales assistant, then they stepped out into the freezing Kensington street.

It was jam-packed with Christmas shoppers out here, but the mass of bodies didn’t help to warm the icy air. It was cold, damp, and dark already – and it was only four-thirty in the afternoon. Sam yearned for those glorious long light summer days of freedom and warmth.  But they wouldn’t be here for another five months.

She tried to form a force-field around herself to bat away the desolate feelings that were trying to seep in. The pretty Christmas lights sparkled gleefully, and as Sam and Scott negotiated the onslaught of bargain-hunters, her ears zoned in on the sound of the Salvation Army band playing her favourite carol. She bit back the tears. Her mum had loved that tune, too.

Scott’s voice pulled her out of her sadness. “Oh, by the way, you know you said you were interested in coming along to one of those special parties me and Paul have been frequenting recently?”

Sam felt herself flush with arousal. “Yeah?”

“Well, we’re going to one tomorrow night, if you’re interested?”

“I’m definitely interested! Is it a gay night?”

“No. We tried the gay night, but it was just full of horny blokes. It seemed like a fuck-fest, rather than the more respectful atmosphere of the mixed couples.”

Sam stepped in front of Scott as they were forced into single-file by the oncoming pedestrians. She spoke over her shoulder. “I’d love to come!”

“I’m
sure
you would!”

“You know what I mean! I’d love to come
with
you – god, that sounds even worse!”

Scott giggled smuttily. “You’re welcome to come along with me and Paul. We’ll look after you. Both of you.”

“Hmm, yeah. I’ll need to convince Verlaine. He did say he’d be interested last time I spoke to him about it. But we’d have to leave his parents for the night – we’re spending the day at the big house with them tomorrow. ”

“I know; Verlaine invited us, too. Paul and I might drop by and join you for the afternoon.”

“That would help me a lot – otherwise I’ll be stuck with the Americans all day!”

“Alright, we’ll see. And I don’t think it’ll be too difficult to persuade Verlaine to come to the party. You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger.”

“I hope so. I’ll see if I can convince him later. Why don’t we go and plan my seduction now over a warming cup of tea?”

Scott draped his arm around her and pulled her close. “Sounds perfect. Then it’s back to the shopping!”

Scott dropped Sam back home and she hugged him tightly – leaving the dress with him to adjust. Then, after she’d switched on the central heating, she decided to surprise Verlaine with a nice warming meal to cheer him up after what had probably been a depressing day with her sister. She flicked on the kitchen radio, heard the opening lines of Mariah Carey, and quickly turned it off again to prevent that annoying ditty from possessing her brain for the rest of eternity. She glanced up at the ceiling and sighed, wishing Verlaine would change that flickering light-bulb above the oven, so it didn’t feel like they were eating in a seedy discotheque. 

Like the rest of their little terraced house, this kitchen had seen better days. Better decades, in fact. For a start it was a funny shape. One end was as narrow as a train corridor, with the white goods and cupboards crammed in. But then it fanned out into a wider section by the door, where the dilapidated table devoured most of the floor space. The plastic counters were scuffed and some of the floor tiles were cracked, but Sam loved it because it was
theirs
.

They hadn’t bothered to deck the halls with boughs of holly this year, because they’d hoped to be dipping their toes into the balmy Indian Ocean instead. And there was no point now anyway, because they’d been summoned to the big house to spend Christmas with the in-laws. But at least it should mean Sam would get some decent home-cooking via Verlaine’s mum.

Sam didn’t particularly enjoy cooking, but she and Verlaine always shared the household chores, so sometimes it was her turn. Sam knew Verlaine’s parents were quite traditional where gender roles were concerned, and she’d allowed herself to get drawn into an argument about misogyny with Verlaine’s dad last time she’d seen him, where he’d insisted cooking was for women. It hadn’t ended well; she’d ended up calling him a sexist dinosaur and stormed off outside. She cringed as the memory spiralled up inside her now, and she wished she didn’t react so badly to sexism – it seemed to be her only lingering anger button.

Hopefully all was forgiven. But there was no way Sam would ever change herself to please her in-laws. Verlaine loved her, and if he
was
the type of man who expected her to do all the housework, she obviously wouldn’t be with him.

But, they needed to eat, and veggie fajitas would be easy enough. Sam cranked up some of her own music and set about preparing the peppers, tomatoes, and tofu. Her vegetarianism was another contentious subject with Verlaine’s all-American father, but she shoved her future father-in-law from her mind for now and focused on chopping up the peppers. She vowed to remain calm and polite when she saw Verlaine’s parents tomorrow. She hated being superficial, but sometimes you had to hold your tongue to keep the peace. They were only here for a week, and then life would return to normal. It would be over like a whirlwind, and Sam just needed to try to hang on the best she could.

She was yanked out of her thoughts by the sound of the front door opening. Her melancholy mood zoomed upwards and she grinned.

“Where’s my sexy girl?” Verlaine called.

Sam chuckled. “In here!”

“In the kitchen? You’re not cookin’, are ya?”

“Very funny. Yes I am.”

He appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking cold and tired. But his big brown eyes sparkled with joy as they wrapped her up in a loving gaze. Verlaine possessed the longest eyelashes Sam had ever seen, and she secretly coveted them. His lovely presence ignited a sunshine sensation in her heart.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hiya.” He threw her a cheeky grin, making his sculpted cheeks dimple and his lips pout. He looked incredibly sexy dressed in his jeans and blue V-neck sweater – which Scott and Paul had given him for his birthday. It was quite tight, and it emphasised his toned pecs, as well as revealing a tuft of chest hair. Sam was certain Verlaine had no idea how attractive he actually was. Or maybe it was just because she adored him so much, he looked like the perfect man to her.

“Smells great,” he said. “And you’re looking awesome!”

He strode over and hugged her tightly, showering her with kisses and making her giggle.

“Thanks,” she said between kisses. “I don’t know what smells great, though. I haven’t started cooking yet.”

He held her in his arms and gazed at her. “It must be
you
who smells good enough to eat then.”

Arousal squirmed in her panties. She smirked, broke out of his arms, and turned back to the chopping board. He’d need to try a better chat-up line than that.

“How was the car auction?” she asked.

Verlaine’s demeanour sagged. “Oh Jeez, it was okay. We bought the most boring cars I ever saw, but Gemma went away happy.”

“Happy?”

“Well, happy with the cars. Not about her broken marriage and immense physical discomfort.”

Sam grabbed the next pepper to be sliced. “I wish I knew why she’d kicked Jack out. She won’t tell me what he did, but I’ll kill him if he’s hurt her. I bet he cheated on her.”

“No he didn’t! Jack’s the innocent party in all this.”

Sam frowned. “How do you know? Has Gemma spoken to you about it?”

Verlaine didn’t answer. His face flashed with guilt for a nanosecond, then he looked away and busied himself by rummaging in a cupboard.

“She
has
told you something, hasn’t she?” Sam asked.

Verlaine placed a frying pan on the table. “She swore me to secrecy, baby – I can’t tell you.”

“Yes you can – she’s my sister!”

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Sam stepped over and pulled him roughly towards her. She ran her hands up inside his sweater, enjoying the feel of his strong upper body. “Tell me!”

He burst into laughter. “Touching me like that won’t work, baby – I can’t!”

Sam raised herself onto her tiptoes and kissed him passionately on the lips.

His arms fell around her and he pulled her close. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said.

She reached down and stroked his semi-hard erection through his jeans, making him exhale with pleasure. Sam gazed up at him, knowing how irresistible she looked in this coy pose.

He chuckled at her efforts. “I can’t tell you, baby! I’ll make love to you, of course – gladly! But I honestly can’t tell you what Gemma said about Jack.”

“Verlaine, she’s my sister. You
can
tell me. I won’t tell her you’ve told me.”

Verlaine stepped away and held up his hands. “Stop it, okay. Look, she’s come this close to firing me twice this week cuz she’s so full of hormones. If I tell you what she told me, and she finds out, she’ll kick
me
out too! She’s my boss – I can’t risk her bad moods. You’ll just have to let her tell you, alright.”

Sam nodded. She picked up the knife and coolly resumed chopping the pepper. “Okay. Actually, I’m glad you won’t allow yourself to be seduced that easily. It shows mental strength.”

Verlaine laughed and massaged her shoulders, causing her thighs to melt with desire.

He nuzzled his face into her neck. “I do find it hard to resist those gorgeous brown eyes of yours.”

Sam smirked. “Well, actually, there was something else I needed to convince you of, so maybe that’s why I let go the Gemma thing.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Er, I saw Scott this afternoon.”

“I know. And?”

“And… him and Paul are going to one of their special parties tomorrow night. And Scott was wondering if we’d like to go too?”

Verlaine’s hands froze mid-massage. “And you said no, right?”

“No, I said we’d go. Come on, baby – we’ve talked about this. It’ll be fun!”

“Fun? Sam, I don’t wanna watch some other guy fucking you.”

She turned to face him. “You wouldn’t! That’s not what Scott and Paul do – I’ve told you this. They just enjoy watching and
being
watched. And there’s no pressure on us to do anything but walk around, fully clothed, just having a look. Scott says it’s really classy; not sleazy, like you’re thinking. Don’t you ever talk to Paul about things like this?”

“Of course not – he’s my best friend.”

Sam chuckled. “Your best friend’s precisely who you
should
tell stuff like that to!”

Verlaine fell serious and scratched his stubble. “Look, okay, I admit I am curious and I’d like to go along one time. But we’ll be with my parents tomorrow night and it’s not fair to leave ‘em when they’ve only just arrived. Maybe we should go to the next one.”

“Your parents invited themselves here. They’ll be okay – they’ll be with Rebecca and her mum. Verlaine, please? Scott said this is gonna be the best one of the year so far. Apparently there’s a Christmas theme and there’ll be a naked Santa. We can sit on his knee and tell him who we want for Christmas. I’ll wish for
you
, of course!”

Verlaine laughed wearily. “Oh god!”

Sam laughed, too. “Please? It sounds fun. God knows we need some fun after missing out on our holiday, and everything else we’ve been through recently. Go on, baby. You know you want to.”

“Well, okay. But I definitely don’t want my parents knowing where we’re going.”

“I don’t want them to know either! My reputation as ‘sweet innocent Sam’ would be tarnished if they knew I was leading their little boy into a den of iniquity.”

“Right. They’d probably have a fucking fit.”

“Hmm… a ‘fucking fit’ sounds like just what I need right now!”

Sam stepped forward and kissed Verlaine’s exposed collarbone. Her lips tingled against his soft skin, and she probed her finger into the V of his sweater to reveal some more of his torso. Her eyes fell on his downy chest hair and she smirked – he was like a present for her to unwrap. He kissed her tenderly on the forehead, causing a shot of energy to flash between her thighs.  

“We could have our own orgy right here.” he said.

“I’d like that.”

Sam lifted his sweater up and hooked it over his head, so it was covering his shoulders. It emphasised his toned chest and made him look like he was wearing a harness. Now she had him bound, what was she going to do with him?

She reached up and traced her fingers along the line that ran from his shoulder to his pectoral muscle. A lifetime’s-worth of doing a physical job had paid off well. Arousal rushed through Sam, and she suddenly became animated. She threw her arm over his shoulder and kissed him hard. He gasped and kissed her strongly. She tugged at the sweater – which was still binding his shoulders – making him bend backwards slightly. It made her feel powerful to have this control over him. She leaned forward and kissed him on the side of the neck – biting him softly like a vampire. He pulled her close, wrapping his legs around hers, so that their pelvises were touching. They were going to fuck each other here in the kitchen, she was sure of it. He moaned – deep and throaty – and exhaled hard into her ear. 

Sam unzipped his flies, then delved her hand inside and fished out his hard cock.

“Sit down and let me ride you,” she said.

Verlaine didn’t take his eyes off her as he stripped his sweater off his shoulders and threw it on the floor. Then – unbound – he reached back to grab a chair and lowered himself down, easing his jeans and boxers off as he sat. Sam pulled off her T-shirt, revealing her braless chest, and making Verlaine’s expression crumple with desire.

She turned her back on him and glanced over her shoulder, throwing him a flirty grin. He’d already taken himself in-hand and was slowly massaging his hard cock between his fingers. Sam undid her jeans and pulled them halfway down, so Verlaine could see the top of her panties covering her ass.

“Like the look of that?” she asked.

“Come ‘ere,” he said. “I need to touch you.”

She quickly removed her jeans, throwing them on the table. Then she strutted over to stand between his thighs. His hands instinctively grabbed her hips.

“Fuck, you’re hot.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

She bent at the waist, tipping her breasts in his face and sticking her ass out behind her. She felt strong and sexy, and she knew she was driving Verlaine wild.

He licked her nipple then sucked it gently. Sam had been known to climax from this alone and, from the way her head was swirling now, today was possibly one of those days.

But she wanted him to enjoy this, too. She pulled away and turned around so his face was level with her butt. She bent again, offering her ass to him. He reached up and eased her panties down at the back – then she felt his tongue lick between her buttocks, down over her rim, and into the back of her pussy. He reached his hand around and gently rubbed her clit through the moist cotton at the front of her panties, continuing to give her oral from behind.

Sam’s knees buckle with the pleasure, so she stood straight then turned to face him. She glanced down and saw how desperately his cock wanted her – it was seeping with pre-cum and straining at full length.

She pretended to be coy. “Do you want me to sit on your lap?”