Dark Desires: An age gap dark romance, page 1
DARK DESIRES
EFFIE CAMPBELL
Copyright © 2023 by Effie Campbell
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For all the readers who crave a man who’s older, hotter and willing to enthusiastically share you with all of his friends as he calls you their best little cock-taker…
This one’s for you.
WARNINGS
This book contains spicy content, depictions of death and sexual assault (not between the main characters). There is discussion of grooming and SA from childhood (not the MC’s and not depicted). There is violence toward numerous characters as part of the plot, but not toward each other.
It is also written in the UK, and I use British English for spelling. If you are from elsewhere - forgive me! Remember that these are hot Scots and just imagine it in their voices, it makes it all better.
CONTENTS
Dedication
Warnings
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
CHAPTER FORTY THREE
CHAPTER FORTY FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY SIX
CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
Epilogue
The McGowan Series
A note from the author
CHAPTER ONE
VALENTINA
Rain battered down onto my head as I punched the code into the door. Smiling as it opened beneath my hands and Muhammed, the doorman, ushered me inside.
‘Evening, Miss,’ he said, the crinkles surrounding his eyes deepening as he set me with a grin.
‘I’ve lived here for four years. You can call me Valentina.’ We had the same conversation periodically, but he was ever the professional.
‘Yes, Miss Valentina.’
I shook my head and smiled as I stood dripping rain all over the entryway.
‘Busy night?’ I asked, taking off my raincoat and folding it over my arm.
‘Nothing crazy happening so far. Plenty of time to catch up on my reading.’
‘Oh, that reminds me!’ I said, pushing my coat under one arm as I rooted through my bag. ‘I saw this one in the bookshop earlier and thought you might like it.’
I held out the brown paper package containing the book I picked up for him. He lowered his eyes to the package as we completed our usual dance around it.
‘You shouldn’t have...’ he started.
‘It’s nothing much, it was in the second hand pile.’
‘Well, if it needs a good home.’
‘Precisely!’
I smiled as he took the book, eagerly peeping into the package.
‘You haven’t read it, have you?’ I shifted on my feet, my heels making my arches ache after a long day of shopping and doing life admin.
‘I haven’t! And it’s by Greene too. You’re a wee star, Miss. Thank you.’
A thread of satisfaction flowed through me at his pleasure. Gifting him a book was a simple thing, but even though he was my doorman with a family of his own, I was a sucker for making people happy, especially older men. Classic case of missing my father growing up, I supposed. I’d never even had the chance to meet him. He put a baby in my mother, then a drunk driver removed him from existence before he even knew I existed.
It’s why people thought I cammed. Classic Daddy issues. Maybe it was a part of it, but mostly it was because I loved sex and all things smutty, but didn’t want to invite a string of guys into my life who only ever disappointed me. Cam girl me was a fantasy, and I could play with the dangerous without it ever really being harmful to me.
‘Right, off you go upstairs and get yourself dry. You’ll catch your death if you stand here soaked.’ Muhammed walked me to the lift, pressing the button to call it down before ushering me inside.
‘You just want me to leave so you can get back to your books,’ I said with a false pout.
‘Can’t blame me. He’s about to confront the killer.’
‘Well, in that case, I’ll leave you to it.’ I stepped into the lift and gave him a wave.
A few moments later, the lift pinged on the 5th floor, and the doors opened out onto the small corridor which held four flats. Mine with my roommate Lara, old Mrs Graham’s with her rowdy Jack Russell, Ivor, the one owned by an American who had never visited it as far as we knew, that sat at the end of the corridor, and our neighbour, Tim’s.
Tim had a knack for needing to put the bins out or collect mail right as I came home. I swore he must spend as much time in the corridor as he did in his flat.
He was sweet, but intense.
Sure enough, he was watering the plants that he kept outside his door as I exited the lift.
‘Evening, M’lady.’
Honestly, who says M’lady? What was he, a knight?
‘Hi, Tim.’
I stood awkwardly in the corridor as I pulled my key out of my bag.
‘Lovely evening for ducks.’
He was only my age as far as I could tell, mid twenties maximum, but he spoke like he was seventy.
I smiled tightly. ‘Sure is. Tipping it down out there.’
‘Good for the grass.’ He chuckled to himself while keeping his eyes fixed on me.
‘Yeah,’ I replied, toying with the key in my hand as I glanced at my door. We didn’t even have grass. My flat was in Glasgow city centre and entirely surrounded by pavement. ‘I should go get some dinner. Lara will be waiting.’
He went back to spraying his plants with the tiny spritz bottle with a nod. ‘I’ll be seeing you.’
Such a freaking weird guy. Nice enough, but talking to him always made me second guess myself.
Letting myself into my flat, I breathed a sigh of relief when I latched the door behind me before hanging up my wet coat and taking off my shoes. Flexing my sore feet against the cold tile was glorious.
‘Hey, it’s just me,’ I called out as I made my way through the spacious flat and into the kitchen, taking a peek into the slow cooker which stood bubbling on the counter. My mother would call it a crime to cook lasagne in there, but it was bloody delicious and ready when I walked in the door. Who can argue with that?
Moments later, Lara popped her head out of her room and grinned. ‘Welcome home. Was your little love waiting outside for you?’
‘Ugh, don’t call him that.’
‘It’s true though, he practically has those big cartoon heart eyes for you.’
‘Shut up.’ I nudged her as she walked into the kitchen area, grabbing two glasses and topping them up with a crisp white wine. She put them on the coffee table as I served up the lasagne and sat next to her on the sofa.
It should have been weird that she wore a nurse’s outfit, but after living together for two years, and both of us camming from home, there was little we hadn’t seen - or heard - from one another. Just another part of the job.
‘How’s it going tonight? Busy?’ I asked between mouthfuls of food as Lara flicked on a reality show she loved. It wasn’t my thing, but I could appreciate the toned, buff men and women who loitered around in bikinis.
‘Surprisingly busy. You should hop on for a bit after dinner.’
‘With my pasta belly? No one wants to see that.’
We looked at each other before laughing. We both knew that the guys rarely gave a darn about a bit of bloat as long as you said the right things and flashed some skin.
‘Do you want to tag-team tonight?’ Lara asked.
Occasionally we’d team up to get the punters ravenous. It always brought out a few big tippers. But what I actually wanted to do was curl up in bed and finish the scarf I was knitting.
‘Not that I don’t love you, but I think I’ll just pop on for a quick half an hour until I hit my evening goal and then bow out. I don’t think I have the energy for more excitement than that tonight.’
‘You just hate my vagina. It’
‘It’s as good a vagina as I ever met,’ I said with a wink.
‘I know you just prefer a big slice of man meat. How can a girl compete with that?’
‘You’re pretty partial to the special sausage yourself, if I remember correctly.’ I raised my eyebrows before waggling them at her.
‘It is pretty addictive.’
‘Truth,’ I agreed, taking a sip of my wine before finishing my food while watching the hotties fumble under a duvet on the TV.
My laptop hummed to life as I sat on my bed in a pink, frilled lingerie set. I’d pulled my dark hair back over one shoulder and put on a full face of makeup, loving going all out even if it was only for a short time. I swore half of my income went on makeup while the other half went on pretty clothes. Well, the amount I allowed myself as spending money, anyway. Growing up with little while related to incredibly wealthy people had left me with a fierce need to have a nest egg. Money was power, and I didn’t want to need help from anyone financially. My family’s money came with chains, and I wasn’t for being tied down. Not like that, at least.
Pulling up the ‘Primal Pretties’ site, I sat back on my bed and waited as my open chat filled up.
‘Evening, beautiful.’
‘You’ve got too many clothes on.’
‘Come on, slut, show us your pussy.’
‘How’s u?’
Message after message popped up, and I typed out replies to most of them, purposefully ignoring the rude ones. I’d learned early on that they were looking for a rise. As long as they were in the chat, I’ve made some money, so I consoled myself by taking their site credits and utterly ignoring them. The site was for people with kinks that veered toward the more extreme, and it tended to attract a few total weirdos. Not the usual kinky guys and girls, but those who were looking to scare and provoke the women who cammed. I reported them every time and thankfully the female owner of the site took reports seriously. No one should feel unsafe at work, not even in more risque jobs.
I smiled as one of my regulars stood out among the crowd. The guy was super into feet and had probably stumbled onto the wrong site, but happily kept coming back as long as I stretched my legs toward the camera without shoes on. Wriggling my stocking clad toes had him sending a tip that almost filled half of my nightly goal.
‘Thank you, Sir,’ I said, which sent the guys into a tumble of messages. Sir, Daddy, Master, hell even God. They went crazy for it. So did I, if I was being honest. I’d only had a handful of lacklustre kinky sex experiences, most guys saying they were into choking, or rough sex, but actually just willing to say anything to get their dick wet. Once the pants were off, they all turned into the same little jack rabbits with one goal in mind. Nutting.
At least with the camming they were often willing to fall into the fantasy a bit more, so I could get off at least imagining that it was real. What it would be like to be with someone who actually wanted to drag me over his knee, or punish me with a hard cock in front of his friends for bratting out.
A girl could dream, right?
It’s why I mooned over the older guys,. Guys my age - twenty two - were too unsure in themselves to take the lead. I’m sure some, somewhere could, but all the ones I’d tried out were all bluster, no substance.
A request for a private chat popped up after a few minutes and I said goodbye to the open chat as I accepted it. Private chats were where the big bucks were.
‘Hi,’ I said, reading the screen as I clicked on his profile quickly. Breathplay lover, Dom, Doesn’t like brats. Shame. Time for the good girl act. ‘How are you?’
‘Good. I like you in pink.’
‘Thank you....’
‘Master, call me Master.’
His video clicked on and showed me a stained t-shirt stretched over a large belly, and a small, hard cock already being tugged furiously.
I sighed as I sat up on my knees, toying with my hair. ‘Yes, Master.’
He groaned, and I knew it wouldn’t be a very long call, and definitely not one that I’d be able to dip into fantasyland for.
‘Get your tits out, girl, and your pussy. I bet you’re so wet for me.’
Dry as a flipping desert.
‘Oh yes, Master, I’m so wet. I’ve been waiting for you.’
‘Yes, you fucking have.’ He fisted his dick and gave it a furious tug.
I removed my bra and dropped it onto the bed, sliding my hands down over my nipples to get them to stand to attention. Then the panties, leaving me in nothing but my frilly pink garter belt and stockings.
‘Fuck, I want to bite your little tits,’ he said as I ran my fingers past my clit, trying to elicit some sort of fun out of it. Some nights were just duds. And Mr. Stained Tee wasn’t doing anything for me.
‘Oh, Master, I’d love to feel your teeth on my tits. Would you be ever so rough?’
‘I’d fucking destroy that snatch of yours.’
Snatch. Ugh.
‘Tell me what you’d do...’ I hoped he was a talker, that made it easier. A lot of the guys loved to hear their own voices.
‘I’d fuck that dirty little snatch until you begged me to stop.’
I moaned as I pushed two fingers inside myself, arching my back like I was having the best time. Should have grabbed the lube, not nearly wet enough for it.
‘Then I’d stuff my cock into that ass and fill it up with cum. I bet you’d cry.’
‘I would Master, it hurts so bad being fucked there.’
‘But you deserve it for being such a little whore, spreading your legs for anyone who will open their wallet.’
It stung a bit, because it was true. I loved my job, and I didn’t feel ashamed about it most of the time. But when guys looked down on me for it, it still hit a spot inside that I couldn’t quite shut off completely.
I watched the clock as I put on a fake performance, mewling and moaning in all the right places as his tiny dick reddened in his furious death grip. He was taking longer than I’d bargained for. More money, but he wasn’t nearly as fun as some others. Should have waited for the foot guy. He just let me read or knit with my feet close to the camera as he wanked. The easiest nights ever. Or the hot old guy with the deep southern accent from the US. He wasn’t much to look at, but his voice was growly and low and it made me tingle.
‘Bend over for me, slut, I’m going to fucking cum.’
At last.
I bent over on the bed, spreading wide while fingering myself slowly.
‘Come for me,’ he said as he let out a whimper.
‘Yes Master, thank you,’ I said as I went into an over the top cry of pleasure, tensing around my fingers rhythmically in case he was watching close enough to suspect it was fake. ‘You’re cock feels so gooooood.’
I sat up as my laptop dinged, letting me know he’d ended the chat.
Not even a good night. Arsehole.
I closed the computer and tidied away my lingerie, tipping it into my laundry basket before grabbing a cute nightie covered in paw prints that I wouldn’t be seen dead in on camera, and tugging it over my head.
Finally, after tidying up, removing my makeup and brushing my teeth, I climbed into my bed, grabbed my vibrator and finished the job that was sorely left lacking.
I didn’t imagine the stained tee guy. In my head I was with a tattooed freak who pinned me to the bed by my throat and whispered dirty, degrading things into my ear. I came hard, crying out into my pillow as my fictional man called me names which I’d never dared utter out loud.
