Chapter 19
James had done such a brilliant job of distracting me that I’d completely forgotten his addition to the graffiti on my cast.
And the next morning, at the prospect of finally getting the bloody thing off my leg, I didn’t give it a second thought.
On the drive to St Cuthbert’s for my appointment with Mr Bathurst, James spoke casually of the goings on at NS3. On the back seat, I unravelled the threads from my cut-off trouser leg, contemplating the likelihood of James’s c**k in my arse before the day was out, and I offered monosyllabic replies.
He helped me out of the Mercedes and made certain I had a secure grip on my crutches. “I imagine you’re looking forward to chucking these in the Thames.”
“You cannot imagine how much,” I replied snootily.
He grinned, tugged a lock of my
