Dirty Bad Secrets (11 page)

I fished a completed card from the glitter, and it looked like a poorly executed primary school project.

“Kiss my ass. Five points. It’s time for your partner to get down on all fours and pucker up for some deep anal smooching. Five straight minutes of asshole worship are heading their way. Tongue penetration compulsory.”

“Do you like it?” Topaz asked, hopefully.

I flicked through the rest of the pile, fighting the urge to laugh at the curly writing.

“
Ride ’em, Cowboy. Five points. It’s bronco time! Your job is to ride your partner and hold on tight, their job is to buck you off. Whoever gets off first is the winner.
”

“See what I did there?” she smiled. “Whoever
gets off first
?”

I declined the opportunity to comment either way.

“So, where is she?” I said. “And how much of a hissy fit am I walking into?”

“In your office,” she replied. I stared her out until she continued. “She’s… a little upset.”

“Upset as in hysterical tears, or upset as in carving knife to the face?”

She shrugged. “I think you’d better find that out for yourself.”

I hung up my coat without a word, glancing across her desk for just a moment on the way to mine. Today’s mail was still in piles, unopened.

“You’ve missed the post,” I said. “Those cheques should have been banked hours ago. If you want to take the reins, Faye, you’ve got to steer the bloody horse.”

Her mouth was a puckered little hole of hate. “Where the fuck have you been? Where the fuck were you today?!”

“Annual leave,” I said. “You’d have to agree, I’m owed quite some time.” I took my seat and fired up my laptop. “I trust you coped just fine in my absence,
partner
?”

Her palms slammed hard against her desk, but I didn’t even look in her direction. “Why are you being like this?
I
won the toss!
You
flipped the fucking coin! We had a fucking agreement, Andy. You promised me!”

“Poor little Faye, my heart fucking bleeds,” I said. “Don’t even start. I wasn’t in today, big fucking doo dah.
You
haven’t been in for three fucking years.”

In a heartbeat she’d gathered up the half-opened mail and thrown it in my lap. “Sort this fucking post, Andy,” she hissed. “It’s
your
job today.
You
should have been here to do it on time.”

I gathered up the envelopes and launched them back in her direction. “No, Faye.
Your
job.
Your
responsibility. A stupid bloody coin toss doesn’t change the basic premise of our dynamic here. The truth is that you don’t know the first thing about running this club, and today has merely proved my point.”

“And what fucking point would that be?”

I flashed her a bitter smile. “Today was your chance to step up and find your feet. A chance to get on with the shit you could take ownership of, all it would have taken was a hard day’s graft and the use of that sharp fucking brain in your skull. What really happened? Fuck all. That’s what happened.” I yanked a pile of paperwork from my in-tray. “See these? Invoices that need putting onto the system.” I held up a handful of others. “These ones here have got notes on them, very simple to follow. We have queries on these, they need a call put in to the suppliers to sort out the discrepancies.” I shoved them all back in the tray. “You could have asked Topaz what needed doing. We need another member for the door team, you could have looked through the advert templates in the staff folder and stuck an advert online. If you’d have really wanted to step up to the plate you could have written one of your own.
You
didn’t even get the post sorted. Need I go on any further, Faye? Really?”

Her finger jabbed in my direction. “This is crap and you know it. I’d have done all of that stuff if you’d bothered to come in and show me!”

“Would you? Doesn’t seem that way from where I’m sitting. It seems you’re only interested in playing Princess Pouty and setting Topaz loose on some ridiculous art project. Have you even seen those things out there?” I snapped. “It looks like you’ve let a toddler play with a glitter gun. What image is that going to give of our professionalism here?”

“Truth or dare night is a good idea, Andy, whatever you think about the glitter.” Our eyes simmered as they met, and her jaw looked as rigid as mine felt. “You had no intention of keeping to our agreement, did you? No intention whatsoever of letting me have a proper place in this club. It was just a stupid game to stall me, to make me think we could work this out.”

It was my turn to jab the finger. “Don’t you dare fucking start that shit, Faye. I had every intention of keeping to our agreement. Who sat there all fucking day with you yesterday while you stuck your oar in like a self-righteous fucking prick?”

“I was asking basic questions, Andy. Basic fucking questions. I’m entitled to know how to do shit around here! I’m entitled to know what the fuck is going on!” Her voice was sharper than usual, sharp and shrill. And then it cracked. “I did everything you wanted!” she shrieked. “I worked bar, I did the mail, I even cleaned up shitty fucking condoms from the fucking drain! I put up with every shitty thing you threw my way! I PLAYED FAIR, ANDY! I PLAYED FUCKING FAIR!” She slapped a hand on the desk.

And then she went quiet. Her hand clasped over her mouth and her shoulders did that horrible fucking judder that only means tears.

“And that’s it, is it?” I said. “Poor little Faye is going to cry her eyes out because Andy’s so fucking mean to her. That’s where we’re at?”

She raised her hand, and the slightest little sob slipped out of her. It was a pitiful fucking noise, and it smacked me right in the fucking stomach.

“What are you going to do now, Faye?” I sneered. “Google some fucking lawyers again? Run off back to Vincent cunt-face Blackthorne? Hide in your shitty little hotel room and cry it all out? What’s it going to be, Faye?”

She caught her breath and summoned a sliver of composure, even though her eyes were pools of hurt. “You don’t want me here, Andy. You’ll never let me back in, will you? Not as a partner. It doesn’t matter what I do now, I’ll always be the enemy.”

“You think that, do you?” I snapped. “That’s really what you fucking think? You’re sitting in my fucking office, at your old fucking desk. You have a fucking in-tray, and a laptop, and a fucking telephone extension. I think I’ve been really pissing generous, all things considered.”

“You don’t treat me anything like an equal!”

“So make me!” I raged. “You want respect, you fucking earn it! You want to be my fucking partner again, then you’ll have to stand up tall and stand your fucking ground! We’re going to butt heads, Faye, all the fucking time. That’s who I am! I’m not going to roll onto my back for you like some spineless fucking squib. I make decisions, I take charge, I boss people around, that’s who I fucking am! Stand up for yourself. You should have called me on the mobile the second you knew I wasn’t coming in, and you should have bollocked me, like I’d bollock you, and believe me, I’d fucking bollock you. You should have told me to get my fucking arse into work, to stop being such an irresponsible, stroppy fucking cunt and to get the fuck on with it.”

“Like you’d have listened! Andy Morgan doesn’t fucking listen!” she spat.

“Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn’t, but you’d have been in the fucking right, Faye, and even I’m not such a thick-skulled fucking asshole that I wouldn’t have seen it. You get respect by demanding it. You’ll be my partner again when you learn to fucking act like one.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do!” she hissed, and there were tears again, rolling down her cheeks in mascara-streaked rivers. She was a pain in the ass; a hysterical, whimpering, self-pitying ghost of the woman I risked a fucking fortune for, but she was so fucking beautiful that she took my breath.

I stormed to the filing cabinet at the back of the room, unloading boxes of paperwork from the top before I managed to reach what I was aiming for. I slammed the case down in front of her, springing open the clasps with angry fingers. The case was a bespoke walnut masterpiece, lined with black silk, and much more expensive than the contents.

The tears stopped in a heartbeat, and she stared up at me with big glassy eyes. “What’s this?”

“What does it fucking look like?” I said. I pulled out the cane and tapped it against my palm. My own personal favourite, and it felt just as smooth as I remembered it. A decent weight, yet springy enough to draw blood if you caught the skin right. She took out the paddle, and the strap, too, turning them over in her hands in nothing short of wonder.

I dropped the cane back in its case, and leaned over until her face was just an inch from mine. “So, what’s it going to be, Faye? Are you going to stand up for yourself and teach me a fucking lesson, or am I going to bend you over that desk and give you something to really cry about?”

***

Faye

Andy’s eyes were dark, dredging mine for the slightest sniff of weakness. His whole body was wired; tense and tightly wound, ready to spring for my throat.

It would have been so easy to let him. But not today. This was
my
day.
My
week.

I got to my feet, summoning every ounce of grit in my body.

“Strip,” I said. “Everything.”

His eyes flashed with the desire for rebellion, but his body followed my orders. He slipped off his jacket, then fumbled at his cufflinks, dropping them onto the desk with a metallic clunk. He pulled off his tie, laying it neatly across his jacket before his fingers worked their way down his shirt buttons. Solid shoulders topped a chest that was tight and toned, tapering into the sculpted wall of his abs and the muscular V of his hips. He kicked his shoes and socks off, unbuckled his belt and loosened his trousers just enough to drop them to the floor.

“Everything,” I repeated.

He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers and slid them down, making no effort to hide the thick swell of his cock.

His eyes ploughed into mine, and they were simmering; vicious and angry and clearly pissed off. I liked him that way. It would make hurting him taste all the fucking sweeter.

“What now?” he snapped. “Are you going to actually take charge or do I have to stand here like a prick all day?”

I pointed the cane at his desk. “Bend over, lie flat on your front.”

I scouted the contents of the case. Besides the paddle and cane, there was a skein of bondage rope, a set of handcuffs and a miniature swede flogger.

“That’s not all of it,” he said as he lowered himself onto the desk. “The rest is in a locker outside playroom four.”

“I think this will do for now.” I picked up the handcuffs and tested the key as he stared up at me, his bad attitude still written all over his face.

I threaded the handcuffs around the metal desk leg. “Wrists.”

He offered them out and I cuffed him into position. It was a beautiful stretch for a beautiful body. He was angled diagonally, his perfectly sculpted ass jutting out over the edge of the desk. He grunted as I reached under him to grip his cock. Easy access, what a bonus.

“Spread your legs,” I said.

Every one of his muscles was defined and tense, from the bulge of his calves to the glorious trunks of his thigh muscles.

“Are you going to fucking hit me, or just gawp all fucking day?”

I picked up the paddle. It was solid oak, nice and weighty. Just the quality I’d have expected from Andy Morgan. I ignored his question entirely.

“When did you last use this stuff?”

“Fuck knows. I hardly put it in the calendar,” he sneered.

“You’re not making this any easier for yourself. You know that, right?” I grazed the paddle across his ass cheeks. “I’m going to enjoy this, Andy. I think I may even get a taste for it.”

“You’re getting a little ahead of yourself, don’t you think?”

“We’ll see.” I stood to his side, smiling at the discovery that my knee was perfectly positioned to hook under and slam straight into his cock. I laughed as I demonstrated, applying just a little pressure. “I hope you’re feeling sufficiently vulnerable.”

“You’re wasting time,” he said. “We do have
some
work to do before the day’s over.”

I trailed my fingernails down his spine. “We’ll do whatever I fucking say we’re going to do.”

I pinned him by the neck, forcing his cheek flat to the desk so I could enjoy the seeing pain on his face. I rested the paddle on the small of his back, and slid my thumb along the crack of his ass. I wriggled it when I found his tight little asshole, not enough to penetrate, yet still I felt him flinch. “Scared of a little thumb? Surely not,” I mocked.

“Piss off,” he said. “It’s been a fucking while.”

“You’re in luck,” I said. “I’ll have to fuck your ass another day. Today is all about the pain. You deserve everything you’re going to get.”

He opened his mouth to argue the toss, but grunted instead as the paddle landed. It landed hard, and made one hell of a thwack. His beautiful ass blushed pink.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” he sneered, but his teeth were gritted.

“Better? How about this?”

Rhythmic slaps, back and forth, cheek to cheek, and it felt fucking divine. He’d jump with every slap, at first; the tiniest little jerk as the paddle landed. His breathing quickened, but he didn’t make a sound, eyes closed and lips tight.

At first it was a horny little novelty, a simple pleasure at having won a tiny piece of ground from him, but the solid pulse of the paddle in my grip was intoxicating. It did something to me, something primal and dark. I felt a sizzle of life through my veins, a bloodlust I’d never before tapped, and I found myself grinning.

I hit him with everything I had, raining punishment all over his thighs. He kept it together like a trooper, breath even and face impassive, but for all his best intentions it was only a matter of time. When he finally let out the first pained yelp, it was sweet music to my wanting pussy.

“Yes,” I hissed. “The mighty Andy Morgan, hurting like my little bitch. You ought to see the state of your fucking ass, Andy. It’s fucking beautiful.”

“Fuck you,” he spat. “Is that all you’ve got? I could take this all fucking night long.”

The jerk of his body as I picked up pace told me otherwise. I whacked his ass every which fucking way until my arm ached and Andy was panting.

“You think you can lord it around like the big fucking I am, and I’m just going to shut my pretty mouth and play nice? I’m not your fucking servant, Andy. I do what
I
fucking want. Things are going to change around here, partner.”

The flesh of his ass cheeks was rigid, hardening into welts under the skin.

“Does it hurt, pretty boy?” I said. “Tell me how it fucking feels.”

“No,” he lied.

“No?!” I reached for the cane, and swished it before his eyes. “You want more? Is that what you’re fucking telling me?” I tapped the cane on his shoulder blades and he winced at that.

Bravado is such a bitch. The stupid, proud asshole just couldn’t bring himself to give in.

“You’ll have to try harder to break me, Faye, you’re not even fucking close.”

I ran the tip of the cane down his back. “Why do you have to push it so far?” I whispered. “Am I really so unforgivable?”

I raised the cane high, aiming right for the heart of his bruised flesh, and brought it down so hard it stung my hand. The chain rattled as he strained in his cuffs, and his legs buckled, shaking. I didn’t give him chance to recover before I landed another. It was savage and cruel, but I didn’t fucking care. I wanted him to hurt. I wanted to hear his pain. I wanted to see him squirm and twitch and writhe for me. I wanted him to beg. I swung the cane and hit him again.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “You sadistic fucking bitch, Faye.”

“Tell me how it fucking hurts, pretty boy.” I landed a fourth strike diagonally across the first three, and ridged welts turned purple as pooled blood threatened to break through, and Christ it looked delicious. “Tell me how much it hurts! Tell me!”

His whole body leapt forward at the fifth strike. The cane drew blood, just a little, but enough to give me tingles in the pit of my stomach. I clenched my thighs, and my pussy throbbed so hard it fucking ached. “Fuck yes, you’re fucking bleeding, pretty boy,” I groaned and squeezed his skin, coaxing every drop from the welt. He let out a gasp as my tongue swept over the wound. “Your blood takes so fucking sweet,” I said. “Tell me how much it hurts, or I’m going in for seconds.”

He remained silent. Not even a fucking groan of pain to ease the fire in my belly.

I reached under him and grabbed hold of his cock. Despite the pain he was almost fully hard, swelling in my grip as I yanked him.

“Why won’t you give me a fucking break?” I asked “I jumped through every fucking hoop you threw at me… without hesitation, without question. I put myself on the fucking line for you, Andy, to make up for what I did.”

“My heart fucking bleeds for you,” he said. “You want a fucking medal for doing the fucking banking? Hit me, Faye, just fucking hit me and shut your stupid fucking mouth.”

I threw the cane aside and took the strap from the case. “One of us is going to break first,” I said, trailing the leather over his battered skin. “Just tell me it hurts, and I’ll fucking stop, Andy.”

I leaned over him, my body pressed to his back to hold him in position. It was perfect leverage, the perfect angle to hit him hard.

I didn’t count how many he took. I didn’t even care. There was only the thrill of his body beneath me, a thrill that made my clit throb ever so sweetly. I rested my cheek against his clammy shoulder, soaking up his pain as he grunted and jerked beneath me.

“Tell me it hurts, pretty boy,” I whispered. “Tell me you’re fucking sorry.”

He didn’t utter a word, letting out only a long low growl as the strap curled around his thigh.

“I spent three years of my life kneeling before a man who wouldn’t bend for me,” I breathed. “Don’t think I’m about to do the same again. I left that weak pathetic Faye in Italy, Andy, and no matter how hard you fucking push me she’s never coming back. I’m not going to break for a man who won’t show me the same courtesy, not ever fucking again.”

I dropped the strap and caught my breath, my chest rising in unison with his underneath me and I felt so fucking horny.

“I’m done,” I said. “Done with your shit, done with
his
shit, done with everything. I’m here for my fifty, and I’m not going anywhere. You’ll have to fucking deal with it.”

“This isn’t even fucking about me, is it? What the hell happened to you out there, Faye? What’s with the crazy fucking bloodlust?” He strained his head to meet my eyes. “I think it’s about time you started fucking talking.”

“You’re in no position to tell me what it’s time for.” He flinched as I ran my fingers across the welts on his ass. “I like you like this, you know. We could work like this.”

“Don’t count on that,” he snapped. “This isn’t how I fucking play.”

“So you keep saying,” I whispered. “But look at where we are. Look at where we’ve ended up. Maybe this could be our way, Andy. If only you could see how beautiful you are like this, it really does suit you.”

“Are you fucking done?” he said, pulling at the chain.

I let out a low laugh. “Not even fucking close.”

I got to my feet, stepping away for a clearer vantage point. My fucking God, he was magnificent. The muscles in his shoulders were tight from the strain of holding position, but his legs had all but given up the ghost. His thighs were twitchy and veined with adrenaline, a fight or flight reaction that had no-fucking-where to go. He was far from broken, and so fucking far from submissive that the very idea itself was laughable, but fuck was he hot like this. He deserved it. He fucking deserved all of it.

His thighs were criss-crossed red on pink, and his ass was purpling nicely. The cut was still open, dribbling a line of blood down his battered skin. Fucking gorgeous. I took a deep breath and positioned myself between his legs, running my hands up over the welted flesh to follow the glorious curve of his hips as it dipped into his waist.

“I’d love to fuck you like this, pretty boy,” I said. “Grease up a nice big fucking dildo and plough your ass so deep you’d cry like a baby.” I thrust my crotch against his bruises, and he cursed expletives under his breath. “I could take it slow if you asked nicely,” I said grinding into him. “It could feel so fucking good if you let it. All you have to do is break for me.”

He twisted his neck to glare daggers at me over his shoulder. “No fucking chance, Faye. I’m no fucking submissive. Get on with what you’re fucking doing, or let me out of these fucking cuffs.”

“Spoilsport.” I dropped to my knees and spread him wide enough to see the dirty little ring of his asshole. He clenched tight before my eyes, and I smiled to myself. “Just a taste, then,” I whispered. “I bet you taste so fucking good.”

He groaned as my tongue found the spot. I dug at him, squirming my way just inside the tight ring of muscle. He wouldn’t let me in far, but it didn’t matter. He was bound and sore and vulnerable, and fucking delicious.

“More,” I murmured. “Open up for me, pretty boy.”

“No,” he hissed. “If you want to play anal we’ll do it the other way around. Let me out and
I’ll
show
you
how fucking good it can feel.”

“Nice try,” I laughed. “But not today, Andy. Not fucking today. In fact, I could keep you here all week, couldn’t I? As long as I fed you, and you had a bucket to shit in. I’d even clean your peachy little arsehole for you, my darling.”

“Stop being fucking stupid and get on with it. You’re fucking boring me.”

“Boring? Moi? Tut fucking tut, pretty boy.” I peppered his skin with soft kisses, loving how the ridged flesh felt against my lips. “I want to see you bleed,” I whispered, no longer sure if I was talking to him or myself. I slid my fingers between my legs, and my clit was so tender it sent wonderful sparks dancing down my thighs. Lust was a heady swirl behind my eyes, demanding more. I picked out a particularly raised welt on his ass, at the juncture of several well placed cane stripes. The purpling was so pronounced, so close to breaking through. It would take just a little coaxing, a little more beautiful pain. I clamped my mouth onto the sweet spot and sucked and his legs came back to life, straightening out as he registered what I was doing. I slipped a hand under to his cock, and he calmed as I worked it, long slow jerks of pleasure to counteract the pain. I opened wide, sucking tender flesh into my mouth, and he groaned, how he fucking groaned. I heard his first proper wail as I bit down, a genuine cry that set my clit on fucking fire. I pulled away with puffy lips, and the result was perfection. My teeth marks pooled with blood, my smudged lipstick framed them like a work of art. “That will last more than a fucking week,” I said.