Dirty Bad Secrets (16 page)

He slapped my pussy, and the tears sprang.

“You’ll go? Go fucking where, Faye?”

“Anywhere,” I said. “I’ll just go.”

“You’ll run away will you? Turn tail and run because nasty, mean Andy found out all your dirty little secrets?”

Not all of them.

His fingers squeezed my cheeks, gripping my face hard, and he was angry, his eyes were so fucking angry. “Don’t you dare fucking try it. You aren’t going anywhere.”

I turned my face away from him, and let the tears fall. I didn’t even know why I was crying, I didn’t know why it hurt so bad to disappoint him. “Like I said, you wouldn’t understand. You’ll never look at me the same, now.”

“Jesus Christ, Faye, is that what you think? You think this shit changes anything? The only thing it changes is how much I want to ram my fist into that cunt’s twisted fucking face. I’ll tear him apart, Faye, I promise you.”

“He didn’t force me,” I insisted. “I swear he didn’t. I wanted it.”

“Coerced,” he snapped. “Putting it mildly.” He uncuffed my wrists, followed by my ankles, and I pulled my aching limbs up tight to me. “You can like whatever the fuck you like, Faye, we own a fucking sex club, but that guy is a fucking perverted asshole, and I don’t give two fucking shits what you have to say about his beautiful fucking philosophy. The guy’s a cunt.”

“Not always.”

“When it fucking mattered.” He lowered the rail and sat beside me. Solid hands coaxed me towards him, onto my side. “Just pray for his sake he never crosses my fucking path.”

I looked into his eyes and there was a whole playground of emotions there. Anger, and lust, and concern. But not disgust, and not the vaguest glimpse of hatred, not towards me.

It surprised me to see him care. I didn’t think he’d ever care again, not like he used to, not since I’d run away and left him to pick up my shit for three long fucking years. I’d been so stupid, so reckless, and crazy.

“He’s coming,” I admitted. “Vincent’s coming here, for me.”

“He can try it.”

“He
will
try it,” I said, under my breath. We sat in silence for long moments. “Do you still want me?” I whispered. “Like you did before?”

“Before what? Before I read that stupid fucking book?” he sighed. “Faye, look at the fucking state of me. I’m covered in my spit, your spit, fuck knows what else. I fucked a girl earlier that I’d have sworn I’d never have looked at in a million years. I let you choke the shit out of me like some crazy fucking sex demon, and
now
you’re asking me if I’ve still got the fucking horn?”

I smiled. “When you put it like that.” I held out my fingers and he gripped them in his. “I was jealous,” I whispered. “You were right.”

“I know I was right,” he said, ever modest.

“I’ll try to put a lid on it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why would you try not to be jealous? I’m not planning on offering the same courtesy.”

It took a moment for the revelation to dawn. “You’re jealous?”

“Always,” he smiled. “I don’t play well with others, never was much of a sharer. Those fucking books drove me to insanity.”

I contemplated offering him Vince’s
transcend base urges
speech, but decided against it.

“You look surprised,” he said.

I shrugged. “Just didn’t think you’d be jealous. I didn’t think you cared enough. I didn’t even think you wanted me here.”

“Oh, come on, Miss Modesty. Cut the fucking bullshit. You know full well I wanted you here, you’d have been back out the front door in a heartbeat if I’d have seriously wanted you gone.”

“But you don’t want to share the club with me, either, do you?”

“Like I said, I don’t play well with others. I’m trying my best. This doesn’t mean life is peachy. You still walked away, I’m still angry that you did, and this is still my week. Quite a conundrum we’re facing, isn’t it?”

I rested my forehead against his thigh, still aware of the heat of him. “Can we solve this conundrum another day?”

“What else did you have in mind?”

I didn’t need to tell him, and he didn’t hang on to find out. His body was already responding to mine, his lips already parting for my tongue, his hands already travelling where I needed them.

This time there were no shackles on that gurney, no sub and no dom. There was only his body and my body, grinding together as we worked out our differences without words. He lifted my legs high upon his shoulders, and took me like it was a punishment, just how I wanted it. When I came, it was hard and fast, clenching tight enough to pull Andy straight over the edge after me.

We caught our breath slowly, a tangle of limbs on a padded gurney, and as the world woke up around us, we fell asleep where we lay.

And that’s where we stayed until the cleaner barged in at just gone nine that morning.

For once, and to Andy’s great annoyance, we were both late to our desks, but at least we didn’t have far to travel.

***

Faye

Topaz looked different when she arrived for her shift at lunchtime. She had a shimmy in her hips, and her hair was swept up from her face in a way I’d never seen her wear it before. Pink lipstick that matched the dildo I’d made her fuck herself with, and fake lashes with tiny little diamanté gems on them. She’d morphed into a punky little wet dream overnight, a skull print crop top hitched up with safety pins, with no bra underneath to hide her proud little nipples. Cut-off denim shorts barely covered her ass cheeks, and baby pink pumps finished off the ensemble. Quite the transformation. It’s amazing what a good fuck can do for a girl’s confidence.

I slipped the mobile I’d been staring at all morning into my pocket and continued with my cocktail-making experiment. I was adding a shot of vodka to the concoction when she finally noticed me behind the bar.

I couldn’t have held back the smirk if I’d tried. “Twit-twoo,” I said. “Someone got out the right side of bed this morning.”

The cutest little blush splotched her cheeks. “Just threw this on,” she lied. “No big deal.”

“Sure you did.”

She looked me up and down. “Looks like
you
didn’t get out of
any
side of the bed this morning.”

“Sharing a gurney wasn’t the height of comfort, I have to admit. I think we should start stocking emergency supplies of shampoo for the wet room.” I pointed a finger at my excuse for a messy bun. “Hand soap is really no substitute.”

Her eyes twinkled. “Planning on making a habit of it?”

I sniffed my cocktail and pulled a face. Oh, the fumes. “I don’t plan for much these days, Topaz. Life has a habit of becoming a little… unpredictable.”

“You can say that again.” She leaned back against the fridge, and her fingers began their twiddling at her lip ring. “Is Mr Morgan angry with me?”

“He’ll act like it,” I said. Her face dropped, totally nervous and unbelievably cute. “No. He isn’t angry with you, he’ll have the same stick up his arse that he usually has.”

“Is he angry with
you
?” she asked. “Is that why you’re on bar already?”

I shrugged. “He didn’t have chance to put me on bar this morning, I was already in here by the time he’d finished showering.”

“Oh,” she said, and it was heavy with the unspoken.

“Oh?”

She dithered as she formed her response. “Well, I mean… I guess it could be… awkward… are you avoiding him?”

“
Me
avoiding
him
? No.” But I
was
avoiding him. I’d been avoiding him all morning. The harsh reality of the morning after, waking up face to face with someone you’ve blatantly overstepped the boundaries with, who you’ve baked under the spotlight of humiliation for, confessed uncomfortable truths about jealousy, and past lovers, and filthy fantasies that should never see the light of day, and… urgh. It was horrendous. And we
both
felt it, not just me. He’d untangled himself and jumped off that gurney so quickly there wasn’t even time for a
good morning.
I tipped a healthy dose of blackcurrant into the mix. “Maybe I am avoiding him. Just a little.” I turned to face her, resting my elbows on the bar top like this was the most casual conversation in the universe. “So,” I said. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah… I’m cool.”

“Sure about that?”

She looked away from me and smiled. “Yeah, I’m very cool. The whole thing was a bit of a surprise, but I’m good.”

“A surprise?” I raised my eyebrows. “You’ve read all three Magpie books, and that little thing last night came as a surprise to you?”

She blushed, pretty in pink. “I just didn’t expect it. I really didn’t expect you to choose me and I super really didn’t expect to see Mr Morgan as a, um…”

“As a, um?”

“Submissive,” she finished. “I wouldn’t have ever imagined him that way. Not ever.”

I laughed, hard. Hard and way too bitterly. “Mr Morgan is no bloody submissive. He’s just a dom counting down the seconds until it’s his turn in charge. He tolerates, grudgingly. He’s nothing like a submissive. The man couldn’t genuinely kneel if his life depended on it.”

“And that bothers you,” she said, and it wasn’t a question.

I shook my head. “It doesn’t
bother
me, it’s just… frustrating. It’s impossible to have a fifty-fifty relationship with someone who constantly demands a mile and won’t give an inch. Not an inch that they care about, anyway.” The jig in my stomach turned up a notch. “Andy will give an inch, but it’s an inch under duress, and it’s always an inch that doesn’t stretch him any. He’ll give you
that
inch, then make a big deal about it, like you should be grateful.” I sighed. “Fuck it.” I raised the glass to her and sampled my cocktail. It was pretty rancid but it hit the right spot.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“About what?” I said. “Andy? I don’t know what there is to say.”

“I think there’s a lot to say…” Her hands twisted in front of her, and it took me straight back to the night before, her riding his cock, then kissing his sopping wet mouth as I forced her face to his. I was horny and jealous again, all at the same time.

“You like him,” she smiled. “Like
really
like him. Not a crush thing like I have, I mean
really really
. But that bothers you, too, doesn’t it? Why?”

She’d nailed it. Nailed me. “What’s with the x-ray intuition today?” I spun my cocktail glass on the bar top, around and around in tiny little circles. “Yes, I like Andy. I always liked him, but that isn’t why I came back here. I came back for me, for my old life, for my share of the club. Andy was supposed to be a sweet little distraction, not a sweet little fuck-up.”

“And now you’re in deep.” She tipped her pretty little head from side to side. “Maybe he could still be the one who really means something… like you said in the book? Maybe it just wasn’t the right time back then?”

“It was a
better
time back then,” I said. “Before we got all messed up and angry. Before
I
got all messed up and angry. Before we both had a big point to prove. When we could just work together without the constant battle.”

“You used to work together without a battle? I can’t imagine that,” she smiled. “You’re both so… determined.”

“Bull-headed, you mean?”

“No,” her smile widened. “I didn’t mean bull-headed.”

“But if the hat fits?”

“
He
can be a little strong-willed,” she said. “You’re more, I dunno… passionate.”

“Highly strung,” I said. “That’s the term you’re looking for.”

“Maybe,” she laughed.

“Definitely.” I offered her a sample of my drink but she shook her head. “Andy would also add flighty and whimsical.”

“I’ve heard him use those words,” she admitted. “But he likes you. Like really likes you. I just don’t think someone like him knows how to handle someone like you. I don’t think he knows how to back down or kneel at your feet or whatever you want him to do. I’ve been here over two years, and I’ve never seen him come even close to giving way over something, not once, ever. He’s always had it all his own way, and that’s always been ok.”

“You’re making excuses for him. It’s sweet, but unnecessary.”

“Yeah, well,
I
like him, too.” She sucked her lip ring into her mouth and I wondered where her mind was at, if she was there, on his cock, with her cute little tits bouncing for him. “But I know my thing is a crush. He’s my boss, and I like him, even though he’s nasty to me at least eighty percent of the time,” she laughed. “He likes you, Faye. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here. There’s no way you’d be here.”

“You do seem to be forgetting he doesn’t have a choice. I’m a legal director. We’re legally bound together fifty-fifty.”

She shook her head. “Your desk is in the same room as his, and he let you write on his chest in lipstick, he had a choice over those things.”

“You talk like they’re on the same scale of compromise.”

“Aren’t they? I’d never have imagined him letting you back in his office. That’s like the ogre’s domain.”

My cheeks burned at the memory. “I had to resort to physical warfare to get my desk in his office. I simply out-crazied him. As for the lipstick, technically he let me handcuff him to his chair, the rest was dubious consent at best.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” she said. “He looked like he was enjoying himself. I guess you’ll always just have to push him hard for what you want, and sometimes he’ll give in.”

“And that’s just it,” I said, “I don’t
want
to push him hard. I don’t want to out-crazy him, or fight him, or gag him so he can’t talk back. I want him to offer, I want him to give himself to me in the same spirit I give myself to him when
he’s
won the pissing coin toss. I want him to
mean
it. I want to be
equals
.” I was manic and unreasonable, I could see it in Topaz’s cute little button eyes. The twin terrors of rejection and frustration were snapping at my ankles, rearing up in the same way they’d done in Italy whenever Vincent poked me too pissing hard. But in Italy I’d subdued them, hidden them, learned to swallow them down under the threat of Vincent’s twisted
lessons
. Here was different. Here was so different. I didn’t
want
to back down, I wanted to stand tall, and I wanted to
win
. I just wanted to fucking
win.
Win
something
. Win
him.
I wanted
him
to be the one to bend for
me
. Fat fucking chance.

“You’ve been back three weeks,” she whispered. “Do you think maybe you’re being a little harsh?”

Yes
.
Yes, I’m being harsh. I’m being harsh and ridiculous and lashing out at the wrong fucking man.
“It’s the way I feel,” I said. “I’m not apologising for that. Not ever again.”

“I don’t think you should apologise for it, I just think…” she lowered her eyes. “Sorry, this is none of my business.”

“You rode the man’s cock last night while he was cuffed to a gurney with his mouth clamped open, and I was the one who coerced you. Strongly. The boundaries of polite conversation have been safely breached, Topaz. My fucked-up relationship with Andy Morgan is very definitely your business.”

“This isn’t about Mr Morgan, though, is it? Not really.”

“It’s totally about Andy.” I let out a melodramatic sigh. “And maybe just a little about Vincent, too.”

She looked so kind, so sad for me. “It must have been hard to walk away from something like that, I mean, I read those books.”

“I didn’t walk, I ran. Fast. Before I could change my mind.”

“And are you changing your mind?” Doe eyes were so enticing, sucking me in to spill all my secrets, but I didn’t care anymore. I was fat out of friends, and fat out of sounding boards.

“I don’t
want
to change my mind.” My voice had shrivelled to a pathetic rasp. “I don’t
want
to want him. I don’t
want
to go back there. I don’t
want
to believe all his shitty little promises.”

“But you think you will anyway?” Her eyebrows shot up. “He’s coming for you, isn’t he?”

I nodded. “He was always coming. I just figured I’d be ready for it.”

“But you’re not?”

I shook my head. “It was naive, thinking running back here would give me something to hold onto. Somewhere to hide. Like that would ever be enough to protect me from someone like Vincent.”

“But it could be, no? If Mr Morgan meant something? If he was worth holding onto?”

“He means something,” I said. “Just not enough.” I folded my arms across my chest, bracing against some imaginary chill. “Vincent knows me. He’s seen me at my weakest, he’s seen me broken, and delirious, but he’s also seen me scale the heights of sexual experience. He educated me, trained me, used me. He loved me, too, in his own twisted way, and I loved him. I loved him so much I didn’t know how to breathe without him. That’s what a relationship like that does to you, you lose yourself in it, and you don’t even care, not until you realise it’s all been a nasty fucking illusion. I’d love to sink back into our Italian fantasy, it would be so easy, so beautifully easy, if only it was real. But it’s over. It has to be over. I’m just not sure I’ll be strong enough, not when it comes to it. Not when this…
thing
, this crazy, messy, stupid
thing
with Andy Morgan is frying the tiny bit of rational thinking I’ve got left in my skull.”

“I know Mr Morgan is no Master Blake, he’s mean but he’s not twisted, he’s a bull not a poet. But maybe he could be what you need? The thing you hold onto? That’s what you wanted, right? When you came back here?”