Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

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?”

I smiled. “That’s exactly what I thought I didn’t want. I just wanted my club back, I wanted to hole up tight with my hands full, and my brain busy, in a place where I had control, and value, and purpose. Where I was strong, and didn’t need an asshole like Vincent Blackmore in my life. Andy was supposed to be a kinky little rebound to take the edge off, nothing else. A value-added bonus.” I met her eyes full on. “Believe it or not, Topaz, I wasn’t exactly drowning in options. This was my life, and then I left it, it was the only real place to run back to. I was supposed to be on top of the world by now, without a shit to give for Vince, or what he’s doing.”

“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted. “Mr Morgan likes you and he’s trying and it’s been three weeks.”

I dug out the handset from my pocket, then opened Vincent’s messages and tossed it over.

I watched her eyes widen as she scrolled through. The ones that morning had been something else, pictures of him all the way across London as he made his way in our direction. And his words, begging, pleading, threatening. Promising everything I’d ever wanted. Our big, grand happily ever after.

And then the final message, the one which had stopped me in my tracks and set off this whole sorry mental spiral in the first place.

You’ve broken me, pretty bird. I’m yours. It’s my turn to kneel at your feet, my beautiful Magpie. I’m going to take you back where you belong, and we shall become as one. Together. You own me. You own my very soul.

“Intense,” she said.

“Lies,” I scoffed. “Most likely, anyway. I don’t think he knows how to kneel any more than Andy does. I should forget about the pair of them and get myself some fucking therapy.”

“If Vincent did kneel for you, would you go back to him?”

“If Vincent had knelt for me when it mattered I’d never have left him. Vincent is complicated, and twisted, and he’s a fucking liar as well, but I loved him. I’d have stayed with him, if he’d just been able to give me what I needed.”

“Which was?”

I smiled. “Humility. Devotion. Submission. Truth. Loyalty. Equality. Real equality.” I sighed. “I want a dominant man who knows when to kneel. A man who leads, but knows when to follow. A man who can punish me, and use me, and make me fall apart for him, but knows how to do the same in return. Only when I need him to, of course. It’s about the sentiment rather than the routine.”

Topaz’s face was a picture. A real picture. “I get that, I just think… I mean… this is all pretty soon… I think you’re trying to conquer the whole of Rome in like half a day, when the Romans weren’t expecting you at their gates at all and are really quite pissed off about it. It’s like they’ve invited you in for tea and biscuits, and you’re throwing the table in the air, demanding steak, no?”

“Ouch,” I said. “Is that how you see it?”

“It doesn’t really matter how I see it.”

“Patience,” I laughed, “has never been one of my virtues. My parents call me Princess Drama. I’m the only one in the family like it. I want everything and I want it now, and if I can’t have it, then nothing else will do. Vincent was the only one who ever tempered that, initiation through fire.”

“I don’t understand,” she said. “It sounds as though you’ve already given up on Mr Morgan, and it’s only been five minutes.”

“He will never hold up to Vincent,” I smiled, sadly. “I’ve been kidding myself. Not like this. Not now. And I don’t want him to, I don’t want to settle for a man who won’t become everything to me. I’d rather just focus on my club, and my own shit, and try and see off Vincent the best I can.”

So much I wanted to say, about the burning humiliation at knowing Andy read those passages, and knowing what would be to come just a week from now. Knowing how ashamed he’d be, how horrified when my filthy dirty secret found the light of day. Knowing how he’d never look at me the same again.

For the love of a man like Andy Morgan I’d have to beg, and kneel, and roll over. Just like I had with Vincent. And I didn’t want that anymore.

I wouldn’t fucking take that anymore.

Not for Vincent, and certainly not for him. They could both go and fuck themselves.

“Maybe he’ll surprise you,” Topaz said, hopefully. “Maybe last night will have triggered something, made him think.”

But, no. It was not meant to be.

No sooner had she spoken than Mr fucking Perfect himself made an appearance. His eyes were intense, simmering hot with the desperate need for business as usual. He dropped a pile of envelopes on the bar without a smile.

“Banking,” he said. “Please get a move on, we’ve already been late enough as it is today.”

I chugged down the rest of the cocktail and slammed the glass on the bar on my way out.

***

Andy

“Jesus Christ, Topaz, has she been Miss Sunshine all pissing morning, or is it just for my benefit?” Big eyes stared over at me, all innocent and fucking gormless. I don’t have time for gormless. “Faye,” I said. “What’s with her frosty fucking demeanour? I’ve been waiting for her to do some actual bloody work since she woke up this morning.” I sniffed at the remnants of the cocktail on the bar. “Seems she had more important things to be doing.”

“She was experimenting,” she said, meekly. “For the birthday night, I think.”

I took another sniff, and then I smiled. “Explicit Explosion, what a blast from the past.”

“Explicit Explosion?”

“It was our first cocktail,” I explained. “An abomination we created after far too many champagne toasts. It lasted all of three weeks on the menu before we wrote it off as a bad idea.” I laughed to myself. “Do you think it’s an encoded message? An insight into the subliminal workings of Faye Devere’s troubled little mind? She’s been back three weeks, hasn’t she? Maybe she’s writing us off as a bad idea. Better than a horse’s head in the bed, at least. How fucking amusing.”

“I think she just wants to get the evening right,” Topaz said. “She’s really bothered about it.”

“Of course she would be,” I sneered. “Her chance in the spotlight, she’s going to milk it for everything it’s worth. Oh look, how wonderful, it’s the lovely Faye, gracing us with her presence.Only three fucking birthdays too bastard late.” I tipped the remnants of the cocktail down the sink. “Other less glamorous priorities, like getting the cheques in the pissing bank, hold little sway with our lovely Faye.”

“I think you should probably give her a break,” she said, and I was so shocked I nearly dropped the glass.

“Excuse me?”

“She’s… having a bad day. I think you should probably be nice.” Her eyes met mine before darting back to the floor. “Or something, whatever, it’s none of my business.”

And that’s when I noticed my sweet little barmaid’s transformation. She crossed her arms across her tight little nipples as I stared, but it was much too late for that. My eyes dropped to her bare legs, noting the temptingly pale slope of her thighs. Her denim shorts weren’t just short, they were practically non-existent, and totally fucking obscene. I stalked over, until I was close enough to tip her face up to mine.

“Is that a fucking invitation? I wouldn’t even need to pull those down to tan your backside. Maybe that’s what you want?” Her breath hitched, and my cock fucking twitched, and the whole thing was a mass of awkward sexual tension that I could have well done without. “Talk,” I said. “I want straight answers, not this cryptic shit. You’d better tell me what you know about Faye’s little hissy fit, and before you even contemplate holding back, you’d do well to remember who pays your wages.”

“I work for both of you,” she sighed, but offered up Faye’s mobile phone regardless.

“That’s quite a breach of confidence,” I snapped, taking the handset like a greedy fucking toddler. “I hope you don’t feel the urge to betray me quite so easily when my back is turned.”

“I’m not betraying, I’m trying to help. Both of you.”

“The purest intentions can lead to the most heinous acts, dear Topaz.”

“So, you don’t want her mobile?” She held out her dainty fingers.

“Jesus fucking wept. Everyone’s so fucking tetchy today.” My mood tumbled at the sight of Vincent fucking Blackthorne’s stream of messages. “Piece of shit,” I snapped. “He’s already in London.”

She nodded. “He won’t let her go, Mr Morgan. He’ll find a way.”

“Well, unless he accosts her on her little dash to the bank and back, he’s fat out of luck. She’s here or she’s at home, my home, with me, and Vincent Blackthorne isn’t fucking welcome.” Rage curled around my spine at his latest squibby fucking declarations of devotion. What a fucking loser. A sick fucking loser. I handed the handset back to Topaz. “Thank you, that was most insightful.”

“Are you not worried?” she asked.

“Worried? About Vincent cunting Blackthorne. He should be the one who’s worried, if he has any sense.”

“I mean about Faye,” she said. “The effect he’ll have on her.”

“He won’t be having any effect on her,” I said. “He won’t be fucking seeing her.”

“He doesn’t need to,” she insisted. “You don’t understand. You haven’t read those books, Mr Morgan, not properly, you don’t get it.”

“So everyone keeps telling me.” I lowered my tone. “I’ve read enough, Topaz. Trust me.”

“You haven’t,” she maintained. “You read the highlights, and they were just the sex bits, not the emotional bits.”

I raised an eyebrow. “They were the bits you kindly deemed worthy enough to highlight for me, are you telling me now that there should have been more?”

For my raised eyebrow she raised both of hers. “You thought those highlights were for you?”

“Of course. I asked for the book, it came with highlights. Thank you very much, A-plus for effort.”

“They weren’t for you,” she whispered. “Sorry.”

Her cheeks flushed, and again my cock twitched. Faye had stirred up a right fucking hornet’s nest with her dirty games. It summed up Faye Devere in a perfect little nutshell. She was ever the inciter, creating mischief and filthy drama wherever she went, and then bailing when the going got a little rough.

“Who the fuck were those highlights for, then? One of your other fucking bosses who wants the lowdown on some seedy pissing Vincent Blackthorne manual?” I rolled my eyes.

“Um… they were… they are…”

“What?” I snapped. “Spit it out. Faye won’t be out all fucking day, Topaz.”

“They were for me,” she said, and her whole face was red.

“For you? You mean…” I smirked as the impact of her dirty little admission dawned. “Those passages were highlighted for you?”

She looked beyond me, fiddling with her lip ring in true Topaz style. “Yes, they were for me.”

She had me stumped for words, the first time she’d ever had me stumped for words. “That’s some dirty shit you’ve got highlighted in there Topaz, you filthy little cow.”

“Yeah, I know.” She shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. It’s up to you what you jill yourself off to every evening.” Oh, the possibilities. I forced them aside with the contempt they should ideally deserve. “So, asides from your horny little scribblings, what do I need to know about that stupid fucking book?”

She busied herself in the fridge to her rear, far too little, far too late. I admired the globes of her ass cheeks, the peachy crack of flesh promising the filthy reward of her puckered virgin ring. How I fucking wished Faye was back from the banking so the dirty bitch could pull another one of her twisted stunts. Maybe I even wanted her to. Maybe I’d even let her tie me up, humour her in her little quest to become the big fucking I am. I pictured Faye teasing Topaz’s thighs apart. Lick her sweet little pussy, pretty boy. Lick her cunt until her she sprays her juices in your filthy fucking mouth.

“Like I said,” Topaz mumbled. “It’s none of my business really.”

“Cut the bullshit.” I pushed the fridge door closed until she had no choice but to look at me. “You know things that I clearly don’t, and that’s not a situation I’m ever comfortable with. Knowledge is power, Topaz, and right now you’re fucking lording it over me.”

“I’m not lording anything!”

“Good, then you won’t mind sharing,” I smiled, then took a seat, indicating the ever-ticking second hand on my watch. “Faye will be back in fifteen minutes,” I said. “You’d better start talking.”

***