Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Andy

Infuriating and ridiculous, this thing was fucking insane. This thing was a firework about to explode in my face, and send my whole bastard business up in flames along with it. I should have put a stop to it, drawn a line, the sensible line. But it was her, Faye Devere, queen of getting under your skin and staying there, and as much as I hated it, as much as I wanted to tell her to piss off and actually mean it, as much as I wanted to ship her back off to Italy and resume normal life without stupid games and complications, I was still reaching for her hand. Still leading her, wide-eyed, with that temping little smirk on her face, from her bedroom, my guestroom, into my actual bed. The threshold was more than a doorway, it was a whole other level of involved, and she knew it. She paused before crossing, hanging back at arm’s length with a cocky eyebrow raised on that pretty, devious face of hers.

“Whoa,” she said. “What’s this?”

“What does it look like?”

She dug her heels in, just enough that her pretty tits bounced. “We’re doing this?”

I yanked her forwards. “Apparently so.”

She slammed into my body, and her arms folded around my neck. Her lips were smiling as they met mine, and my hands were all over her, coming to rest against her face as I walked us backwards towards my bed. She broke off the kiss with a filthy giggle, then did a twirl, taking in the room.

“Nice,” she said. “Very… masculine.”

I shrugged. “If you say so.”

I followed her eyes as they wandered. Grey walls, with deep charcoal drapes, tasteful without fuss. My beside cabinets were more cluttered than I’d have liked, too much insight for Faye’s greedy, inquisitive mind. Business cards, and a pile of old photos, keys and business notes. She soaked it in and turned her attention to the bed. It was considerably bigger than hers, a tumble of heavy white bedding that I’d vacated in a hurry. My dressing gown was in a crumpled heap at the foot, not that I ever used the thing. Not before I had a guest in the house. Needs must. Only now there were no needs, we’d well and truly crossed that fucking line. She nodded her head as the full scale of the mirrored wardrobes became apparent.

“I see…”

“You will see, that’s the point.”

“Call him Mr Vain.”

“Call him Mr likes to see who he’s fucking from any angle he chooses.” I was bluffing. They’d been installed post Faye departing for Italy, post the wane of my appetite for random submissive pussy, but she didn’t need to know that. I unhooked a selection of shirts I’d put up for ironing, casting them aside to free the entire scope of the mirrors, then I watched her reflection and Faye watched me watching her. She dipped her head, looking up through mischievous eyes, and her posture shifted, heavy on one hip, the curve of her waist accentuated and beautiful. She ran a hand down the slope of her body as I watched, brushing over her hip to the toned flesh of her thighs, and then up again, dipping her fingers between her legs. I swallowed. “Well well, Faye. Here we are.”

“Chapter one,” she whispered.

“Chapter one.” I positioned myself on the foot of the bed, sitting comfortably, with my feet firmly on the floor and my cock firmly in my hand. “Come here,” I beckoned her towards me. “On my lap.”

“Is that an order?”

“You could see it that way.”

She tilted her head and there was that mischief again, always pushing it. “I thought we left the coin toss in the club?”

“This isn’t about the coin toss,” I said. “It’s about you doing what you’re bloody told. You want to do what you’re told, Faye, cut the bullshit. Just get on my fucking lap and stop your whining.”

She laughed. “Ever the charmer.”

“Ever the realist.”

For once she did as she was told. Her eyes were glued to her reflection as she backed up towards me. She was stunning in the lamplight, her skin glowing in soft amber, the shadows of her body so fucking tempting. She sat down and wriggled, my cock hard against her ass, then made to shift herself to take me, but I wrapped my arms around her waist, holding her in position.

“Patience,” I said. “This is chapter fucking one, Faye, we haven’t even started.”

“What, then?” she whispered, and she was aching to be dominated, I could feel it in every horny ripple of her body. “What are you going to do to me?”

One of my hands moved up to her throat, and I watched her eyes in the mirror as they fluttered and closed. She yielded to the pressure, resting her head back against my shoulder without fight. I spread her legs with my other hand, hooking her knees over mine, the heat of her thighs burning mine. I cupped the gorgeous mound of her pussy, slipping my fingers between her rings. There was a whole fucking story there, I just knew it.

“You pissed me off today,” I growled. “Blabbing away with that loose tongue of yours, you want to keep your pretty mouth closed, Faye, or I’ll have to make sure it’s filled with something to my taste.”

“You piss me off every day,” she hissed.

“Is that so?”

She nodded, but she was squirming. I felt her swallow, her soft throat so delicate against my palm. “Punish me,” she whispered. “Not for the coin toss, just because you want to.”

I teased her clit with my fingers, just the slightest touch. “Hands on your thighs, don’t you dare move them.”

She did as she was told, and took a deep breath, resting her cheek against mine.

“Fucking hell, Faye, you’re perfect like this. Why can’t you be like this more often?”

My question was rhetorical, and there wouldn’t have been opportunity to respond if she’d wanted to. I landed my palm hard, right between her legs, and how delicious her pussy felt, so soft and so fucking vulnerable. She jerked but didn’t fight it, and subtly shifted, opening herself wider.

“Yes…” she breathed. “Hurt me there…I want it…”

“That makes two of us.” I landed another, cupping her after the sting, and massaging her soft pussy lips until she relaxed. “Isn’t it nice to be on the same fucking page for once?”

Her eyes opened and fixed on mine in the mirror. It was a beautiful moment, exquisite and charged and insane. I slapped her again, hard, over and over again, keeping a steady rhythm until her fingers were clenched around her thighs. She began to jerk, and her face showed her pain, the softest moans escaping her mouth. I tipped her face to mine, landed a kiss on her open mouth as my palm struck, and my cock pulsed as I felt her moan.

I pushed two fingers inside her, and she shuddered, her body rippling as the endorphins flooded.

“How does it feel?”

“Good…” she whispered. “It feels nice… it burns…”

I worked my fingers inside her until I felt her body relax, and then I withdrew them and resumed her punishment. The slap of palm against wet pussy was the stuff of fucking dreams. She was horny, and every smack sent her reeling, wriggling, twitching against me.

“Look at your sweet cunt, Faye, see how beautiful it is.”

Her pussy was pink and swollen, tender and vulnerable. “More,” she hissed. “Fuck, Andy, hurt me some more…”

“Good girl.” I pressed my lips to her temple. “I want you to watch this. I want you to see everything.”

She nodded and her eyes were wide but glazed, fixed on my hand as I rubbed her hard little clit. She braced herself, her back arched against my chest. “Hit me,” she said. “Hit me, Andy, just fucking hit me.”

I unleashed it all, every frustration at her smart fucking tongue, all the humiliation at her crazy little games, and then there was more, so much more. Her dismissive emails, months of nothing but thanks, Andy, kiss kiss kiss as I waited for her to come home. Come home to our fucking club, come home to me. Fuck, how I punished her pussy, and she took it, she took all of it. Her breath turned ragged, and her thighs started shaking, but she took it. My palm was tingling, and her cunt was hot and sore, beautifully pink, and flushed from the pain.

“Oh God,” she breathed. “Oh God, it hurts.”

I spread her lips, pinching her clit and rolling it between my fingers. “You’re so wet, Faye, you dirty little bitch.”

“Please…” she said, and I don’t think she even knew what she was asking for.

When I slapped her again she yelped and lurched forwards, holding her breath as I eased her back. My hand pressed to her throat. “Stay still.”

She nodded, but lurched again as the next landed, circling her hips until the pain subsided. I slapped her until she squealed and closed her thighs, only to kiss her neck until she opened back up for me. Over and over and fucking over, and my cock was straining to let go against her ass and my own breath was raw and raspy. I slapped her pretty tits, and my breath caught at the sight. The mirror was a wonder, a beautiful fucking wonder. It captured everything, every dirty little fucking thing. I pulled at her nipples until she screwed her eyes shut, and I slapped those beautiful tits until they were marked with my handprints. I wanted to mark her, I wanted me on her, I wanted her body tainted with mine, branded permanently with my own dirty fucking need for this reckless, frivolous, delicate fucking creature.

And that’s when I knew. The fucking rings. Of course I knew, I’d known it all the time.

“He put those rings there, didn’t he?”

Her eyes flew open, her breathing ragged. “I … I don’t want to talk about it.”

I twisted her nipple. “Come on, Faye, just say it.”

“No,” she hissed, and I slapped her pussy until tears sprung.

“I’ve had enough of these dirty fucking secrets.”

“Like you haven’t got any of your own,” she breathed. “I know you have secrets, Andy. You’re no better than me.”

She was right, of course. So right that the room was charged with it. I reverted to my questioning without so much as a flinch.

“Did you want him to do it? Did you ask him to pierce your dirty little cunt, Faye? Did you beg him for it?”

She tensed as if I’d put a current through her, but I didn’t let her go. I was a lot stronger than her, and I held her tight to me, my fingers already working their way inside her.

“I didn’t beg,” she rasped. “I cried.”

“Because it hurt? It must have fucking hurt.”

“Because I was scared…”

Her words slapped me, and some dark fucking monster uncurled in my gut. My body softened, my grip on her loosening as I sought out her clit and played nice. “It’s ok,” I said. “Relax. It’s alright, Faye, just relax.”

She did relax, slowly, pressing herself back against me, temple to temple. Her eyes wouldn’t meet mine in the mirror, they were hooded and low, her breath short as my fingers worked her clit.

“It was his idea,” she said. “He wanted it.”

“Did you want it?”

The softest shrug. “I wanted what he wanted.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“It wouldn’t have made any difference. He always got what he wanted, that’s how it worked.”

“That’s not how it should have worked, Faye.”

She smiled, and it was bitter. “You can talk.”

“I’ve still got your teeth marks on my ass,” I said. “I think I can talk, actually.”

She breathed, then moaned as I picked up the pace around her clit. “I didn’t like his friends. Two of them, they were always around. Cynthia and Richard. Cynthia was an evil fucking bitch.”

“Go on…” I encouraged.

“It was Vincent’s idea but Cynthia pushed it. Said she’d done a piercing course, had all the stuff.”

“Had she?”

She shrugged again. “I don’t know.”

“And you let her?”

“I let him.” She lolled her head back, squirming her hips. “I’m scared of needles. Like really scared.”

“He knew that?”

“He knew. That’s why it was such a big deal. That’s why she pushed it so hard.”

I wrapped my arm around her, across her breasts. “Tell me.”

“They were drunk on Prosecco, so was I. Cynthia brought out the piercing kit, the needles and the rings, and I freaked out like a baby. It wasn’t my finest hour, Andy. It was embarrassing.”

I battled the rage, focussed on her soft, sweet pussy against my fingers. “What happened?”

“They called me a baby, of course. Laughed at me. Vincent told me to stop disobeying, gave me all the give yourself to me, pretty bird, be my beautiful magpie shit.”

“And you did?”

“I cried, and I lay down after they talked me into it for ages on end, then freaked out and started shaking. But good old Cynthia had it covered. She took my wrists, sat on them, told me to stop being a spoiled little brat.”

“What did Vincent do?” I fought to keep my voice calm.

She let out a low laugh, a horrible sound. “He pinned my thighs with his knees, held me steady with his weight. I couldn’t have squirmed out of there if I’d have tried, and I did try, believe me.”

“And he pierced you?”

“No. Not then. That would have been too barbaric, even for Vincent.” She sighed. “He tutted, and disapproved, and said I was giving into fear, and true submission means fronting up to whatever scares us. He was a convincing talker, as you might expect.”

“He’s a sick fuck,” I snarled, then forced it back. I stilled my fingers. “Do you want me to stop? I can stop.”

She shook her head. “No… please don’t…” She whimpered as I pinched her clit, then arched her back as I resumed my rhythm. “He made me tell him that I wanted it.”

“So you told him?”

“Yes, I told him. I was shaking, and I felt sick, and I had tears all down my face, but I told him, and part of me even believed it.”

“And he did it?”

“He asked Cynthia how to do it. They rubbed me down with alcohol, and pinched me with forceps until I squealed. Cynthia said it was easy, that it should be fast and clean, one thick needle straight through.”

“Vincent did it?”

“He was about to, and then I could hear it in her voice, this nasty little giggle. She said it should be fast, unless he wanted to make it slow. Slow and sweet, she said, a beautiful pain for his beautiful bird. Oh God, Andy, I was terrified.”

“Jesus, Faye.” My fingers stopped moving until she wriggled against them.

“Please don’t stop.”

“Sorry.”

“He made it slow, really slow, and it hurt. It hurt really bad, even worse than I’d expected. He pushed it through so slowly that I howled, and I cried until I choked, and again they called me a baby. Putting the ring in was easy, it was the needle that hurt. He was so pleased with himself. Beautiful, he said, how beautiful you look, my perfect bird.”

“And then?”

“And then he did the other.”

A tear spilled, just one lonely tear, and it twisted me up. I held her so tight, and her hands moved from her thighs, back around my waist, and she pressed her face to my neck, and it was so fucking intimate that I could hardly fucking breathe.

“Listen to me. I will never, ever let someone hurt you like that again, Faye, I swear to fucking God. If Vincent Blackthorne comes anywhere near you, he’ll fucking regret it.”

She smiled, but shook her head. “You don’t understand,” she said.

And there we were a fucking gain. “Everyone keeps telling me I don’t understand, but I understand it perfectly fucking clearly. He’s a cunt, and you were so into him, so fooled by him, you just couldn’t see it.”

“Maybe.”

“Definitely.”

“I liked it,” she whispered. “It makes me feel sick, but I liked it, afterwards, I mean. He made it feel beautiful afterwards. He was so proud.”

“I’ll fucking bet he was.”

Her eyes were glistening with tears. “I promise you, he was. It’s hard to appreciate, I know, but loving him was intense, and mostly it was beautiful.”

“So why are you here? If it was so beautiful? What did he do to you, Faye?” I went in for the kill, but her sharing streak was done. She stiffened, and moved her hand down to grip my wrist.

“Make me come,” she hissed. “Please.”

Her grip was demanding, needy.

“I’ll make you come,” I said, and it took all of the strength in me not to give in to the beast and lose my shit, not to grab her fucking phone and call that fucking cunt and tear him a new fucking asshole. No, I wouldn’t phone him, I’d find him. I’d find the sick, twisted sack of shit and I’d show him what I thought of him. I’d give him exactly what was coming to him for everything he’d done to her, taken from her, taken from us.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please, Andy, make me come.”

I was back with her, back in the room, forcing the venom away where she couldn’t see it. I lifted myself from the bed, taking her with me. So naturally she dropped her feet to the floor and turned to me, so naturally I held her and kissed her pretty mouth before I lowered her back onto the mattress. I pushed her thighs apart, and knelt between them, and she didn’t utter a sound as I pulled those filthy silver rings apart, so gently but so firmly, with my teeth gritted and my hackles raised.

I took her hand and pulled her to her feet, and I marched her out of there, straight to the bathroom where I lifted the toilet lid and dropped those rings in her open palm. She looked at me and her eyes were glistening, heavy with secrets and pain in a way that choked the air out of me.

She dropped them into the toilet without hesitation, without a word, without so much as a sound, and I pressed the flush and sent those seedy little rings right where they belonged. We stood watching the water take them away, her head against my shoulder and my arms around her waist and there were no words needed. No words that would have cut it.

She was deep in thought when I coaxed her back to bed, following meekly with dainty little steps. I pulled back the bedcovers and welcomed her inside, and then I made her come, as promised.

It was slow and tender, my mouth guiding her to orgasm with absolute concentration, absolute care, and when she crested it was beautiful, her fingers against my scalp, kneading but not demanding, her pussy fluttering, wet against my tongue in a way that knocked my senses. She came hard but quietly, a sweet expulsion of moans as her hips rose from the bed, and then she was spent, loose-limbed with ragged breath, her fingers tickling my scalp as I kissed my way down her thigh.

My cock was hard, but I ignored it completely, climbing alongside her and holding her close, my legs hooked around hers, my arm around her waist. She wriggled back against me, and she sighed, wrapping herself so totally in my arms that my face was pressed to her hair, and her breath was hot on my skin.

And then she went to sleep.

But I didn’t.

I didn’t sleep a fucking wink.

***

Faye was quiet the next morning. We both were.

We ate breakfast in silence and headed over to the club earlier than usual. She chewed her nails as we crawled through traffic, and my knuckles were white on the steering wheel, but at least I had an excuse.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she said, but her eyes didn’t leave the road ahead.

“Not really. Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head. “It’s over. With Vincent, I mean. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“And what about us, Faye? Do you want to talk about that?”

“Not really, Andy, no. Not now.”

“Fine.”

I’d have pushed it if I hadn’t been so preoccupied, but my blood was still boiling, threatening to lash out at anyone that crossed my path. I opened up the club and gathered the mail, and Faye darted about the place doing a cleaning inspection as I took up my seat in the office.

I knew exactly what I was going for as I fired up my laptop.

Vincent cunting Blackthorne’s fucking website.

It was easy enough to find what I was seeking. His website had a tab just for the purpose: Events.

I clicked on it.

Fucking bingo!

The vain cunt had loaded up his schedule to the max, signing after signing in bookshops all around London. Today he was in Leicester Square, signing at one of the major chains from two until four. I had plenty of time. I closed the page as Faye joined me, and she seemed none the wiser. I sorted the banking from the pile of envelopes and handed them over, and she didn’t raise an eyebrow, just got to work as I sifted through the rest.

I processed membership applications, but my attention wasn’t really on them, it was on her.

“What?” she asked, eventually. “It’s not like you to be lost for words.”

“Nothing.” I turned my chair towards her. “Are you alright, Faye? After last night, I mean.” I paused. “And everything.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “It was nice.” Her eyes pierced mine, and they were frostier than I’d have liked. “Don’t think this changes anything, Andy. I still want what I want. One night of cuddles doesn’t mean I’m your lapdog.”

“Did I even suggest it fucking did?”

“No,” she said. “But I know you. You can’t help yourself.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.” She lightened her words with a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s only reaffirmed what I already knew.”

“Which is?”

“I want equality. I’m not going to settle for anything less. Not again. Not ever.”

I sighed. “Fine, Faye. Whatever you say. We’ll talk about it when we get home.”

Home? Did I just say that?

“Yes, we will.”

Her smile told me she’d noticed, too.

I waited until Topaz was in before I made my exit. Faye was helping her out with preparations for the big birthday celebration and I strode through the bar with as little fanfare as possible. I nearly made it to the door before I was collared.

“Going out?” Faye asked, like it wasn’t fucking obvious.

“I’m meeting a supplier, negotiating next quarter’s prices.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you think I should be involved?”

I didn’t have time for her bloody outrage, so I shifted to cunt mode, easily and effortlessly. “Organise it for your week, Faye, if you want to play the big I am. This is my week, remember?”

“You’re ridiculous,” she snapped, but it did the job, she skulked off to Topaz with a scowl and the two of them began their gossiping. I didn’t even care. I had bigger fish to fry.

***

The bookshop was pissing heaving with Vincent Blackthorne fangirls. More hairspray and lipstick than you could shake a fucking stick at. It drove me to fucking insanity, just being in the pissing queue.

I’m so excited! Oh my God, it’s really him! I love his books, love, love, love them! I can’t believe he’s really here!

Idiots. Gullible, naïve, horny fucking idiots.

It gave me chance to scope out the sack of shit. He was much bigger than I’d anticipated, and older. Much older. The cunt had to be pushing fifty, and his slicked-back hair was peppered with grey. He had a ridiculous little beard, supposedly to look artistic, and his eyes were hungry for tight little pussy. He held onto adoring hands for far too long, practically slavering as his groupies gushed about his trashy fucking novels.

I could hardly bear to watch, but the alternative was worse, huge glossy pictures of that fucking cover, of Faye’s tear-streaked face staring out at me. It fuelled the flames, alright.

Vincent showed me little interest since I was male. He flipped open a paperback and grunted a poor excuse of a welcome.

“Who is this for?” he said, and his accent was thick and overdone and I could have choked the slimy twat right then.

“Make it out to Faye,” I snarled. “You can make it a goodbye note considering you’ll never see her again, you seedy fucking cunt.”

His eyes glinted as he stared up at me and realisation kicked in. “Andy Morgan, club owner extraordinaire. The man who should’ve meant something.” He laughed like a twat. “I’ve been wondering when we should meet.” He put down his pen and crossed his arms. “There will be no goodbye note. My magpie belongs with me, there are no goodbyes for a love like ours.”

I shrugged my shoulders, scouting a look over my shoulder for signs of security. “I’m glad you don’t want to do this the easy way,” I said, then landed a fist straight to the cunt’s jaw. It made one hell of a crack and he went flying, toppling from his little plastic chair and sprawling straight amongst his nasty fucking paperbacks. The queue jumped into life, springing back from the fracas with shrill little squeals, and people were screaming for staff, for security, for the fucking police. My seconds were numbered, but I didn’t give a fuck. I jabbed a finger across the table as he stumbled around on all fours, giving him everything I had to fucking give him.

“This is your final warning, you perverted cunt. You ever come near Faye again and I swear to fucking God you’ll regret the day you ever fucking met her.”

“I will never regret meeting her,” he grunted. “And I know that she’ll regret meeting me even less.”

“Fuck off,” I spat. “I think you’ll find Faye’s no longer the doting little slave girl you moulded her into.”

“I didn’t mould her.” He grinned and I hated him even fucking more, if that was humanly fucking possible. “She wanted it. She likes it. She fucking loves it.” He pressed his fingers to his jaw. “She fucking loves me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, old man. She left you, remember? She walked away from your seedy little games and your seedy little life. Ciao, tosser.”

“A misunderstanding,” he scoffed. “She’ll understand, once we have a moment to connect.”

“There’ll be no fucking moment. Trust me, Vince, you want to be getting back on that fucking plane before I have reason to seek out your seedy cunting face again. Next time I’ll make sure there are no fucking witnesses.”

“You do not understand a love like ours,” he smirked, and I was sick of hearing it, so fucking sick to death of it.

“I understand just fucking fine. You’re a cunt. She’s over it. Fly home, forget about her. Find some other trusting cunt to stick needles into.”

I could see movement from the corner of my eye, staff were gathering, waiting for backup. I should be getting out of there. I needed to get the hell out of there.

“I will never forget about her,” he snarled, and his eyes were vicious, like a rabid fucking dog’s. “I know all about you, Andrew Morgan. I know all about your little business dealings, and I know all about Club Explicit. And my pretty bird will know it, too, believe me. She’ll be back into my arms before you know it, you cannot stop destiny and you cannot stop true love.”

His words fucking chilled me, prickled the back of my neck with a dread I’d been trying to ignore.

“Shut your stupid cunting mouth,” I snapped. “You know nothing about me.”

“Oh, but I do,” he laughed. “I know so much.”

Two men came down the stairs and my time was definitely up. “Go back to Italy,” I snarled. “I fucking mean it.”

I was out of there and on the fucking tube before they could stop me, and it was only then that I realised how hard I’d fucking hit the asshole. My knuckles were fucking killing me.

***

Faye followed me through to the office with angry steps. She slammed the door behind us and faced me off.

“Where did you go?” she snapped. “Topaz says the reps come to us, always, she says they aren’t due for another month.”

“Topaz can watch her loose fucking mouth,” I hissed. “And you can stop digging around my business. I went where I went, end fucking of.”

She closed the distance, and I winced as she yanked my bruised hand into view. Her colour drained, eyes wide.

“You saw him, didn’t you? Oh my God, you went to him.” She covered her mouth with her hands, thoroughly fucking mortified.

“So what if I did? The cunt had it coming, he won’t be bothering you now, Faye, not if the wanker’s got any sense.”

“You think that will stop him? Punching him in the face isn’t going to stop him, Andy. You don’t know him.”

“I’m not sure about that,” I said. “I hit him pretty fucking hard.” I shook my hand out, and the knuckles were puffed up nicely. “He’s a stupid old prick. I was expecting more.”

“It’s not about how he looks. It’s about how he is.”

“How he is, is a stupid cunt with a sore fucking jaw. How he is, if he’s got any pissing sense, is on priority flight number get the fuck lost back to Venice.”

I saw something flash in her eyes, something slightly less hostile. “I’ve never seen you like this,” she said.

“Like what? Angry? You’ve seen me angry plenty of times, Faye.”

“Not so… caveman. Did you thump your chest like King Kong?”

“So you think it’s funny now, do you? Make up your fucking mind.”

“I’m just surprised.”

“Yes, well, maybe you shouldn’t be.”

“Maybe.” She smiled. “Thank you, it’s sweet, but I think you’ll be disappointed. He won’t be going anywhere, not just because you thumped him in the face.”

“Sweet? Is that what you think this is?” I scoffed. “It wasn’t pissing sweet, Faye, I would have torn his spleen out if the place hadn’t been packed out with wannabe slave girls.”

“Well, let’s be thankful they were there, then,” she smirked. “I could do without bailing you out of prison on assault charges.”

“Murder charges, Faye. I hope you’ve got some cash stashed,” I said. “Would’ve solved our little power crisis, at least. Vincent without a spleen, me locked up behind bars.” I managed a laugh. “You probably still wouldn’t have managed to get the banking done on fucking time.” I gestured to the pile on her desk.

“Alright, smart arse.” She slapped my back and pulled my chair out from my desk. “Let’s get you a bloody ice pack, and I’ll go and do the bloody banking.”

***

I left my bedroom door open, and she dithered in the corridor. We still hadn’t spoken, not really, and it was getting too tense for comfort. Too fucking tense for peace. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my reflection, I looked exhausted and felt it, too.

“Yes,” I said. “It’s left open for you. You can come in.”

“And this is how it is now?” she quizzed. “We kiss and cuddle, you thump Vincent, and now I sleep in your bedroom?”

“Is that so fucking bad?”

“Is that still the let me be in charge tone I hear in your voice? I think it is.”

“Why fight it?”

“Because I want more.” She folded her arms and sighed, and I used the moment to beckon her closer. She walked over, and fell onto my lap without protest, but her expression was still petulant.

I rested my chin on her shoulder, eyes hard on hers in the mirror. “We’re good like this, Faye.”

“Yes, we are.”

“So, what’s wrong with this picture? Why is this not enough?”

She turned around, until her eyes were on mine and not on the reflection. She adjusted herself, straddling me the opposite way around, her long legs wrapping around my waist, her breath so fucking sweet against my lips. “Because I want more,” she whispered. “I want everything.”

“Why?” I sighed. “Why do you have to have everything? Why does it have to be such a fucking battle?”

She shrugged and her eyes were honest, so honest. “I want to be worth it. I want to be worth everything.”

My stomach twisted, a horrible feeling. And there was something strange beneath it, something unfamiliar. Need. Vulnerability. Some other sappy bullshit. If I could’ve doused it in petrol and set it alight, I would have, but she was in me, right the way through me, her siren fingers reaching out to steal my fucking soul.

Things were getting crazy, spiralling out of control and I didn’t have the first fucking clue how to stop them, or if I wanted to. I didn’t know how to go with the flow, either. Basically, I knew fucking shit, and it was uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable.

“I don’t know how to give everything. I don’t even know what that means, Faye.”

Her smile was dirty and absolutely fucking delicious. “I want to fuck you,” she said, simply. “I want to take you the way you take me.”

“You actually want to fuck me? For fucking real? Jesus Christ.”

She nodded. “That’s exactly what I want. I want you on your knees, I want you to look at me the way I look at you. I want you to look at me the way I looked at Vince, like I’m everything. Everything, Andy, like the world begins and ends with me. That’s what I want. That’s what I need.”

“You don’t want fucking much, then?” I shook my head. “I don’t think I can do that, Faye. It isn’t who I am.”

“You don’t think you can do it. You don’t know. You’ve been sub before, I know you have. You’re the one with the coin.”

I sighed. “A long fucking time ago, and I was never really submissive. You know exactly what I’m like, I was no different then. It was just a game.”

“I want to mean everything,” she whispered, and her fingers trailed my cheek. “If that’s not who you are, then it’s not who you are, but it’s what I need.”

“No compromise? Your way or the fucking highway? Is that it?” I scoffed. “Jesus Christ, do you have to be so… difficult?”

“I can’t be any other way,” she grinned. “It isn’t who I am.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Ok, then, Miss fucking Everything. Maybe if we both try we’ll meet somewhere in the middle, how about that for a novelty?”

She tilted her head from side to side. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I want what I want,” she said. “It’s up to you if you can give it to me.” She pushed me onto my back, and fell forwards with me, and her delicious mouth was on mine, her hands snaking down my chest. She sat upright, guiding my hands to her tits, and rocked there, like some kind of horny fucking cowgirl. “So, how about this middle ground?” she smiled. “I think it’s time you put your money where your mouth is, pretty boy.”

***