“Then why is your cunt so wet for me?” he snarled. “Oh, pretty bird, you are so beautifully fucking wet for me.”
I met his eyes, and I wish I could have burned him. “I’m not wet for you.”
It angered him, and he hurt me, forcing his fingers inside. “Dirty, nasty little shit,” he seethed. “You fucking betrayed me. You took his fucking cock, didn’t you?”
“I love his fucking cock.” I was vicious, incensed, even though I couldn’t fucking move from him. He punished me for it, slamming his fingers in to the knuckles.
And then he noticed. His mouth turned down, eyes wild. “Your rings. Where are your rings?”
“In the fucking sewers where they belong.”
His hand was at my throat, pinching me. “You are punishing me, Magpie, I know. I need to explain myself, I know I do.”
“There’s nothing to explain.” I screwed my eyes tight against the pain between my legs, such familiar pain. “You sold me. You used me. You let them fuck me, not for love, Vincent, not for pride, not for fucking becoming. You let them fuck me for money.”
“You do not understand, Magpie, not yet, but you will. It was my greatest sacrifice, to put a value on my most treasured possession.”
“You let them hurt me for money!”
“I let them set you free, pretty bird. You felt their love, I know you did. You wanted it. You wanted them.”
“I wanted you.” And I was crying. Hot wet tears of regret and shame and pain. “I did it for you.”
“And I did it for you,” he snapped. “You are so ungrateful, Magpie. Didn’t I give you enough? Enough love, enough sex, enough filthy fucking cock? I gave you so much, Magpie, why did you need to come here for more? Why? Fucking why!?” He shook my throat and squeezed my pussy hard.
“You didn’t give me love,” I cried. “You just gave me fucking pain.”
“I gave you liberation!” he yelled. “I gave you all the pleasure the human body can stand!” He gripped my breast, twisted hard.
“I don’t want this,” I hissed. “Whatever you do to me now, I don’t want it.”
“It was a terrible betrayal to take out your rings, pretty bird, but don’t worry. I’ll give you new ones. I’ll give you ten, twenty, I’ll pierce your dirty cunt so many times that there’s no way you could ever take them all out. I know how much you liked it. I’ll get Cynthia to help, and she’ll make it slow, sweet girl, so slow, so fucking painful. Just how you fucking like it you filthy little slut.”
His thumb was on my clit, his fingers twisting deep, and he knew me, he knew me enough that my body responded to him. “No,” I said. “Please stop.”
“You want it. You want the love, you want the pain. Your body wants me.”
“No.”
“It always wanted me, pretty bird. All those times you hurt until you cried, and all those times I made it better for you.”
“You didn’t make it better.”
“Oh, I did. Just like I will now.” His breath on my face, I turned my head away. “Open your legs,” he said, and I heard fingers at his belt. “Don’t fucking deny me, Magpie, or you know what I will do to you. You know what happens to sluts who displease their master.”
“You’re not my master.”
“And he’s not your partner.” Strong hands pulled my thighs apart, and I froze. Lost. “You don’t belong here. At least you know what you’re getting with me, Magpie. You know the beautiful truth of the love we share. That man is a liar.”
“You lie, Vincent.”
“Give yourself to me,” he said. “And I won’t punish you.”
It was a losing battle, and I knew it. My knees couldn’t get leverage to kick out, and my wrists were pinned as soon as I went for him. My brain unravelled, like a fine thread, and I was laughing.
“Kiss me,” I said. “Show me how much you love me before you fuck me.”
“Oh, pretty bird,” he growled. “That’s a good girl.”
My mouth went for his, and I hoped he tasted all of it, every filthy part of Andy Morgan.
***
Chapter Twenty Three
Andy
I winced as I lowered myself into my seat. Jesus Christ, she’d fucked me good. I was already thinking up all the ways I’d pay her back, all the delicious ways I’d make her body worship mine. Submitting to Faye Devere wasn’t all that bad.
This arrangement might just fucking work.
There was only one seedy little fly left in the ointment, and I woke up my laptop to check on its status. With any luck we’d be home and dry, and life could carry on like it should have done three years ago, before that twisted sack of shit ever tempted her away. I pulled up his website and checked his events page, hoping at least some of them would have been cancelled. They would be if he had any sense in his pathetic skull.