“Does it?” I bit my lip to stop a giggle.
“I wouldn’t know, to be honest it never really came to that, it was just pre-emptive. You ruined me for anyone else, Faye.”
Oh my heart. It jumped a mile. “I did?”
“Yes. You did.” He sighed. “Can you please open this door? Can we just talk, Faye? Please. I just want to talk to you.”
I brushed the dust from the picture frame and looked again at my smile, and I knew, I knew how I felt then and I knew how I really felt now, and it was worth fucking fighting for. Worth staying for.
“I love you,” I said.
“Sorry?” his voice was nothing but shock. “What did you say?”
I sighed. “I said I love you. I should have just said it before I went running off.”
“Or I should have.”
“Yeah, you should have.” I pressed my head to the door.
“There’s those fucking secrets again,” he said. “I think we should try and avoid them in the future, don’t you?”
I grinned, laughed, just enough that I heard him moving. “I think it would be for the best, yes.”
His hand on the door handle, I could hear it, and I was up, on my feet, my hand on there too.
“Can I come in, Faye?”
I took a breath. “It’s your fucking apartment, Andy.”
The door swung open and he was there. His face a picture I’d never forget. Sorry, and relieved, and angry, and pissed off and sore and scared and all of those things at once. “Our apartment, Faye. It’s been our apartment since you got here. You don’t need a piece of fucking paper to tell you that. It just is.” He smiled, and he was more nervous than I’d ever seen him. “Stay,” he whispered. “Please just fucking stay with me, I don’t want to do this without you.”
“You did it just fine already,” I said. “You didn’t need me, Andy, you did just fine on your own.”
“I did need you. I just made do. And now I know just how much better it is with you back here I don’t want to do it alone. Please, Faye, just fucking stay. I’m asking you to stay.” He raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to fucking beg, is that it? Because I’ve got a pretty sore fucking asshole, and my knuckles are pounding like a bastard, and I’m tired, and fucking achy, and my back is covered with fucking war wounds.” He rolled his eyes, “But I will beg, if that’s what it will take to get your crazy fucking ass back in my bed where it belongs.”
“Beg,” I whispered. “On your knees.”
He sighed. “You’re pushing your fucking luck, Faye Devere.”
He knelt for me. Andy Morgan knelt at my fucking feet, and he brushed his fingertips up my thighs, and pulled me close. “Stay,” he said. “Please, for the love of God and everything fucking sacred, for my sake, for your sake, for our fucking club’s fucking sake, please just fucking stay with me.”
I laughed, and it was a good laugh. A happy laugh. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and held him tight.
So fucking tight.
It felt so fucking right.
“Is that a yes?” he said.
“It was a yes ten minutes ago.” I smiled. “I just wanted to hear you beg.”
***
Epilogue
Andy
“Here,” I said. “Just so you know.”
She leaned across me, staring at my screen.
Faye Helena Devere, Director. All in black and white. All official.
“Good,” she smiled. “About time.” She sat herself down on my lap, her face in mine. “I’m thinking dirty Karaoke,” she said. “Friday night special, once a month.”
I pulled a frown. “I’m not sure that’s really Explicit, Faye, it seems a bit more pint of cheap bitter down your local than classy sex club.”
“I think it could work.”
“I think you’ll have a load of drunks considerably more interested in spanking than singing. I think it will be a waste of good time.” I brushed her pretty mouth with my thumb. “Good time you could be putting to much better use, Faye. There’s a whole pile of insurance documents in the cabinet that need sorting.”
“They do, do they?”
“Yes, partner, they do.”
“Shame,” she said. “I had other things planned.” She went for my belt, nimble fingers making light work of it, and then she lifted herself, enough to free my cock and work it in her dirty fucking fingers.
“That’s foul play,” I groaned. “You can’t just solve every fucking difference of opinion by going for my prick.”
“If it works,” she smirked.
I hitched up her skirt, then teased her perky little nipples through her corporate bitch blouse. Her term, not mine. “Two can play that game, sweet thing.”