Dirty Bad Secrets(54)

“Yes, Mr Morgan.”

I pulled my fingers from her pussy and breathed in her scent for the memories. “Call a taxi from the bar.”

“Yes, Mr Morgan.”

She was off like a shot, stopping only to give a pathetic little wave from the doorway.

I leaned over Faye and she wriggled her tight little ass at me.

“Just you and me now,” I whispered. “You’re in a whole fucking world of trouble, partner.”



***





Chapter Thirteen




Faye



Andy was wired. Coiled tight and ready to explode in my face. My confidence had vaporised, the take it, pretty boy Faye Devere who’d consumed me so totally had turned tail and fled. Now all that was left was me, familiar Faye, the Faye that had knelt at Vincent’s feet and taken every fucked up thing he had to give. The Faye that wanted to believe in Vincent’s romanticised ideals of becoming, the Faye that felt jealous and angry and confused, but pretended she wasn’t, that she was fine, and hot, and horny and still fucking loving it. Maybe I was still fucking loving it. My pussy was still aching for more, the nerves in my stomach still fluttering at the thought of Topaz riding Andy’s hard fucking cock to orgasm. I’d wanted him to take her tight virgin asshole, I’d wanted him to take her and make me watch, make me tell him how much I loved it, how much it pleased me to see him use another woman’s body over mine. So, why did it feel so fucking bad?

The low simmer of jealousy was back. I’d been fighting it for years, through agonised months where Vincent forced my instincts down my throat at every opportunity until I learned better. Until I transcended the idea of possession, and learned to become something more. The ultimate submissive, the ultimate lover, the ultimate player. The ultimate muse for his ultimate novels.

I didn’t feel quite so fucking ultimate right now. My nerves were frayed to shit.

“You liked it,” I repeated, maybe more for myself than for him. “Your cock was like an iron fucking rod with Topaz’s sweet little pussy on offer. You wanted her, I made it happen. You should both me thanking me.”

“Shut up, Faye,” he said. “Just shut the fuck up.” He stalked to my desk, and my heart stuttered as he grabbed my box of tricks from their hiding place. He tore into it, tossing out bubble wrap like a fountain. “Let’s see what other tricks you had up your fucking sleeve, shall we?”

I cringed as he pulled out the bottles of heavy duty lube, the bondage tape and the tongue forceps and the extra-large enema syringe.

“Well, well, well,” he said. “Don’t you have quite the collection?” He stacked up dildos and vibes, and one of those perineum butt plugs designed to seek out a man’s anal hot zone. I pressed my face into my hands, knowing exactly what was coming next. The strap-on was buried right at the bottom, a solid black monster designed for both depth and fucking girth. The Emperor, they’d called it, and rightly so. Even I’d taken a breath when I’d seen the thing in the flesh. “And this was for Topaz, was it, Faye?”

“You know exactly who it was for, Andy.”

He laughed, a horrible snarky laugh. “You really think you’re going to fuck me with this? Do I look like some sappy little man-slave? What is it that makes you think for one second I’d let you push me that far?”

A stupid fantasy. A stupid horny ridiculous dream.

“Don’t knock it til you try it,” I smiled. “You’d look good with it buried to the fucking hilt, it might teach you a little humility. It could be therapeutic.”

“Don’t fucking count on it.” He checked the box was empty, then dumped it back on the floor. “I hope you enjoyed your little moment, let’s see if you think it was still worth it when we’re done.”

My traitorous clit fluttered like a whore. “Come on, then, pretty boy,” I said. “You’d better get started.”

He was on me in a heartbeat, pinning me to the desk while his fingers twisted in my hair. He yanked my head back, his breath hot on my neck. “Don’t you dare fucking call me that again, not on my time.”

I wriggled my ass against him. “Come on, then, sir. Show me who’s boss. Punish me. We both need this.”

“Stop telling me what we need. I’ll decide what we fucking need.” He lowered his voice, and the sinister edge gave me tingles. “So much bravado,” he said. “But I know you’re nervous. I can feel you shaking, feel your pulse racing. I can hear that ragged little gulp in your breath that comes when you’re about to lose it. I know you, Faye Devere, and you’re not as fucking ballsy as you think you are.”