“Whatever you say, boss.”
He eased up the pressure, and his hands trapped my hips, rolling me onto my back. His eyes were on mine and they were dark, and angry, and dangerous. God, I wanted him like this. This was the Andy Morgan I’d been crazy for, the one who could’ve meant something, meant everything. “I want to know two things,” he said. “And then I’m going to give you what’s owing.”
“What things?”
“Firstly, did you pull that crazy shit because you wanted to watch Topaz morph into princess fucking slutty, or because you wanted the punishment you’d get as a result?”
“Both,” I replied, quickly. “I wanted all of it, including what’s coming next.” I admired the smudged lipstick on his chest. “What’s number two?”
He took hold of my chin, forcing my gaze back onto his. “Did it make you jealous? Are you jealous now, Faye? Does the thought of me fucking Topaz’s sweet little cunt twist you up inside?”
I forced a smile. “Jealous? Of course not.”
“She’s probably still out there, waiting for her taxi. I could go out there and fuck her over the bar, show her how good it feels to have a nice thick cock in her ass. That wouldn’t mean shit to you, is that what you’re claiming?”
I gritted my jaw. “Jealousy is a beautiful thing, Andy, but it has no place in any true sexual freedom.”
He rubbed a thumb across my lips. “That’s the biggest load of fucking bullshit I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s not bullshit! True sexual freedom transcends jealousy, it transcends everything. It’s about letting go, reaching the heights of human experience, loving without inhibition, without boundaries, without possession. Go and fuck her, if that’s what you want. I’d be happy for you, both of you.”
“I hate that fucking idiot and I’ve never even met the prick,” he said. “Vincent cunting Blackthorne, Class-A fucking tosser. Where is that shit even from? The Vincent Blackthorne fucking bible?”
“He has his faults,” I said. “His ideology isn’t one of them. It’s beautiful.”
The corners of his mouth dropped into a scowl. “It’s beautiful, is it, Faye?”
I nodded. “Yes, it is.”
“And that’s why you ran away? Because it was too fucking beautiful?”
Anger sliced up my spine. “I didn’t run away because of the sex, Andy. I loved the sex, I loved all of it. I loved him.”
“All of it?” His question was loaded, dripping with the unspoken, and my stomach lurched at the implication.
Surely not. I’d never have reckoned on him finishing the first book, let alone braving the sequel.
I forced a smile. “Yes, Andy, all of it. Every dirty, filthy, horny fucking bit of it.”
With fire in his eyes he stormed to the gurney and lowered the rail with an angry clank. He moved the cuffs, and tossed the used rubber into the bin. It left a big wet smear on the padding, and I found myself wondering if he’d make me lick it clean. “Here,” he said. “Now.”
I approached slowly, warily, nervous at what the fuck lay in front of me, but too turned on to care. I took a seat and swung my legs up, but Andy didn’t simply cuff me to the rails like I had him. He lifted my legs over the sides and stretched me until it hurt, he cuffed me at full tension, where the angle of my legs strained hard and my sopping pussy was spread wide on display. The metal railings bit into my thighs, but there was nothing I could do about it, I could hardly move an inch. I groaned as he took my wrists and pulled them high. He stretched them out over the top of the gurney and fastened the cuffs on the lowest rail they would reach.
Oh the ache, stretched to the limit with nowhere to move. My calves were already twitchy, shoulders beginning to ache from the strain. He appeared between my legs with the fat black strap-on in his hands, and for the first time I was actually nervous of him. He smiled as he saw it in my eyes.
“Don’t fancy it, then, Faye? Aren’t you going to show me how it’s done?” He slapped the thing hard against my pussy and it thumped, it actually fucking thumped.
“Fuck,” I groaned. “Do it, if that’s what you want.”
I flinched as he threw it across the room. It slammed into the filing cabinet, letting off an almighty crash before it bounced onto the floor. “And what other things should I want, Faye? What other dirty, filthy fucking things would you take for me?”
Oh God the ache in my limbs, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my fucking pussy. He was taking me there, to that glorious, hedonistic point of no return, and I wanted it, oh fuck, how I wanted it. “Anything,” I whispered. “Take whatever you want, I’ll do whatever you want, just make me feel dirty, Andy. Make it fucking dirty.”