Dirty Bad Secrets(76)

“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.