by Jade West
My mind cracked open, adrenaline rising to new heights. “No.”
“Which is it to be?” he pushed.
My breath hitched, pooling in my throat, toes curling. I couldn’t use the safeword, I just couldn’t. “More.”
“More what?”
“More pain, please, sir,” I wheezed.
“Good girl.” He didn’t let up, landing three in quick succession. I spluttered incomprehensible words, choking as they forced their way out, and there underneath were tears. I could feel them welling up, feel the lump tight in my throat. I crested my tolerance, every nerve crying for release. He hit me again and I coughed out a sob, chest heaving. I heard the lust in his voice, the soft groan of need. “That’s it, Cat, that’s it...”
I closed my eyes, ready to give it all up, ready to cry for him, but no sooner had the tears risen than they eased away again, retreating behind the wall of self-restraint. Masque must have witnessed the change; the way my body turned tense and rigid.
“No, Cat, no, no, no. Don’t close up on me now.”
The cane was more savage than ever, blow after blow without pause, and I screamed and screamed and screamed.
“NO! PLEASE, NO!”
“CRY FOR ME!” he screamed back. “FOR FUCK’S SAKE, CAT, CRY FOR ME!”
But I couldn’t cry. There were no tears left for me, and right there, bound and bruised, I realised I was scared, not of the cane, or of Masque, or of the strangers at the windows. I was scared of crying, scared of breaking. I was absolutely fucking petrified of letting it all go. I was shouting before I registered my own voice. “PARIS! PARIS, PARIS, PARIS!”
There was instant silence, only the ringing of my ears in the stillness. Then there was him, his fingers at my ankles, my bindings undone in a heartbeat. He freed my wrists and then I was off the bench, in warm arms, cradled between his thighs as he rocked me on the floor.
“Jesus, Lydia, I’m so fucking sorry.” I caught my breath, feeling his heartbeat almost as fast as my own. “It was too much,” he said. “Much too much.”
But it wasn’t. That wasn’t it. “No,” I said. “It wasn’t you.” I raised my eyes to his and started in shock. “Your mask!”
“Shh,” he said, stroking my cheek. “It doesn’t matter.”
“But they can see you!” I turned to the window, finding everyone else as shocked as I was.
“Just tell me you’re ok.”
I managed a smile. “I’m ok. I’m fine, now. I’m fine.”
He kissed my eyes and I wished beyond wished there were tears for him. “We’ll stop now, let me get your clothes.”
He made to move but I held him tight, snaking my arms around his neck. “No,” I said. “Please, don’t go.”
“Only for a second,” he appeased.
“No,” I hissed. “Please. I want you.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Me? Here? Now? Right now?”
I pulled his fingers down between my legs. “Now. Right now.”
“Shit, Lydia, you’re still wet.”
I lay back as he pulled his mask on, gasping at the cold press of the floor against my bruises. He followed me, covering my body with his, but I didn’t want that. I wriggled out from under him, rolling until he was pressed hard into my back. My eyes fixed on the faces at the window, at their gaping expressions. I was no longer scared of them, no longer embarrassed. I met their gaze with my own, rocking my hips back to coax Masque into me. He pulled my leg back over his, spreading me wide for their viewing. I groaned my approval.
“You like this now, hey, you dirty little bitch? Like their hungry eyes on your snatch? Look at them, hard for you, Lydia. They’re all hard for you.”
I turned my head to face him, pressing my mouth into his. “That’s not it,” I wheezed, bucking back against the thrust of his hips. His cock spread me open, forced its way right inside. “I don’t want them to see me, Masque, I don’t care if they’re hard for me.” I pulled his hand around to my breast, moaning as he twisted my nipple.
“Tell me,” he hissed. “What do you want them to see?” His hips slammed into my bruises and it felt so fucking good. “Tell me, Lydia. Look at them and tell me what makes you wet.”
He changed his angle, and his cock strained inside me, pressing on all the right places.
“I want them to see this,” I moaned. “I want them to see you inside me. Show them how I belong to you...”
He wrapped his hand around my throat, pressing his mouth into my ear as he slammed me harder and harder. “I’ll show them, Lydia. I’ll show them who owns this tight little cunt.” His fingers were on my clit, working me for just a second before he hooked two fingers inside, forcing them in alongside his cock. I whimpered, my pussy on fire. “Take it, Lydia, fucking take it.”
He wriggled his way in further, pushing a third finger in alongside, and it hurt, it really fucking hurt. “Shit, Masque, shit...”
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured. “Tell me to stop.”
“No,” I breathed. “Stretch me, Masque, please God, fucking stretch me! I want it!”
He was lost to me, grunting and thrusting and pounding his way inside. I arched my back and hissed for more, clenching my teeth until the brutal pulse of orgasm ripped through my senses. We were animals, beasts, and I clawed at his arms as he savaged my insides, loving the bellow of his eruption. He came inside me, a juddering rack of muscle and sin, breathing hot in my ear and pulling me tight.
“Fucking hell, Lydia, fucking hell...” he groaned. “Jesus fucking Christ, that was good.”
“Ow,” I laughed, flinching as he pulled himself out of me. I kissed him hard, sucking his tongue into my mouth like I’d never get enough of him. “What are you doing to me?” I giggled, high on endorphins. “This is crazy.”
But he didn’t laugh back, didn’t even hear me. His attention was on the window, and the woman staring back at him.
***
Chapter Fourteen
Lydia
Masque pulled on his jeans in silence, and I didn’t dare speak a word. The woman through the window flashed a smile, blowing him a kiss, and I watched his expression darken, lips nothing more than a tight slash of rage. I got dressed, suddenly self-conscious and awkward, trying not to meet our observer’s eyes. She was pretty, really fucking pretty, with a gentle cascade of perfect blonde waves bouncing around her shoulders. She had a tiny nose, gorgeous full lips, and eyes of sky blue, and her figure... well, she could have stepped straight off the cover of Vogue. Inadequacy slapped me around the face, and then, I knew the woman was Rachel.
He took my hand without a word and led me away like she meant nothing, despite his expression screaming otherwise. Cara was standing at the bar with her arms folded, tapping at a stool with her shoe. She smiled as she saw me, but it was such a nervous little effort. I spotted Rebecca a few metres behind, a mass of angry arms and jerky gestures, getting right in the face of some other woman. She moved enough for me to see beyond and I recognised Jaz’s purple hair. I clenched Masque’s hand tighter, but he didn’t grip back.
“Wait here for me, Cat.” He dropped me with Cara and barely pecked my cheek before he turned away. I could only watch him leave, pacing straight for the corridor and the perfect blonde waiting there.
“Sorry,” Cara said. “Raven wanted to warn you, but that crazy bitch started mouthing off.”
“Just piss off!” I heard Rebecca shout. “Trouble-making bitch!”
“You’re the trouble-making bitch that started this whole thing in the first place!” Jaz screeched.
“Don’t confuse me with that trampy fucking whore in the corridor over there,” Rebecca raged back. “Do the whole fucking place a favour and take her the fuck home, will you? She’s not fucking welcome here!”
“I’m not going fucking anywhere, and neither is Rachel, not until she’s had her say.”
“Knock yourself out,” Raven spat, turning on her heel and flashing Jaz the finger.
She took me by the hand and Cara by an
other, trawling us through the main floor and into the ladies room. “I meant to warn you, Lyds,” she said. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe that shit-stirring bitch pulled this stunt.”
I bit my lip. “She wants him back doesn’t she? That’s why she’s here.”
“She can want on,” Bex snapped.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror, the pale wash of my face under smudged make-up. “She’s so pretty.”
“She’s alright,” Cara shrugged. “If you like that kind of thing.”
I smiled at her attempt to make me feel better. “So, what do I do now? Do I go home? Wait for the storm to ride out?”
Rebecca grabbed my chin, forcing my eyes right onto hers. “You will do no such fucking thing, Lyds, you will hold your ground. This is your place now, with Masque.”
“Not really,” I said. “I’ve got no claim on him.”
“More than she fucking has,” Bex spat. “She’s a stupid, selfish cow.”
“Who’s married to him...” I mumbled.
“On paper, nothing else.”
“I hope you’re right.” I twisted my hands together, nerves taking hold.
Cara squeezed my arm. “Don’t let her do this, you’re good together.”
“Rachel’s not going to do anything,” Rebecca snarled. “This is your chance, Lyds, you have to take it.”
“Take it how?” I shrugged. “What am I supposed to do?”
She pointed at the exit, at the floor beyond. “You get out there and stake your claim. This is woman to woman, Lyddie, you march up to them and you take him by the hand and make it clear that you’re the one he’s with now.”
“But I’m not...” I sighed.
“May as well be,” Cara smiled. “You’re with him every week, he hasn’t been with anyone else since you’ve been here. Hasn’t even looked.”
My stomach was tangled in knots. “You really think I should do this, just walk up to them, bold as brass?”
“Yep,” Rebecca said. “For her benefit, not his. Smile and take his hand and say you’ll be at the bar waiting. Say anything really, Lyds, just make it clear that he’s with you and you aren’t some scared little puppy dog. That’s what she wants, for you to scurry away.”
“I’m not running,” I said, resolve firming up. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Go, go, go!” Cara squeaked. “Put your flag in the ground!”
I looked back from the doorway, heart in my throat.
“Go, baby!” Raven whooped, air-punching like a cheerleader. “Show that bitch he’s yours!”
***
My nerves dried up halfway across the main floor, and I slowed right down, pulse thumping as I peered around the corridor to where they were standing. Everyone else had vacated, making them easy targets for my snooping. I could hear Rachel’s voice, husky... just the perfect edge of bitch to it. I pressed myself to the wall, and they talked on, oblivious.
“Why do we have to go over and over this,” he hissed. “I don’t want you here.”
“And I told you, that I’d come back.”
“Why, Rach? What’s the point? You hardly needed this place to get yourself laid. Go find somewhere else to amuse yourself, will you? Leave me the fuck out of it!”
“You know why I’m here, James,” she said, running her hand down his arm. “I miss you. I miss us.”
“You need to move on,” he sighed. My heart swelled, thank fuck. “I have.”
Her eyes narrowed. “So I heard. Back on the work-dating scene now, are you? You said you’d never do that again. Where will you run to next, hey? Manchester, Bristol, Birmingham? This is your home, James, here. Don’t blow it for a silly little girl playing the keen submissive.”
“Leave Lydia out of this,” he barked. “She’s nothing to do with this.”
“So, she’s not your girlfriend?” she smiled. “What is she, then?”
He turned away from her, hands on his temples. “It’s none of your business.”
“We’re still married, James, I’m still your wife.”
He laughed, low and bitter. “Funny, isn’t it? When we were together you couldn’t get enough of telling people we were estranged, and now we’re estranged you can’t get enough of telling people we’re married. You’ve got it the wrong way around, sweetheart, that ship sailed a long time ago.”
“So, what’s going on?” she snapped. “What is she to you?”
I took a step away, unable to watch. The silence dragged on forever before I heard him sigh, only the rush of my pulse loud in my ears.
“She’s a mistake, if you must know,” he said, his voice dull and bitter. “A huge fucking mistake.”
My stomach pained like I’d taken a bullet, right in the gut, and then there were the tears I’d been trying so hard for. They came hard, they came fast, they came without restraint, how fucking ironic.
I sloped away before I could hear another word.
***
James
I stared into eyes I used to love, used to live for, but they meant nothing to me. Rachel shifted her weight onto one hip, waiting for an answer. Like she fucking deserved one.
“She’s a mistake,” I growled. “A huge fucking mistake.”
Her face lit up, relief glowing on her cheeks, and I could have choked the life out of her.
“I’m glad you’ve still got some of your senses, James.”
“I haven’t fucking finished,” I snapped. “She’s a huge fucking mistake, a mistake I swore I’d never fucking make again, not ever. But you know what? I made it, and now I’m not sorry I did. She is not some silly little girl playing submissive. She’s an incredible woman with incredible integrity.”
“So, she is your girlfriend.”
“I don’t even know how to have a relationship anymore, so no, she’s not.”
“And that’s my fault, I suppose?” she snapped.
“If the cap fits...”
“That’s fucking cruel, James, really fucking cruel. How many times can I say I’m sorry? How many times before you’ll give me another chance?”
“You’re all out of chances,” I said, bluntly.
“You still love me.” Her face was flushed, tears pricking at her eyes. She was always so easy with the tears. “I know you do.”
“I did love you, Rachel, but it’s over. We’re over.”
“You really want her more than me?” A tear spilled down her cheek and she made no attempt to brush it aside.
“Don’t sound so surprised, it’s really not that close a competition.”
“Bastard! You love her, don’t you?” she cried, blubbing like a baby. Once upon a time I’d have been putty in her hands.
I walked away. “Maybe one day I’ll know what love is again, Rach, but it won’t be with you.”
She charged after me, wrenching me back by the wrist. “This thing you’ve got isn’t about Lydia, it’s about Katreya!”
I shook her off. “It’s not about Katreya.”
“Her eyes don’t mean shit, James, she’ll never be her!”
“But I don’t want Lydia to be Katreya,” I said, shocking myself as much as her. “Lydia’s too fucking perfect as she is.”
***
Rebecca was waiting for me on the way to the bar, face like thunder.
“It’s sorted,” I said. “And now I need a fucking drink.”
“You’re a fucking idiot,” she snapped, shoving her phone in my face.
“What the hell?!” I took the handset from her.
I’m a huge fucking mistake. Gone home, please don’t follow me. x
“She’s a mistake is she? Is that really what you think? And you told her that?” Rebecca hissed.
I groaned inside. “Sweet pissing Christ, she was listening.”
“Yeah, she was listening, I sent her over. More fucking fool me, Masque.”
“Give me some credit, will you? That isn’t what I said, it’s been taken out of context.”
She covered her eyes w
ith her hands. “This is one huge pissing nightmare, this is.”
“Relationships always are, that’s why I abstain.”
“So she isn’t a mistake?” she asked, folding her arms.
“We’ll find out, won’t we?” I abandoned my craving for scotch, cursing my luck. “Give me your keys.”
“She won’t want to talk to you, she’s upset.”
“Your keys, Rebecca,” I snapped, then checked myself. “Please...”
She eyeballed me with a pouty lip, then finally relented, handing them over. “Don’t fuck this up, Masque, don’t you fucking dare!”
I wasn’t planning on it.
***
I kept my feet light on the stairs, slipping the key quietly in the lock. I made my entrance, eyes scanning the place for signs of life. There was only the dull orange glow from a table lamp, spilling out from the corner of the living room. Lydia’s voice cut out, shrill, she sounded so fucking pained.
“You didn’t have to come home,” she wheezed. “I should have known I was just a stupid mistake. He doesn’t give a shit about me, and why would he? That woman’s like a goddess.”
“Goddess of adultery, maybe,” I said, turning the corner.
She jumped a mile, skitting back into the arm of the sofa, eyes wide. “I really, really need to stop doing that.”
I took a seat. “Doing what?”
“Assuming people are Rebecca. Although you can see why I’d assume such a thing, considering we are the only two people who actually live here.”
I smiled. “Intruders are a regular occurrence here, are they?”
“Only you and Jaz. She was here the other day.”
My brain whirred. “That would make some sense.”
“Like I said, I thought she was Rebecca, I said some things I probably shouldn’t have.”
“We can all say things we probably shouldn’t have, Lydia.”
Her eyes were so sad. “You don’t ever need to apologise for telling the truth, James. What are you even doing here?”
I soaked her in; the pale beauty of her legs held tight to her chest, the soft slope of her shoulders, the dark mess of her tangled hair, thrown up into a pony. She was wearing just a tiny pair of panties and a faded old pink camisole. She’d never looked more exposed, not even with her pussy spread wide for all the world to see. Her eyes were red, puffy. Maybe I’d broken her after all, just not as I intended. I reached out a hand, brushing her ankle with my fingertips. “Is this your regular home dress, Lydia? Rebecca must be rubbing off on you.”
