Dirty Bad Secrets

by West, Jade

  We ate breakfast in silence and headed over to the club earlier than usual. She chewed her nails as we crawled through traffic, and my knuckles were white on the steering wheel, but at least I had an excuse.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she said, but her eyes didn’t leave the road ahead.

  “Not really. Do you want to talk about it?”

  She shook her head. “It’s over. With Vincent, I mean. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  “And what about us, Faye? Do you want to talk about that?”

  “Not really, Andy, no. Not now.”

  “Fine.”

  I’d have pushed it if I hadn’t been so preoccupied, but my blood was still boiling, threatening to lash out at anyone that crossed my path. I opened up the club and gathered the mail, and Faye darted about the place doing a cleaning inspection as I took up my seat in the office.

  I knew exactly what I was going for as I fired up my laptop.

  Vincent cunting Blackthorne’s fucking website.

  It was easy enough to find what I was seeking. His website had a tab just for the purpose: Events.

  I clicked on it.

  Fucking bingo!

  The vain cunt had loaded up his schedule to the max, signing after signing in bookshops all around London. Today he was in Leicester Square, signing at one of the major chains from two until four. I had plenty of time. I closed the page as Faye joined me, and she seemed none the wiser. I sorted the banking from the pile of envelopes and handed them over, and she didn’t raise an eyebrow, just got to work as I sifted through the rest.

  I processed membership applications, but my attention wasn’t really on them, it was on her.

  “What?” she asked, eventually. “It’s not like you to be lost for words.”

  “Nothing.” I turned my chair towards her. “Are you alright, Faye? After last night, I mean.” I paused. “And everything.”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “It was nice.” Her eyes pierced mine, and they were frostier than I’d have liked. “Don’t think this changes anything, Andy. I still want what I want. One night of cuddles doesn’t mean I’m your lapdog.”

  “Did I even suggest it fucking did?”

  “No,” she said. “But I know you. You can’t help yourself.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.” She lightened her words with a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s only reaffirmed what I already knew.”

  “Which is?”

  “I want equality. I’m not going to settle for anything less. Not again. Not ever.”

  I sighed. “Fine, Faye. Whatever you say. We’ll talk about it when we get home.”

  Home? Did I just say that?

  “Yes, we will.”

  Her smile told me she’d noticed, too.

  I waited until Topaz was in before I made my exit. Faye was helping her out with preparations for the big birthday celebration and I strode through the bar with as little fanfare as possible. I nearly made it to the door before I was collared.

  “Going out?” Faye asked, like it wasn’t fucking obvious.

  “I’m meeting a supplier, negotiating next quarter’s prices.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you think I should be involved?”

  I didn’t have time for her bloody outrage, so I shifted to cunt mode, easily and effortlessly. “Organise it for your week, Faye, if you want to play the big I am. This is my week, remember?”

  “You’re ridiculous,” she snapped, but it did the job, she skulked off to Topaz with a scowl and the two of them began their gossiping. I didn’t even care. I had bigger fish to fry.

  ***

  The bookshop was pissing heaving with Vincent Blackthorne fangirls. More hairspray and lipstick than you could shake a fucking stick at. It drove me to fucking insanity, just being in the pissing queue.

  I’m so excited! Oh my God, it’s really him! I love his books, love, love, love them! I can’t believe he’s really here!

  Idiots. Gullible, naïve, horny fucking idiots.

  It gave me chance to scope out the sack of shit. He was much bigger than I’d anticipated, and older. Much older. The cunt had to be pushing fifty, and his slicked-back hair was peppered with grey. He had a ridiculous little beard, supposedly to look artistic, and his eyes were hungry for tight little pussy. He held onto adoring hands for far too long, practically slavering as his groupies gushed about his trashy fucking novels.

  I could hardly bear to watch, but the alternative was worse, huge glossy pictures of that fucking cover, of Faye’s tear-streaked face staring out at me. It fuelled the flames, alright.

  Vincent showed me little interest since I was male. He flipped open a paperback and grunted a poor excuse of a welcome.

  “Who is this for?” he said, and his accent was thick and overdone and I could have choked the slimy twat right then.

  “Make it out to Faye,” I snarled. “You can make it a goodbye note considering you’ll never see her again, you seedy fucking cunt.”

  His eyes glinted as he stared up at me and realisation kicked in. “Andy Morgan, club owner extraordinaire. The man who should’ve meant something.” He laughed like a twat. “I’ve been wondering when we should meet.” He put down his pen and crossed his arms. “There will be no goodbye note. My magpie belongs with me, there are no goodbyes for a love like ours.”

  I shrugged my shoulders, scouting a look over my shoulder for signs of security. “I’m glad you don’t want to do this the easy way,” I said, then landed a fist straight to the cunt’s jaw. It made one hell of a crack and he went flying, toppling from his little plastic chair and sprawling straight amongst his nasty fucking paperbacks. The queue jumped into life, springing back from the fracas with shrill little squeals, and people were screaming for staff, for security, for the fucking police. My seconds were numbered, but I didn’t give a fuck. I jabbed a finger across the table as he stumbled around on all fours, giving him everything I had to fucking give him.

  “This is your final warning, you perverted cunt. You ever come near Faye again and I swear to fucking God you’ll regret the day you ever fucking met her.”

  “I will never regret meeting her,” he grunted. “And I know that she’ll regret meeting me even less.”

  “Fuck off,” I spat. “I think you’ll find Faye’s no longer the doting little slave girl you moulded her into.”

  “I didn’t mould her.” He grinned and I hated him even fucking more, if that was humanly fucking possible. “She wanted it. She likes it. She fucking loves it.” He pressed his fingers to his jaw. “She fucking loves me.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, old man. She left you, remember? She walked away from your seedy little games and your seedy little life. Ciao, tosser.”

  “A misunderstanding,” he scoffed. “She’ll understand, once we have a moment to connect.”

  “There’ll be no fucking moment. Trust me, Vince, you want to be getting back on that fucking plane before I have reason to seek out your seedy cunting face again. Next time I’ll make sure there are no fucking witnesses.”

  “You do not understand a love like ours,” he smirked, and I was sick of hearing it, so fucking sick to death of it.

  “I understand just fucking fine. You’re a cunt. She’s over it. Fly home, forget about her. Find some other trusting cunt to stick needles into.”

  I could see movement from the corner of my eye, staff were gathering, waiting for backup. I should be getting out of there. I needed to get the hell out of there.

  “I will never forget about her,” he snarled, and his eyes were vicious, like a rabid fucking dog’s. “I know all about you, Andrew Morgan. I know all about your little business dealings, and I know all about Club Explicit. And my pretty bird will know it, too, believe me. She’ll be back into my arms before you know it, you cannot stop destiny and you cannot stop true love.”

  His words fucking chilled me, prickled the back of my neck with a dread I’d
been trying to ignore.

  “Shut your stupid cunting mouth,” I snapped. “You know nothing about me.”

  “Oh, but I do,” he laughed. “I know so much.”

  Two men came down the stairs and my time was definitely up. “Go back to Italy,” I snarled. “I fucking mean it.”

  I was out of there and on the fucking tube before they could stop me, and it was only then that I realised how hard I’d fucking hit the asshole. My knuckles were fucking killing me.

  ***

  Faye followed me through to the office with angry steps. She slammed the door behind us and faced me off.

  “Where did you go?” she snapped. “Topaz says the reps come to us, always, she says they aren’t due for another month.”

  “Topaz can watch her loose fucking mouth,” I hissed. “And you can stop digging around my business. I went where I went, end fucking of.”

  She closed the distance, and I winced as she yanked my bruised hand into view. Her colour drained, eyes wide.

  “You saw him, didn’t you? Oh my God, you went to him.” She covered her mouth with her hands, thoroughly fucking mortified.

  “So what if I did? The cunt had it coming, he won’t be bothering you now, Faye, not if the wanker’s got any sense.”

  “You think that will stop him? Punching him in the face isn’t going to stop him, Andy. You don’t know him.”

  “I’m not sure about that,” I said. “I hit him pretty fucking hard.” I shook my hand out, and the knuckles were puffed up nicely. “He’s a stupid old prick. I was expecting more.”

  “It’s not about how he looks. It’s about how he is.”

  “How he is, is a stupid cunt with a sore fucking jaw. How he is, if he’s got any pissing sense, is on priority flight number get the fuck lost back to Venice.”

  I saw something flash in her eyes, something slightly less hostile. “I’ve never seen you like this,” she said.

  “Like what? Angry? You’ve seen me angry plenty of times, Faye.”

  “Not so… caveman. Did you thump your chest like King Kong?”

  “So you think it’s funny now, do you? Make up your fucking mind.”

  “I’m just surprised.”

  “Yes, well, maybe you shouldn’t be.”

  “Maybe.” She smiled. “Thank you, it’s sweet, but I think you’ll be disappointed. He won’t be going anywhere, not just because you thumped him in the face.”

  “Sweet? Is that what you think this is?” I scoffed. “It wasn’t pissing sweet, Faye, I would have torn his spleen out if the place hadn’t been packed out with wannabe slave girls.”

  “Well, let’s be thankful they were there, then,” she smirked. “I could do without bailing you out of prison on assault charges.”

  “Murder charges, Faye. I hope you’ve got some cash stashed,” I said. “Would’ve solved our little power crisis, at least. Vincent without a spleen, me locked up behind bars.” I managed a laugh. “You probably still wouldn’t have managed to get the banking done on fucking time.” I gestured to the pile on her desk.

  “Alright, smart arse.” She slapped my back and pulled my chair out from my desk. “Let’s get you a bloody ice pack, and I’ll go and do the bloody banking.”

  ***

  I left my bedroom door open, and she dithered in the corridor. We still hadn’t spoken, not really, and it was getting too tense for comfort. Too fucking tense for peace. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my reflection, I looked exhausted and felt it, too.

  “Yes,” I said. “It’s left open for you. You can come in.”

  “And this is how it is now?” she quizzed. “We kiss and cuddle, you thump Vincent, and now I sleep in your bedroom?”

  “Is that so fucking bad?”

  “Is that still the let me be in charge tone I hear in your voice? I think it is.”

  “Why fight it?”

  “Because I want more.” She folded her arms and sighed, and I used the moment to beckon her closer. She walked over, and fell onto my lap without protest, but her expression was still petulant.

  I rested my chin on her shoulder, eyes hard on hers in the mirror. “We’re good like this, Faye.”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “So, what’s wrong with this picture? Why is this not enough?”

  She turned around, until her eyes were on mine and not on the reflection. She adjusted herself, straddling me the opposite way around, her long legs wrapping around my waist, her breath so fucking sweet against my lips. “Because I want more,” she whispered. “I want everything.”

  “Why?” I sighed. “Why do you have to have everything? Why does it have to be such a fucking battle?”

  She shrugged and her eyes were honest, so honest. “I want to be worth it. I want to be worth everything.”

  My stomach twisted, a horrible feeling. And there was something strange beneath it, something unfamiliar. Need. Vulnerability. Some other sappy bullshit. If I could’ve doused it in petrol and set it alight, I would have, but she was in me, right the way through me, her siren fingers reaching out to steal my fucking soul.

  Things were getting crazy, spiralling out of control and I didn’t have the first fucking clue how to stop them, or if I wanted to. I didn’t know how to go with the flow, either. Basically, I knew fucking shit, and it was uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable.

  “I don’t know how to give everything. I don’t even know what that means, Faye.”

  Her smile was dirty and absolutely fucking delicious. “I want to fuck you,” she said, simply. “I want to take you the way you take me.”

  “You actually want to fuck me? For fucking real? Jesus Christ.”

  She nodded. “That’s exactly what I want. I want you on your knees, I want you to look at me the way I look at you. I want you to look at me the way I looked at Vince, like I’m everything. Everything, Andy, like the world begins and ends with me. That’s what I want. That’s what I need.”

  “You don’t want fucking much, then?” I shook my head. “I don’t think I can do that, Faye. It isn’t who I am.”

  “You don’t think you can do it. You don’t know. You’ve been sub before, I know you have. You’re the one with the coin.”

  I sighed. “A long fucking time ago, and I was never really submissive. You know exactly what I’m like, I was no different then. It was just a game.”

  “I want to mean everything,” she whispered, and her fingers trailed my cheek. “If that’s not who you are, then it’s not who you are, but it’s what I need.”

  “No compromise? Your way or the fucking highway? Is that it?” I scoffed. “Jesus Christ, do you have to be so… difficult?”

  “I can’t be any other way,” she grinned. “It isn’t who I am.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Ok, then, Miss fucking Everything. Maybe if we both try we’ll meet somewhere in the middle, how about that for a novelty?”

  She tilted her head from side to side. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?”

  “I want what I want,” she said. “It’s up to you if you can give it to me.” She pushed me onto my back, and fell forwards with me, and her delicious mouth was on mine, her hands snaking down my chest. She sat upright, guiding my hands to her tits, and rocked there, like some kind of horny fucking cowgirl. “So, how about this middle ground?” she smiled. “I think it’s time you put your money where your mouth is, pretty boy.”

  ***

  Chapter Eighteen

  Faye

  “I think it’s time to put your money where your mouth is, pretty boy.”

  He tensed underneath me, his expression darkening, but I ground against his cock to disarm him. He groaned, and closed his eyes, and I hedged my bet that he was too horny to fight me.

  “Please, Andy,” I whispered. “Please let’s try this.”

  “Try what?” he asked.

  “Trust me.” I ran my hands up his chest, enjoying the firmness. His nostrils flared at that.

  “That’s just the thi
ng,” he hissed. “I’m not sure whether I do. You’re too… unpredictable.”

  “You like me that way,” I smiled. “It excites you. That’s one of the things you like best about me, that’s one of the things you’ve always liked best about me. Don’t think I don’t know it.”

  “I like your passion and your spontaneity at work, Faye. I’m not sure it stretches to your deviant fucking plans for my asshole.”

  Oh God, his filthy mouth, his cocky, snarky, arrogant fucking voice. Fuck, how I wanted this. The thought of him at my mercy had long driven me out of my mind. He could see it, I’m sure, his body tense and suspicious. I met his eyes, and the hunger in mine must have burned. “Please,” I said. “You have no idea how much I want you like this.”

  “Like what?” he snapped, but there was a hint of resignation in it, the tiniest glimpse of surrender. “How do you want me, exactly?”

  I dismounted and scurried up the bed, rearranging pillows that smelled like him. He rolled over and watched me with a brooding scowl, but he didn’t object. I arranged two pillows for his head and two further down, to where I’d need them. I patted the mattress. “I want you here,” I said. “On your back.”

  It took him a moment. A long moment. When he moved I could’ve kissed him, just for the simple gesture.

  “I’m guessing those are for my arse?”

  I nodded. “Please lie down.”

  He sighed, but did what he had to. I adjusted the pillows under him until his ass was raised for me. His legs were bent at the knee, his feet pressed to the bed, tense. I ran my hands up over his thighs.

  “Relax,” I said, and eased them open, eased them until they were spread wide for me. I knelt between them, admiring the impressive swell of his cock. He was wet and twitchy and fucking gorgeous. I put my hand around him, but kept it still, clenching and unclenching in slow torment. It was enough that he closed his eyes. “Don’t come,” I whispered.

  “I’ll try my fucking best.”

  Gently I touched my tongue to the tip of him. He reached for the headboard and gripped tight, and the muscles in his stomach rippled. He was absolutely fucking magnificent. “You are perfect like this,” I hissed. “So perfect.”