by West, Jade
I opened the wardrobe door, started piling my clothes in heaps, and I was already calculating my get-out route, down south in a cab to Mum and Dad’s, and from there who knows? A fresh start. Another fresh fucking start.
A slip fell from its hanger, pooling at the bottom of the wardrobe, I cursed as I went for it. The slippery little piece of crap had fallen behind a load of Andy’s storage stuff, some old records, and a framed map and something else in a frame. I pulled it out to free some space, and it knocked me sideways.
It was me and him. A print in black and white, and I was smiling. Opening night. He had his hands on my waist, and his lips to my cheek and I was grinning happy. So happy.
I’d loved him then. I’d loved him so much I could hardly fucking bear it. I’d loved every minute I’d spent with him, and then it wasn’t enough anymore. It was never enough.
I had no idea he’d loved me, too. No idea.
But I did now.
A sob in my throat, and I dropped to my backside, just me and that picture and my stupid dramatic bitch of a heart.
“I’m still here.” His voice came through the door and he was right on the other side. He tapped the door to illustrate, and the sound was low down, lower than the handle. I pictured him there, sitting on the floor, his legs up to his chest in the corridor. I scooted along with the picture, propping myself against the other side. Just a couple of inches apart. So close and yet so fucking far.
“I can’t stay,” I cried.
“You can,” he said. “You just have to want to.”
“But everything…” I sobbed. “It’s such a mess.”
“I can’t undo taking your name off the directorship, but I can put it back on there, in a flash. And as for Vincent, and whatever other crap there is to work through, we’ll do that, too. None of it fucking matters if you’re here, Faye, we can work it out. You just have to stay. Have to want to stay.”
“I don’t know, Andy…” And the tears kept coming. “I found your picture… of us…”
“Which one? I’ve got quite a few.”
“Opening night, black and white.”
I heard him laugh. “That doesn’t narrow it down much, Faye. I’ve got quite a few of them, too.”
“You’re kissing my cheek. I’m wearing that dress with the buckles.”
“Ah, yes. It used to be in the living room, above the dining table, far wall.”
“Why did you take it down?”
“Besides the fact that you’d bailed to fuck some other guy and leave me with a club to run on my own, you mean?”
“Yes, besides that.” The slightest relief in my chest, the slightest flutter of something nice.
“I was trying to move on. It’s not much of a pussy magnet believe it or not. Puts the chicks off.”
“Does it?” I bit my lip to stop a giggle.
“I wouldn’t know, to be honest it never really came to that, it was just pre-emptive. You ruined me for anyone else, Faye.”
Oh my heart. It jumped a mile. “I did?”
“Yes. You did.” He sighed. “Can you please open this door? Can we just talk, Faye? Please. I just want to talk to you.”
I brushed the dust from the picture frame and looked again at my smile, and I knew, I knew how I felt then and I knew how I really felt now, and it was worth fucking fighting for. Worth staying for.
“I love you,” I said.
“Sorry?” his voice was nothing but shock. “What did you say?”
I sighed. “I said I love you. I should have just said it before I went running off.”
“Or I should have.”
“Yeah, you should have.” I pressed my head to the door.
“There’s those fucking secrets again,” he said. “I think we should try and avoid them in the future, don’t you?”
I grinned, laughed, just enough that I heard him moving. “I think it would be for the best, yes.”
His hand on the door handle, I could hear it, and I was up, on my feet, my hand on there too.
“Can I come in, Faye?”
I took a breath. “It’s your fucking apartment, Andy.”
The door swung open and he was there. His face a picture I’d never forget. Sorry, and relieved, and angry, and pissed off and sore and scared and all of those things at once. “Our apartment, Faye. It’s been our apartment since you got here. You don’t need a piece of fucking paper to tell you that. It just is.” He smiled, and he was more nervous than I’d ever seen him. “Stay,” he whispered. “Please just fucking stay with me, I don’t want to do this without you.”
“You did it just fine already,” I said. “You didn’t need me, Andy, you did just fine on your own.”
“I did need you. I just made do. And now I know just how much better it is with you back here I don’t want to do it alone. Please, Faye, just fucking stay. I’m asking you to stay.” He raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to fucking beg, is that it? Because I’ve got a pretty sore fucking asshole, and my knuckles are pounding like a bastard, and I’m tired, and fucking achy, and my back is covered with fucking war wounds.” He rolled his eyes, “But I will beg, if that’s what it will take to get your crazy fucking ass back in my bed where it belongs.”
“Beg,” I whispered. “On your knees.”
He sighed. “You’re pushing your fucking luck, Faye Devere.”
He knelt for me. Andy Morgan knelt at my fucking feet, and he brushed his fingertips up my thighs, and pulled me close. “Stay,” he said. “Please, for the love of God and everything fucking sacred, for my sake, for your sake, for our fucking club’s fucking sake, please just fucking stay with me.”
I laughed, and it was a good laugh. A happy laugh. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and held him tight.
So fucking tight.
It felt so fucking right.
“Is that a yes?” he said.
“It was a yes ten minutes ago.” I smiled. “I just wanted to hear you beg.”
***
Epilogue
Andy
“Here,” I said. “Just so you know.”
She leaned across me, staring at my screen.
Faye Helena Devere, Director. All in black and white. All official.
“Good,” she smiled. “About time.” She sat herself down on my lap, her face in mine. “I’m thinking dirty Karaoke,” she said. “Friday night special, once a month.”
I pulled a frown. “I’m not sure that’s really Explicit, Faye, it seems a bit more pint of cheap bitter down your local than classy sex club.”
“I think it could work.”
“I think you’ll have a load of drunks considerably more interested in spanking than singing. I think it will be a waste of good time.” I brushed her pretty mouth with my thumb. “Good time you could be putting to much better use, Faye. There’s a whole pile of insurance documents in the cabinet that need sorting.”
“They do, do they?”
“Yes, partner, they do.”
“Shame,” she said. “I had other things planned.” She went for my belt, nimble fingers making light work of it, and then she lifted herself, enough to free my cock and work it in her dirty fucking fingers.
“That’s foul play,” I groaned. “You can’t just solve every fucking difference of opinion by going for my prick.”
“If it works,” she smirked.
I hitched up her skirt, then teased her perky little nipples through her corporate bitch blouse. Her term, not mine. “Two can play that game, sweet thing.”
“Fuck,” she smiled, and she was horny, really fucking horny. “This isn’t going to end with a clear winner, you know that, right?”
“I’m sure of it.”
“I want Dirty Karaoke. You can do the insurance forms.”
“No deal.”
“Yes deal.” She smirked. “We’ll play for it.”
“Play for it?” I laughed. “And what are you suggesting? We could put it to a member vote, see what they have to say about it…�
�
She shook her head, and her eyes glinted like black diamonds, filthy and devilish and just the way I fucking loved them. Just the way I loved her.
Her karaoke night was already in the bag, but I wasn’t telling her that, not yet. She adjusted her panties, lowered herself onto my dick, and smiled her most devious smile.
“Coin toss,” she said. “Winner takes all.”
“Brave move,” I said. “You’re really willing to risk your karaoke night on a coin toss?”
“No.” Her pretty smile lit up her mouth, and she fucked me slow, so fucking slow I could hardly stand it. “The karaoke night is already mine, you know it, and I know it. The coin toss is for something else entirely.”
“Cocky today, Faye, you’d better watch you don’t end up with a sore fucking backside for your cheek,” I groaned. “What something else is on the table exactly?”
“Topaz’s sweet little virgin ass,” she smirked. “Winner takes it, first go.”
I reached for that fucking coin.
***
THE END
Acknowledgements
As always, there are so many people to thank! I’m beyond lucky to be able to live my dream, and it’s thanks to the support, skill and enthusiasm of those around me. I have no words for how much it means.
Massive thanks to my editor, John Hudspith. Johnny, you never fail to amaze me with both your talent and your support. I appreciate all the stops you pull out for me, and I know there are a shit ton of them. It’s been a crazy journey, and I’m so glad you’ve been there every step of the way.
Another big thanks to Letitia Hasser for her awesome cover. Letitia, you’ve done me so proud with this series, I will always be eternally grateful.
Tracy, well, what is there to say other than that I love your face, woman. You are tireless and fantastic. I’m honoured to have you as my PA.
Alex and Lisa, the brainstorming and support have been incredible. I’m blessed, truly, to have your wonderful family in my life. You mean the world.
Andy, for teaching me that it’s ok to knock heads in business and move past it. I love the way you inspire me – you do, so much – and I also love the ways you challenge and drive me forward. Thank you for your faith, and for your friendship.
Siobhan, my lovely friend and writing buddy. Thank you so much for inviting me into your wonderful home, the inspiration for Vincent’s retreat. You live in paradise and I’m so honoured you invited me into it.
My street team and Dirty Bad girls, particularly Lesley and Michelle, thank you all so much for everything you do. Your support means so much!
To the wonderful blogs and reviewers who support my work, you are all incredible. Thank you so much for everything you do for me! I am grateful for everything, so much.
So many friends – Maria, Kirsteen, Dom, Kate, Emma, Nicola, Jo, Jason, Azalea, Paula. Thank you all!
To my wonderful cruise buddies, you all made the trip so memorable! Steve and Mandy, Ray and Jackie – it was amazing. Thank you!
And last, but obviously not least, my amazing family – Mum, Dad, Brad, Nan, and of course, Jon. Your unwavering love and encouragement means everything. Truly. I love you all.
About Jade
Jade West is as filthy as her books would suggest. She lives in the heart of rural Herefordshire, writing Dirty Bad stories and contemplating just how many rooms in her house she should paint red.
You can find Jade over at:
www.facebook.com/jadewestauthor
www.twitter.com/jadewestauthor
www.jadewestauthor.com
Other books by Jade:
Dirty Bad Wrong
Dirty Bad Savage
Dirty Bad Strangers
Plaything (with Jason Luke)
