Authors: Jade West
“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.
She dropped them into the toilet without hesitation, without a word, without so much as a sound, and I pressed the flush and sent those seedy little rings right where they belonged. We stood watching the water take them away, her head against my shoulder and my arms around her waist and there were no words needed. No words that would have cut it.
She was deep in thought when I coaxed her back to bed, following meekly with dainty little steps. I pulled back the bedcovers and welcomed her inside, and then I made her come, as promised.
It was slow and tender, my mouth guiding her to orgasm with absolute concentration, absolute care, and when she crested it was beautiful, her fingers against my scalp, kneading but not demanding, her pussy fluttering, wet against my tongue in a way that knocked my senses. She came hard but quietly, a sweet expulsion of moans as her hips rose from the bed, and then she was spent, loose-limbed with ragged breath, her fingers tickling my scalp as I kissed my way down her thigh.
My cock was hard, but I ignored it completely, climbing alongside her and holding her close, my legs hooked around hers, my arm around her waist. She wriggled back against me, and she sighed, wrapping herself so totally in my arms that my face was pressed to her hair, and her breath was hot on my skin.
And then she went to sleep.
But I didn’t.
I didn’t sleep a fucking wink.
***
Faye was quiet the next morning. We both were.
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.”