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He let out a pissed off sigh. “Fucking hell, Faye. What are we doing here? We can’t work.Thiscan’t work. You’ve rocked up with a whole fucking bag of chips on your shoulder, straight back into a club I’ve been running perfectly well on my own for three years, thank you very fucking much.” He ran his fingers through his hair, exasperation mingling with rage. “For someone that claims to have spent so much time wanting more and doing nothing about it, you made short work of inciting a full-on fucking pain session in the playroom. What the fuck was that all about?”
I took a seat in the chair opposite him, making sure to keep my distance. The hackles on my neck were well riled, heart thumping with anger, and defensiveness, and a whole lot of pent-up lust. “I changed in Venice. Vincent changed me. Taught me. I’m not the girl who left here. I’m not afraid to go after the sex I want with the people I want.”
“I can’t see what the fuck Vincent taught you. You didn’t come back with the manners of a decently trained submissive. Ormannersin general, for that matter. Some fuckingmasterhe is.”
“I have manners, you just don’t bring them out of me,” I said. “We’re both pissed off, both aggravating the shit out of each other constantly. There hasn’t been much call for pleasantries since I’ve been back.”
“I don’t think we can work together, Faye, not as an even partnership. Probably not at all. We’ll ruin each other, and the club with us. That’s the sad fucking truth of it.”
I tried not to let his words sting, but they hurt. I forced the humiliation aside and met his eyes with fire in mine. “You really think that? No bullshit this time, Andy. For real?”
He was quiet for a few seconds. “Yes, I think that.”
“You really do seriously want me to leave? Just walk away like I never came back?”
“Fuck him. That’s how you felt when you left. Why should I want you back? The hard work’s been done. AndIfuckingdid it,” he snapped.
And then there were tears. I could feel them behind my eyes. Feel the choke of hurt in my throat. Suddenly the whole thing felt ridiculous, every little fantasy I’d had as I’d run away from Vincent turning to dust. I battled against it, long enough to initiate one final showdown.
“If you’re really serious, then I’ll go,” I said. “This is your chance. Tell me to leave. Tell me you never want to see me again. If you mean it, I’ll leave.” I grabbed my handbag from my desk. “I’m tired of trying to make it up to you.”
“Fuck off with the victim act, Faye. I don’t have any violins,” he said. His eyes were cold and angry. “You haven’t even tried to make it up to me, not even close. I doubt you ever could.”
“Fine. I’ll go. Permanently this time. Forever.” I stood up, digging around my handbag for an age before I found the cold metal jangle of my keyring. My copy of the staff key took forever to come off its ring. Andy watched me with a stoic expression the entire time. He said nothing.
Nothing until I’d slammed the key on his desk and reached the door on my out.
When Andy Morgan spoke next it was an angry snarl in my ear, loud enough to give me shivers. The door slammed shut, trapping me back inside as he forced the weight of his body against mine.
“You aren’t going fucking anywhere, Faye Devere.”
***
Andy
She was trembling. Buckling beneath her stupid fucking bravado. Three years hadn’t mellowed her any. She was the same flighty, highly-strung little bitch that I’d signed the lease papers with. The same little bitch with the same smart mouth.
Fuck him.
The words fuelled the anger in my gut. Years of resentment pounding behind my eyes.
“You aren’t going fucking anywhere, Faye Devere.” A little squeal as I took her wrists and pinned them at her sides against the door, my breath in her ear. “It’s time you learned some fucking manners.”
I eased up enough to spin her to face me. Her eyes were wide and shocked, lips slightly parted and begging to be bitten. She gasped as I ran my tongue across her mouth, squirming against the swell of my cock at her belly.
“I won the fucking coin toss. This ismyfucking week,” I growled. She tasted of anger and hurt and lemon alcopop. She tasted fucking delicious. “You cannot even comprehend how fucking pissed off I am.”
“Show me,” she breathed. “Just fucking show me.”
She folded so perfectly across my desk, grabbing hold of the edge as my hands hitched up her skirt. Her legs were perfectly toned, with just the slightest shadow of bruising remaining from our playroom session. I hooked my thumbs in the thin fabric of her panties, slipping them down around her thighs. They were beautifully wet, clinging perfectly to her clammy skin. She groaned as I pinched the ripe flesh of her arse.
“Stay still,” I told her. “Don’t you dare move a fucking muscle unless I tell you, understand?”
She nodded, gasping as I leaned down to nip at the tender flesh of her thigh. She shifted her legs apart, just enough that I could savour the pretty pink lips of her pussy. I slipped my fingers through her silver pussy rings, tugging until she squirmed. “When I’m in charge, you will fucking act like it. You will show me some respect. No fucking backchat, no fucking hissy fits, no fucking interfering.”
I unbuckled my belt slowly, taking my time to ensure she’d hear me. She glanced back over her shoulder and her cheeks were flushed pink. She looked divine, dishevelled and flustered and embarrassed all at once. She looked like the girl I’d jacked off to far too many times. She looked like the same fucking girl who’d bailed on me and hadn’t given a shit, whose sweet flesh needed the pain of remorse.
I looped the belt in two and held it in front of her face as she stared up at me with big dark eyes. “Kiss it,” I said. “Then you’ll say fucking please. Please, Andy, thank you for teaching me some fucking manners.”
