Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“And what spirit would that be?”
“I submit to you when it’s your turn in charge, genuinely.”
“You’re a fucking submissive, Faye, it’s what gets you off. I don’t need to read any of Vincent cunting Blackthorne’s books to know that shit.”
“I’m not just a submissive,” I said. “Not anymore.”
His face was a picture, tired and fed up and exasperated. “What are you, then? You want to be my domme? You want to play the big bad business partner who’s going to fuck my ass when things don’t go your way? I’m not down for those kind of games, Faye. I honour the coin toss, but that’s all. I’m no submissive, and these games are temporary.”
“And that’s why you summoned me in here?” I smiled, bitterly. “You summoned me in to tell me that you won’t take it up your ass. You’re pathetic, Andy, you really are.”
“I asked you in here to establish the basis of our relationship. The strap-on is one of the finer details.”
“Fine,” I snapped, and I was angry again. So fucking angry with him, with Vincent, with this whole bloody situation. “If you can’t give me the same respect I give you, then it’s over. I want someone who can open their horizons for me, explore their sexuality, put themselves on the line.”
“Alright, Vincent. You sound just fucking like him, you know. Especially when you’ve got a fucking crop in your hand. Is that what you’re trying to do? Dish out the kind of shit he gave you? Is that what turns you on? It fucking creeps me out. He’s fucked up, Faye, his approach is full of perverted shit.”
“It’s not shit!” I sneered. “To be a submissive you have to give up the mind, Andy, the chip on your shoulder, the snipes and the bitterness and the negative self-talk. You have to give up your mind and expose your soul, and it’s beautiful. It’s so beautiful. I want a man who can join me there, who can give me that. Is that too much to ask?”
He laughed, and it was the death blow. “You are so fucking dramatic, Faye. Pull yourself down from the fucking ceiling and stop all the stupid fucking flouncing.”
“I’m not flouncing. This stuff is real. It’s important to me.” I stared at him, at his hard shoulders, the tension in his jaw, the shadow of stubble, the dark eyes. At the way he was staring at me, angry and impatient and ready to lash out. He wasn’t submissive. He wasn’t even close to trying. “What’s going on here is nothing,” I said quietly. “It was a mistake.”
“A mistake? We’re a mistake now?”
“Yes, a mistake. I’m here for the club, not for you.”
He tilted his head from side to side. “Fine. So, what was I? A rebound? A cheap distraction? A fucking joke?”
“Something like that,” I scoffed.
“And that’s it? You don’t get your way and it’s over? Done?”
I shrugged. “You’re the unreasonable one.”
“No, Faye, I’m not. You’re the one who wants everything on her own terms and wants it yesterday. You’re the one who stormed in like a whirlwind, without so much as a fucking explanation as to why you were back. You’re the one who demanded the position you so easily deserted. You’re the one who initiated this fucking way of solving our differences, and now, after everything I’ve done to humour you, you’re still a little bitch with her ass in her hands.” His breath was ragged, angry. “You’re right. It was a mistake. It’s fucking done.”
Tears pricked but there was no way I was crying. I forced them back. “Fine. Suits me.”
“Suits both of us.”
“Good. It’s the right call.”
“Definitely,” he snapped. “I’m glad we got that cleared up.”
“What about the coin toss? Don’t think I’m losing my weeks because they no longer include sex.”
“We still toss. Rules still apply.”
“Great.” I forced a smile. “Well, we’d better get on, then. I’ll go back to the bar, I was working on cocktails.”
He gestured I was free to leave. “Be my fucking guest.”
***
It shouldn’t have bothered me. It was the right call, the sensible call, but still I festered all day. My cocktails were a disaster, and Topaz was quiet, keeping her distance as though I was in danger of exploding. I felt like it.
How fucking dare he? Cocky fucking bastard.
He’s the one who always wants everything on his terms, not me.
Mid-afternoon and my mobile erupted with Facebook notifications. Bird in the Bush was live on Amazon, available for the public a week earlier than expected. The world went Vincent Blackthorne crazy, racing to download their copy and dive into the next sordid Magpie instalment. They’d get their money’s worth with this little number.
They’d get their rocks off, and Andy would find out why I’d left Italy. He may find out through a tatty page of highlighted text in Topaz’s paperback copy, but he’d find out. It was only a matter of time.