Bring on the Psychobitch (Some Girls Do It Book 3)

by May Sage

  “Let me grab you one. Then, I’ll come back and start working on the whole groveling thing. You don’t have to keep your clothes on for that part.”

  Lucy

  She wasn’t going to lie: Trick did have a perfectly adequate groveling technique. She’d considered obeying his request and getting undressed, but if he wanted a submissive, he was barking up the wrong tree.

  “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

  The notion seemed to amuse him. He strolled to her, and got on his knees, before slowly, sensually removing her shoes, then her pantyhose.

  “I’ve never been easy.”

  “Very well. If you want to call the shots, let’s see what sort of a submissive I am, shall we?”

  He started at the very tip of her toe, kissing it, as his thumb did a sinful thing, digging into her foot.

  She was pretty certain she wasn’t supposed to pant and moan so early in the game.

  “What the fuck is that?”

  “Worshiping,” he replied, lifting his head to smirk at her. “Get used to it.”

  “Used to… Fuck!” she screamed as his tongue ran over her smooth skin, while his hands massaged her legs. What the fuck was this? Not sex. She’d had sex enough times to know that this didn’t qualify.

  “Not quite yet, sweet. But trust me; when we fuck, you’ll know it.”

  He took his time; she wasn’t sure how long, but what felt like years later, she was ready to beg.

  “Trick…”

  “Lucinda,” he replied, pushing her silken dress up slowly, stopping when it had reached her hips.

  Fuck, the man knew exactly what he was doing. She cursed herself, half wanting to rewind back to the start and take her damn clothes off, half dying to see what else he could do with his sinful hands and mouth.

  “Please.”

  He knew how hard it was for her to get the word out, if his expression was any indication.

  Bastard.

  “Oh, I aim to please you, sweet thing.”

  “You aim to drive me to madness until I relinquish control.”

  At least, he had the decency to admit to it, shrugging, “Same difference.”

  Asshole. His head between her legs, he dropped sweet, slow kisses over her panties, that annoying smirk getting bigger each time she clenched her hands. She could take this. Right?

  “It wouldn’t be quite so bad, Lucy-mine. You get to wear the trousers outside these walls, I’ll never even try to take that from you. I don’t need to be in charge, unless we’re like this.”

  On that note, he stopped over her clit, pulled her flesh through the thin material, capturing it between his lips and sucking. Hard.

  She screamed. She screamed bloody murder, so loud she expected his neighbor to knock any second now.

  “I’ll let you in on a secret, sweet thing. If it was up to you right now, I’d be buried to the hilt inside you, and you’d be screaming my name. But you’ve demanded control. And whoever’s at the bottom wins the game.”

  “That makes no fucking sense!”

  “Doesn’t it? Do you feel in charge now?”

  She didn’t, not even a little bit. She was desperate for him to stop, carry on, go faster and slow down - not sure what was happening, going with the flow, attempting to somehow remain sane.

  “Kneel for me, Lucinda,” he told her, giving her an out she wasn’t sure she could take. “Let me take charge. Let everything go, and trust me to give you what you want.”

  That didn’t sound that bad, now, did it?

  Fuck. Was she really considering this?

  “I’m not even into kink.”

  “Nor am I,” Trick replied, making her snort.

  Yeah, he could have fooled her.

  “But you were always going to try to top me, like you just did. I simply made a point. In the bedroom - or I guess, the lounge, in this instance - I’m the one with the dick. And I know how to use it.”

  That made her look down to the tent in his pants, and clenched in anticipation.

  There was no doubt in her mind; if she insisted, he would carry on driving her to madness, without giving her what they both wanted, to make a fucking point.

  He’d acknowledged she was in charge everywhere else, but he wanted this; he wanted her to show him she was…

  What? His play thing? His to control?

  Who cared, really. She shifted her weight and moved her legs under her ass, adopting the unfamiliar, uncomfortable position he’d requested.

  She knelt - or something close to it.

  “Good. Now, let’s take care of those clothes, shall we?”

  As though she’d been a child, he made her pull her arms up and glided her dress up, taking a second to look at her in her matching bra and panty set - black and simple; the boring stuff she wore at the office.

  “Stunning.”

  The compliment vibrated against her core, making her feel a million dollars.

  “We’re going to do this a few times,” he announced. “And we’ll do it right…”

  If she wasn’t mistaken, his hand was shaking when he moved to push a tress of red hair away from her shoulder.

  “Later.”

  Then, he was done talking, or teasing, for that matter. His lips crushed to hers, his hands dug into her hips, pulling her up, and he sat down on his sofa, before placing her on top, never stopping their tantalizing kiss.

  The large warm hands caressed her back, held her neck, went down to the bra and skillfully unclasped it, letting her annoyingly heavy breasts free.

  Trick’s mouth left hers, heading right to her engorged nipples, as one of his hand plunged into her soaked underwear.

  “Ahhhh…”

  He curved two fingers at once, getting them inside her with ease.

  “You’re already ready for me, sweet thing.”

  She’d been ready for him for hours. Years, really.

  “Let’s not make the lady wait any longer, then.”

  Shit. She had no idea when he’d unzipped his fly, but the next second, he’d pushed the lacy fabric aside, and he was inside her.

  Holy…

  Trick was delightfully thick, stretching her - so much so she didn’t manage to accommodate all of him at first. He swallowed her gasp, as slowly moving his hips back, and then going in a little further each time they moved up.

  Lucy met his thrusts when the shock subsidized, curving her hips to get him just at the right angle.

  She couldn’t help burying her head in his throat, and sniffing him like the weirdo she was, not even ashamed: he smelled so fucking good, lickable. So, she did just that, the tip of her tongue darting out to taste him.

  Trick grabbed hold of both of her hands and held them in place behind her back, before losing it, pounding hard from underneath, groaning, moaning.

  “Come with me, sweet thing. Come now.”

  She did. Every time he told her to, that night, she did.

  Trick

  So, he apparently wasn’t as smart as he’d believed he was - or he might not, otherwise, currently look like one of the Weasley brothers; with a bad case of diarrhea, to boot.

  They’d fucked three times that first night; then, she’d been so tired she’d let him make love to her. The day after, after coming on his fingers in the copy room, she made him promise he’d keep his hands, mouth, tongue, and dick away from her at work. He reluctantly accepted under the promise that she would let him come on her tongue later.

  And she did. After getting the whole you’re clean, right? out of the way, ballbuster Lucinda Warner sucked him dry until he came in her mouth, and all over her face, too.

  The six subsequent evenings occurred in a similar fashion, filled with sex, sex, and a little more sex, but each night, when he couldn’t come again if his life depended on it, she got up, got dressed, and went home. He saw her flinch when he tried to kiss her in public.

  So, in his infinite wisdom, Trick thought it preferable to take Anna to the Stewart gallery
opening. He wasn’t even sure how to broach the subject with Lucy, as she seemed so adverse to making what they had anything other than casual.

  Turned out, it had been a dick move.

  “She’ll cut your balls out,” Carter said, when he finally fessed up to the whole situation with Lucy.

  He didn’t exactly have a choice: she’d gone to Carter and had all of a sudden requested a day off, and to be reassigned to him immediately. Carter had granted both, before calling him, to pry information out of him.

  Asshole.

  “Look, I didn’t think she’d care. I genuinely didn’t - you should see her expression when I even attempt some PDA.”

  “So,” his friend helpfully summarized from the other end of the phone, “you’re telling me that you’re at a salon, getting your hair dyed back to its original color, and you have to use their toilet every other minute, because she somehow made you take laxative.”

  “Yes. Strong ones, too.”

  He had no idea how she’d done either, but the text he’d received this morning had made it clear that she took responsibility for both.

  Enjoy looking stupid and feeling like shit. Don’t call me.

  It had taken him a while to connect the dots - and yes, he’d called in the meantime. Seventeen times, according to his phone’s records.

  “Well, I’ll be honest, I didn’t see that coming,” Carter mused. “You’re so uptight some times, and she’s…”

  Insane. Insanely beautiful. Positively perfect - when she didn’t lose her damn mind.

  “I’m not gonna lie: good luck getting her to even speak to you now. But if you actually are into her, I think you should - and quickly. Before she puts her walls up.”

  “Carter, riddles really aren’t helping.”

  “She cares.”

  Trick’s mouth dropped open.

  “I know her as well as most people and trust me when I say, she doesn’t usually give a damn. About anything, or anyone, save for a very, very short list of people. Me, of course, and her goddaughter. Her friend Piper, too. And… I think that’s actually it. She has a few cousins, but I had to bribe her to go spend Thanksgiving with them, so let’s just say, she isn’t one to let people in. But if you’ve hurt her so much she’s actually planned a retaliation, instead of waiting for an opportunity to present itself? Yeah - she cares.”

  Dammit. Girls should come with a personalized How To guide.

  “So, what do I do now?”

  Carter didn’t have any answer. By the end of the weekend, though, Trick did.

  He went shopping on Monday, which meant he was out when one of his old friends called to ask for help.

  The impromptu meeting, which involved beer, too much food, and the realization that he wasn’t the only one whose life was taking a turn for the weirder, was exactly what he’d needed. By the time he made it back to Harris Toys, he was relaxed, and the utterly insane idea that had been formed sometime over the previous twenty-four hours suddenly made sense.

  The elevator took its sweet time, taking him to the last floor, and when he got there, there were people in the lobby. Typical.

  There she was, in a cream sheath, chatting away with another stunning redhead, who was standing next to Nathaniel Knightley. The mysterious wife, probably.

  She turned to him and glared, before immediately returning to her conversation - her smile was forced, strained.

  It was torture, but Trick leaned on the wall, biding his time. But the guests lingered, and lingered some more.

  Fuck that shit.

  He just gave up, and walked right to her, ignoring the looks everyone sent him when he grabbed hold of her hand and pulled on it, until she turned to him.

  “What the hell are you…”

  He got his phone right in front of her face, and pressed to unlock it.

  “This is Anna, from the creative department. I’ve known her for twenty years. My brother went for a summer camp when he was nine, and he begged until my parents let him bring his friend home with him. She’s spent her holidays with us ever since,” he said, scrolling through the family album, to let her see them - Finn, Anna, and him - grow up together. “So, yes. When it was evident that my stubborn girlfriend didn’t want to be seen in public with me, I thought it best to ask my almost-sister to accompany me.”

  Lucy’s eyes had lost some of its coldness, and gained some surprise, but it wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.

  “We’ve done this your way until now. I’ve only put my foot down on one thing - one thing that works.”

  He wasn’t going to elaborate - but there was no denying that the sex was out of this world, between them, because she let him do as he pleased. She trusted him with her body.

  “But that’s it, Lu. I’m not letting your issues get in the way of us, not anymore.”

  He knew he was the insane one when he dropped one knee down; and if that wasn’t enough, the chorus of holy fuck, coming from Carter, Lucy, and just about everyone else in the room, made that perfectly clear.

  “I haven’t given you any reason to make you believe I want this. Twelve years ago, I left and I didn’t think to call you until I came back to NYC. Six years ago, I acted like an entitled prick who believed he was better than you. This is me, now. I’ve grown up and I know what I want.”

  He fetched the black box in his pocket, and opened it in front of a ring - it wasn’t diamond, because years, and years ago, she’d said she couldn’t recognize a fake from the real thing; that they all looked gaudy in any case. So, he’d purchased a vintage golden band with an emerald stone, the same shade as her eyes.

  “I want you to take this home and put it next to your bedside table. I want you to wake up, one day, when you want to, and put it on. When you do - when we’re on the same page - I’ll be waiting.”

  He managed to keep his smirk in check as he walked away, ignoring the chorus of applause coming from the bystanders. They had no idea. The show was far from being over…

  It took about twelve seconds - he’d just reached the elevator when it happened, heels clicking on the marble floor at high speed, a familiar smell reached his nostrils, and small, yet strong arms wrapped around his torso, pulling him close. He didn’t have to look down to see his ring on her finger.

  Checkmate.

  Epilogue

  Lucy was sitting straight, her legs crossed; it was evident that she was attempting to stay on her best behavior.

  Trick couldn’t help smirking, wondering how long it would last.

  “You do realize,” his mother sweetly said, purposefully ignoring his fiancee, “that by marrying this unsuitable nobody, you’ll be giving up on your inheritance, Patrick.”

  That did get Lucy’s attention; she turned to him, eyebrow raised, and mouth ever so slightly opened.

  Of course, many would wonder why, as a successful business owner, he might even care about the said inheritance, but Lucy didn’t need to ask, as they were currently sitting in what could be called nothing other than a palace; mansion wasn’t giving a suitable visual.

  The Johnsons had billions; billions Trick had taken for granted; he knew exactly what to do with them when they were his to spend - the first thing he’d do would be to sell that obnoxious, cold, ridiculous house, and then, he had approximatively ninety seven causes to support. The rest, of course, would be divided between his future children, so that they might have a head start in life, like he did. Sure, plenty of people managed to rise from nothing, but he and Carter would agree that a few hundred thousands did help, when you had a good idea, and the wherewithal to carry it out.

  “You father was quite clear in his stipulations. He gave you three suitable choices, and said that if you didn’t find any of them to your taste, you were free to choose whoever you pleased, as long as I agree,” Arabella Johnson stressed.

  Yes. They’re really gone back to the Middle Age.

  “Excuse me,” Lucy interrupted her, waving her hand, and smiling sweetly.

  Dear god.
Trick wasn’t sure if he should hide or clap from the side line.

  His mother reluctantly turned to her, her glance making it obvious that she didn’t consider her worthy of her time.

  “Children,” Lucy deadpanned, making Arabella gasp. “I’m sure we’ll have some eventually. I’d just like to point out that while you may hold money over your son’s head, he’ll pick me. He picked me knowing you’d be an absolute bitch - hey, I totally owe you a head for that one, by the way,” she added, winking his way before redirecting her attention to the woman who was likely to have a heart attack within a few seconds. “So, we’ll live happily ever after, and we’ll probably pop out a couple of ginger kids, too. Just saying - if you ever want a chance to meet them, you may want to remove that stick from your ass, and start acting like a decent human being.”

  Arabella took a while to regain her composure. When she finally did, she rang a little bell, calling to her butler.

  “Arnold dear, would you bring me something a little stronger than tea? Oh, and that box containing the family jewels, too. It seems we’ll need to pick out a set of wedding rings for Patrick.”

  The End

  NOTE FROM MAY

  I hope you enjoyed Bring On the Psychobitch.

  I have written these novellas for my own enjoyment, because I believed every reader out there wanted to read about my fairy tales – but I like contemporary romance too, so here we are.

  However, you have made it abundantly clear that you enjoy these books – thanks to the amazing amount of reviews I’ve received on Scrooge McFuck. I still can’t really believe it, you guys were all incredible.

  All of that to say, as you like these contemporary romances as much as I do, they’re now penciled in my schedule and they will also be longer.

  Tentative Reading Order – feel free to ignore the release dates as I will release them earlier if I can.

  Shy Girls Write It Better