Dirty Bad Secrets

by West, Jade

  I collapsed onto his chest, and he gritted his teeth at the pain as he folded me in his arms. I listened to his heart, and it was booming. His breath deep and fast.

  And then I giggled.

  And he laughed.

  And the whole thing seemed hilarious, euphoric, ridiculous.

  “You are officially fucking crazy.” He smiled. “I’m telling you now, Faye Devere, whatever just happened was fucking insane.”

  “Good insane,” I grinned. “We like good insane around here.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “There’s no way I’m kissing you, not after that. Not until you’ve washed your dirty fucking mouth out with bleach and a hundred fucking Hail Marys.”

  “Oh yes you are,” I laughed and planted my lips right on his.

  It turns out he was lying.

  ***

  Faye

  I loved the man. I loved the man. I loved the man.

  And he loved me.

  Let’s face it, nobody takes a dirty kiss like that unless it’s the real deal.

  And he’d taken everything from me. Everything.

  I watched him dress with a smile on my face. It was a slow process, with a lot of expletives, but he managed to pull off sexy businessman just fine with a sore ass and a back full of sex bruises. It was good to know.

  “I need to clean up,” he said. “I’m going to get blood on my shirt otherwise. I don’t want to look like I’ve been in some crazy street fight.”

  “I’ll meet you in the office.” I smiled. “I’ll clean up here, don’t worry.”

  “I wasn’t going to worry,” he smirked. “That’s definitely your fucking mess, Faye. Just make sure nobody comes in here until you’re done.”

  I looked at the mat. “This may take a while.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” He grinned and pressed his mouth to my forehead. “I’ll see you in the office, yes?”

  I smiled. “I might have a dance on the way back.”

  “Fine. I’ll be waiting.”

  He unlocked the door and stepped outside and nobody would have been any the wiser of his little escapade. It made me smile.

  I looped the telephone cable into a ball, and gathered up the lube and the strap-on and dumped them back in the box, starting in horror as some poor unsuspecting deviant tried the door. It was still open.

  “Room’s busy, sorry!” I called. “I’ll have it ready just as soon as I can.”

  I closed the box, shielding the toys from view, and just as well I did, as the person had taken no fucking notice whatsoever.

  I pasted on a smile as I turned to face them. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I will be as quick as…”

  My heart stopped. It stopped dead.

  The mask was intricate, professional, authentic… and terrifying.

  Terrifying because of the man underneath it, not because of its smiling moon face.

  “Good evening, pretty bird,” the man said. “It appears someone’s been a very, very naughty girl.” He turned the key in the lock and dropped it into his pocket. “And we all know what happens to naughty girls now, don’t we, Magpie?”

  ***

  “You can’t be here,” I said. “He’ll kill you.” My voice sounded more confident than I was, but still I was backing away, short little steps until I pressed up against the flogging bench.

  He took off the mask, dropped it to the floor. “Tut tut, Magpie, you really think I’m afraid of Andy Morgan? He’s hardly intimidating, pretty bird. He’s very much the reserved type, I feel, all work and no play.”

  I was shaking, but I couldn’t show it. I mustn’t show it. “You really don’t know him, Vincent. I think you should go.”

  “You’re quite right, Magpie, I don’t know him.” His smile was nasty. Horrible. “But neither do you.”

  “Of course I know him,” I spat. “I know him better than you could possibly know.”

  Vincent looked so big in here, so broad. He filled the space, made it hard to breathe. He looked about the room, and I looked to the door. It was heavy, there was no way I’d get through it without the key. “How are you enjoying your little dash back to England, Faye? Is it everything you hoped for?”

  “More than I hoped for.” I smiled. “I belong here, Vincent. I always belonged here. This is my club, my place, my life. All of it, right here.”

  “Your club?” he said, and his eyebrows were raised.

  “Yes, Vincent. My club, and I’d like you to leave it now.”

  “That’s a funny thing, pretty bird, because I checked out your club, your beautiful Club Explicit.”

  “Good for you, you checked it out. Now leave!”

  He dug in his pocket, and for a second I thought he was relenting, going for the key, but he pulled out a piece of paper instead. He held it out. “Andrew William Morgan,” he smirked. “Sole Director. The records make it very clear whose club it is, Magpie, and it’s not yours. You’re not even listed, you haven’t been a director for almost three years.”

  I laughed. “Whatever you say, Vincent. I’m sick of being manipulated by you, those days are done.”

  “Read it for yourself, sweet one. It’s right there, in black and white.” He tossed me the paper and I couldn’t help but catch it. The official logo was clear, and my hands shook as I unfolded it. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of such terrible news.”

  He was right. He was horribly awfully fucking right. My blood chilled, but I kept up my bravado. “I knew about this,” I said. “A paperwork error.”

  His eyes met mine. “When did you learn to lie to me, pretty bird? That isn’t how we work.”

  “I knew,” I said, but my eyes were welling. “It’s my club, Vincent, just fucking leave.”

  “It isn’t,” he snarled, and he was at me, on me, pressing me back over the bench with his face in mine.

  “Get off me,” I hissed, but my legs were shaking, buckling. His presence was so familiar, too familiar. “I mean it, Vincent, leave me alone.”

  “I’ve missed you.” His mouth was hot on my neck. “I’ve missed you so much, pretty bird. You did this on purpose, didn’t you? You wanted me to run after you. Don’t worry, beautiful bird, I’m taking you home, and you’ll never leave my side again. I’ll make sure of it. We’ll keep you caged, where you belong.”

  “No.”

  “Oh yes, Magpie. Yes.” His fingers on my thigh, sliding up. I tried to push him away but he was solid. I squeaked as they reached their target, he forced them between my thighs, rubbing at my clit.

  “No!” I cried. “No! Vincent, I don’t want you. Not anymore.”

  “Then why is your cunt so wet for me?” he snarled. “Oh, pretty bird, you are so beautifully fucking wet for me.”

  I met his eyes, and I wish I could have burned him. “I’m not wet for you.”

  It angered him, and he hurt me, forcing his fingers inside. “Dirty, nasty little shit,” he seethed. “You fucking betrayed me. You took his fucking cock, didn’t you?”

  “I love his fucking cock.” I was vicious, incensed, even though I couldn’t fucking move from him. He punished me for it, slamming his fingers in to the knuckles.

  And then he noticed. His mouth turned down, eyes wild. “Your rings. Where are your rings?”

  “In the fucking sewers where they belong.”

  His hand was at my throat, pinching me. “You are punishing me, Magpie, I know. I need to explain myself, I know I do.”

  “There’s nothing to explain.” I screwed my eyes tight against the pain between my legs, such familiar pain. “You sold me. You used me. You let them fuck me, not for love, Vincent, not for pride, not for fucking becoming. You let them fuck me for money.”

  “You do not understand, Magpie, not yet, but you will. It was my greatest sacrifice, to put a value on my most treasured possession.”

  “You let them hurt me for money!”

  “I let them set you free, pretty bird. You felt their love, I know you did. You wanted it. You wanted them.”
>
  “I wanted you.” And I was crying. Hot wet tears of regret and shame and pain. “I did it for you.”

  “And I did it for you,” he snapped. “You are so ungrateful, Magpie. Didn’t I give you enough? Enough love, enough sex, enough filthy fucking cock? I gave you so much, Magpie, why did you need to come here for more? Why? Fucking why!?” He shook my throat and squeezed my pussy hard.

  “You didn’t give me love,” I cried. “You just gave me fucking pain.”

  “I gave you liberation!” he yelled. “I gave you all the pleasure the human body can stand!” He gripped my breast, twisted hard.

  “I don’t want this,” I hissed. “Whatever you do to me now, I don’t want it.”

  “It was a terrible betrayal to take out your rings, pretty bird, but don’t worry. I’ll give you new ones. I’ll give you ten, twenty, I’ll pierce your dirty cunt so many times that there’s no way you could ever take them all out. I know how much you liked it. I’ll get Cynthia to help, and she’ll make it slow, sweet girl, so slow, so fucking painful. Just how you fucking like it you filthy little slut.”

  His thumb was on my clit, his fingers twisting deep, and he knew me, he knew me enough that my body responded to him. “No,” I said. “Please stop.”

  “You want it. You want the love, you want the pain. Your body wants me.”

  “No.”

  “It always wanted me, pretty bird. All those times you hurt until you cried, and all those times I made it better for you.”

  “You didn’t make it better.”

  “Oh, I did. Just like I will now.” His breath on my face, I turned my head away. “Open your legs,” he said, and I heard fingers at his belt. “Don’t fucking deny me, Magpie, or you know what I will do to you. You know what happens to sluts who displease their master.”

  “You’re not my master.”

  “And he’s not your partner.” Strong hands pulled my thighs apart, and I froze. Lost. “You don’t belong here. At least you know what you’re getting with me, Magpie. You know the beautiful truth of the love we share. That man is a liar.”

  “You lie, Vincent.”

  “Give yourself to me,” he said. “And I won’t punish you.”

  It was a losing battle, and I knew it. My knees couldn’t get leverage to kick out, and my wrists were pinned as soon as I went for him. My brain unravelled, like a fine thread, and I was laughing.

  “Kiss me,” I said. “Show me how much you love me before you fuck me.”

  “Oh, pretty bird,” he growled. “That’s a good girl.”

  My mouth went for his, and I hoped he tasted all of it, every filthy part of Andy Morgan.

  ***

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Andy

  I winced as I lowered myself into my seat. Jesus Christ, she’d fucked me good. I was already thinking up all the ways I’d pay her back, all the delicious ways I’d make her body worship mine. Submitting to Faye Devere wasn’t all that bad.

  This arrangement might just fucking work.

  There was only one seedy little fly left in the ointment, and I woke up my laptop to check on its status. With any luck we’d be home and dry, and life could carry on like it should have done three years ago, before that twisted sack of shit ever tempted her away. I pulled up his website and checked his events page, hoping at least some of them would have been cancelled. They would be if he had any sense in his pathetic skull.

  But they weren’t. They were all still listed. Every fucking one of them.

  Stupid fucking tosser.

  Topaz flew through the door without so much as a proper knock. She was definitely getting too fucking big for her little boots.

  “Haven’t you heard of privacy?” I snapped.

  She caught her breath. “I’m sorry, Mr Morgan, but we’ve been looking for you everywhere. The dancefloor’s flooded, someone’s twisted an ankle over by the main stage, at least three bottles have been smashed by the bar, and Demelza’s lost some of her new induction members. We’ve both been looking for you. We couldn’t find you anywhere, either you or Faye.”

  I held up a hand. “Alright, alright, just calm down.” I made to close the website, but the scrolling comments section at the bottom caught my eye.

  Disgusting! Master Blake should be ashamed of himself. I hope she never goes back to him, you filthy fucking pimp!

  I scrolled down, and amongst the gushing I loved it so much, best book ever, there was another.

  Selling a woman for sex is never for love. Disgusted reader.

  I could feel Topaz’s eyes on mine. “What is it, Mr Morgan?”

  “Have you read Bird in the Bush, Topaz? The new one?”

  Oh her face, it turned fucking crimson. “I… um…”

  “You’ve read it, haven’t you?”

  “Oh, Mr Morgan, I didn’t want to get involved!” She covered her pretty eyes.

  “Did he sell her for sex, Topaz?”

  She didn’t say a word, didn’t even move and I lost my fucking temper. “Did that sack of fucking shit sell Faye for sex, Topaz? Yes or fucking no?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “That’s what it says.”

  “And you didn’t think to fucking tell me?”

  She shrugged, pitiful. “I only just read it, it wasn’t my place!”

  “Did she know about it? Did Faye know that dirty cunt was fucking selling her?”

  “No,” she said, and her eyes were glassy. “She didn’t know, that’s why she ran… in the book. In the book she thinks she’s doing it to please him, out of love, only one of the guests asks her for extra, a one on one… he asks her how much, and then she knows… she runs…”

  “In the fucking book,” I spat. “In the filthy twisted fucking book. How many times?”

  “Sorry?”

  “How many times did he do that to her? Once, twice, three fucking times? More?”

  “More,” she said. “I don’t think you should read that book, Mr Morgan, even I didn’t finish it.”

  I jabbed a finger through the air. “I want your copy of that fucking book on my desk first fucking thing.”

  She nodded. “Ok, Mr Morgan, I’m sorry.”

  “Not as sorry as he’ll fucking be when I get my hands on the cunt.” I scrolled back up to events, checking out his next venue, and that’s when our cosy little duo became a trio. Demelza came dashing in.

  “Mr Morgan…” she began, but I held up a hand.

  “I know, I know, Topaz has been filling me in. I’ll get on it in a fucking minute.”

  I was shaking with rage, my ears fucking ringing, and Topaz, bless her ditzy little socks, she took the fucking reins like a trooper.

  “Don’t worry, Demelza,” she said. “I’ll give you a hand, just until Mr Morgan is ready.”

  Demelza sighed. “It’s not normally a problem, it’s these masks, I can’t tell who’s bloody who tonight.” I felt her eyes on me, and turned to see her pouting. “And these weren’t put on the system properly,” she said. “I didn’t have any photos for this batch.”

  “My bad,” I acknowledged. “I was a little distracted when I last processed them.”

  “Who’s missing?” Topaz said, cutting my pathetic apology short.

  Demelza flicked through the sheets. “I had four new starters, two came straight to me, I found one about fifteen minutes ago, and that was all good, but I can’t find this guy. George Frederick Winstanley.”

  “Sorry?” Topaz said, and she was quick, ripping that sheet straight out of Demelza’s hand.

  “What?” I said as her blushed face turned to fucking snow. “What is it?”

  She put her hand over her mouth and her eyes were pools of fucking dread. “George Frederick Winstanley,” she said. “That’s Vincent Blackthorne’s real name.”

  ***

  “Go!” I shouted. “Demelza get the fucking door team, get them to lock the main doors. Hell, get them to lock every fucking door. I want nobody in or out. Nobody, understand?”

&
nbsp; She nodded, as white as Topaz. “Yes, Mr Morgan.”

  “Now!”

  She dashed off, and I was already calling up the security feeds, but the fucking masks everywhere made it hard.

  “I’ve been looking for her,” Topaz said. “I couldn’t find her.”

  I called up the camera to playroom four, but it was on a different circuit, it took a minute to fire up. My breath fucking stopped when the picture cleared, and there she was, I could only see her legs behind him, but I could see well enough to know she was pinned fucking solid. I leapt from my chair with hardly a fucking wince, the adrenaline was already rushing, pumping like a fucking piston.

  “Where is she?” Topaz asked. “Is she ok?”

  I didn’t answer. I was already off, racing down that corridor without a shit for anyone. The door was fucking locked, cunt. I smashed my shoulder into it but it wouldn’t budge.

  “What shall I do?” Topaz arrived, panting. “What shall I do, Mr Morgan? You don’t think he’ll hurt her, do you?” She clutched her hands across her mouth as I slammed into the door again. “Please God, don’t say he’ll hurt her.”

  “It’ll be the last thing the cunt ever fucking does,” I snarled, then realised I was running out of fucking options.

  Demelza rushed up, out of breath. “They’re securing the doors… they’ll be up soon…”

  But I didn’t have fucking time for soon. I ran my fingers over the hinges. I’d need tools. My mind was scrambling through options, no other entries, no vents, no fucking anything.

  “FAYE!” I screamed. “I’M RIGHT OUTSIDE THIS FUCKING DOOR!”

  I heard her shout something but it was muffled. I could have thumped my own fucking head in frustration, trying to work out how the fuck to get through that fucking door.

  It turns out saviours come in the weirdest fucking disguises. A hulk of muscle, inked with a dragon, a black leather mask covering half his face.

  “Hey,” he jogged up. “What’s going on, Morgan? Is Faye in there?”

  “In there with Vincent fucking Blackthorne, the cunt from Italy. She’s locked in.” I was pacing, but there was nowhere to go.