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)
He fastens me into the mask, a half-face of black and white feathers and swirling glitter. I’m pulled to my feet, my hands so small in his.
“Keep your eyes on me,” he smiles. “Remember, you sacrifice your body for my pleasure.” He kisses my cheek, and I’m smiling again. “Showtime,” he grins, and pulls open the curtain.
So many eyes, so many hands, and I’m lost. I drop to my knees, cry out at the vicious fingers on my breasts and between my legs.
A woman’s tongue against my lips. “She tastes so sweet,” she laughs. “Open wide.”
Her fingers prise my mouth open and a dick fills it. My eyes dart around as I suck. Musky, thick and deep, my eyes stream as I retch, and people are laughing. My heart pounds as I catch sight of Vincent, he’s a few feet away, not far. I cry out for him, but it’s muffled by the cock in my throat. The bodies shift between us, and I see him more clearly.
And her, I see her, too. The same woman it’s been every night this week.
Her ass slams against his stomach as he fucks her, and she grunts like a pig, her big tits swinging under her. She’s biting her lip, and he’s pulling her hair, pounding her pussy as another man pounds mine.
Our eyes meet and he smiles, blows me a kiss and puts his hand on his heart. “Beautiful,” he mouths. “My beautiful Magpie.”
Someone stretches my arms, shackles me to a bar, and my legs are spread wide.
“She’s crying.” Someone laughs. “How pretty. Let’s give her something to cry about...”
I smile before the whip cracks, and keep my eyes open long enough to watch my lover come in another woman’s pussy. His face turns red, eyes screwed shut, and he’s groaning, pulling on her hair.
Jealousy pangs fresh, all over again.
Two years I’ve been in this place. Two years at his side, in his bed, in his arms.
I’d begrudge nothing... not the parties, or the pain, nor the women wrapped around his cock, moaning as he fucks them, grinning as he spills his seed inside...
If only he’d fuck me too.
***
Faye
I kicked off my heels in the taxi, blisters killing worse than any bruises. The dawn was already breaking on a chilly Sunday morning. I was knackered, exhausted, run ragged by a Saturday night shift behind the bar. It was heavy going, I must have walked ten miles and then some. Ten miles in six-inch stiletto heels. I don’t know how the other girls kept so bouncy.
The taxi pulled up outside my hotel and I limped my way across the pavement. Reception was closed, and I let myself in through the dim foyer, creeping upstairs to my room. It was nice, clean. Cream and tasteful, without any clutter.
I flopped on the bed, a starfish on the duvet, contemplating falling asleep where I was until my mobile started up. My heart leapt until I recognised the London code.
“Hello?”
“There’s more to bar work than swanning off as soon as the doors close.”
I groaned. “It’s gone six a.m. I’m tired, Andy. Really tired.”
“I’m wiping down your bar.”
“I already wiped it down.”
“You didn’t do a very good job of it.”
“Sorry, Mr Perfect. Maybe you should take over the bar and I’ll piss about in the office all day.”
“I don’t piss about.” He sounded tired. Grumpy.
“Couldn’t this have waited until later?”
I heard him take a breath. “You didn’t say goodbye.”
“And?”
“Are you leaving or not?”
I draped an arm across my eyes to block out the light. “Is that what you want? Seriously?”
“Are you fucking off again, Faye? Just answer the question.”
I sighed. “I didn’t come by the office this evening because I didn’t want to see you. You don’t know when to stop with the mouth.”
“Neither do you.”
He had a fair point. “I’m not leaving. I’ll see you later.”
I went for the cancel button but he was speaking again before I pressed it. “Why did you leave Italy?”
I brought the handset back to my ear. “Sorry?”
“What happened in Italy, Faye? Why did you come back?”
The slur in his voice, only just detectable. “You’ve been drinking.”
“Answer the question.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I grabbed a pillow, propped it under my head and folded the duvet over me. “I’m going to sleep.”
“How can I trust you won’t walk out again if I don’t know why you’re here?”
“You’ll just have to take my word for it. We’re both adults, Andy, we’ve both got skeletons in the closet.”
“The thing yesterday, what was that about?”
“The sex, you mean?” My stomach fluttered. “It was about nothing. Forget it happened. I have.”
“I think that’s a lie.”
I stared up at the ceiling. “Is this a thinly veiled attempt at phone sex? I’m too tired for this shit.”
He paused for a long time. “Come back to the club. We’ll drink whisky, you can tell me about Italy, and I’ll fuck you until we pass out.”