a drink.” His
tone was sugar, saccharine and all-out wheedling. “Let bygones be bygones. I’ll
forget how silly you’ve been. Roddy and Serena were asking where you were.”
Now they were getting
somewhere. His parents, who he always called by their first
names, had mentioned to Angie how pleased they were that their son had met her. Calmed him down. Steadied him. A good influence on him. Evidently her absence had been
noted and queried. Well tough, she’d moved on. Months ago.
“Angie, did you hear me? Stop
this nonsense. I gave you a year to get over your snit. Grow up and accept I am
who I am, and what we’re going to be. We’ll go to the Caribbean and start a new
life together. I’m well established there now. A man of
substance.” He puffed out his pigeon chest as best he could. It was a
pitiful effort.
She knew fine what he was all
right, and she was having no more to do with him. At least now she understood
why he’d been conspicuous in his absence. As for her accompanying him to the
Caribbean? What planet was he from? Angie was so angry she wouldn’t have been
surprised to see smoke coming out of her ears. She dug her fingers into her
palms to stop herself from forming a fist and using it. Only the thought that
she was going to be in big trouble with Sir already, without adding GBH to it, stopped her.
Sir had already given her one
punishment for opening the door without the chain on. As he said, chains had
many uses. She’d discovered another one that night. Angie flexed her wrists as
she remembered just how the chain held her whilst said punishment had been
administered. The fact the punishment was earned, and the make
up sex was more than interesting, still didn’t stop her from wanting to
rub her ass. Her Sir was very inventive.
If sodding Stuart hadn’t been
around she’d have gone into their room, turned on the video, and sent Sir a
video of herself and her bullet. Sir was very good at orgasm denial unless… She
dragged her pantie-dampening thoughts back to the here and now and the knotty
problem of how to get shot of Stuart.
“Stuart, I know exactly who you
are, and what we’re going to be. Watch my lips. You’re in the past. Well in the
past. I’m not going anywhere. It’s over. We are finished. Done, dead and
buried. You know your way out.” She turned her back on him, determined to
ignore hi m .
His hiss of breath showed how
annoyed he was. Okay, she should maybe try for a less aggressive approach, but
his hide was so thick you needed heavy-hitting words to pierce it. She might be
all-out submissive to her Sir, but never to Stuart. In their short-lived
relationship, Angie had just about gone giddy trying to be all things at all
times, especially doing her best not to show she was topping from the bottom.
“It’s over and you know it,
Stuart. Now, I’m busy.” Should she
mention the new and very important man in her life? She decided to keep him as
the surprise tough measure. Instead she smoothed the hair on the small wooden
angel she held to try and stop her hands from shaking. The wool was warm
between her fingers and she held on to it like a lifeline. Angie hated
confrontation of any sort, and this was not at all pleasant. She hoped she
wouldn’t be by herself with Stuart much longer.
“Put that sodding ornament down
and look at me.”
Angie ignored him and prinked
out the skirt on the old angel she was going to put on the tree. The glass
beads around the bottom could do with a clean before Angel Dora graced the
tree. Okay, Angel Dora had seen better days, and one of her wings was
definitely skewed, but she was part of the family and was said to even be older
than Angie’s gran. She was a family heirloom, tatty and battered or not.
“I said put it down.” Stuart’s
tone was sharp. He leaned forward, grasped her arm, spun her round, and tried
to pull the angel out of her hand. Angie held on for grim death.
“I ignored you. My house, my tree, my angel, my
tone was sugar, saccharine and all-out wheedling. “Let bygones be bygones. I’ll
forget how silly you’ve been. Roddy and Serena were asking where you were.”
Now they were getting
somewhere. His parents, who he always called by their first
names, had mentioned to Angie how pleased they were that their son had met her. Calmed him down. Steadied him. A good influence on him. Evidently her absence had been
noted and queried. Well tough, she’d moved on. Months ago.
“Angie, did you hear me? Stop
this nonsense. I gave you a year to get over your snit. Grow up and accept I am
who I am, and what we’re going to be. We’ll go to the Caribbean and start a new
life together. I’m well established there now. A man of
substance.” He puffed out his pigeon chest as best he could. It was a
pitiful effort.
She knew fine what he was all
right, and she was having no more to do with him. At least now she understood
why he’d been conspicuous in his absence. As for her accompanying him to the
Caribbean? What planet was he from? Angie was so angry she wouldn’t have been
surprised to see smoke coming out of her ears. She dug her fingers into her
palms to stop herself from forming a fist and using it. Only the thought that
she was going to be in big trouble with Sir already, without adding GBH to it, stopped her.
Sir had already given her one
punishment for opening the door without the chain on. As he said, chains had
many uses. She’d discovered another one that night. Angie flexed her wrists as
she remembered just how the chain held her whilst said punishment had been
administered. The fact the punishment was earned, and the make
up sex was more than interesting, still didn’t stop her from wanting to
rub her ass. Her Sir was very inventive.
If sodding Stuart hadn’t been
around she’d have gone into their room, turned on the video, and sent Sir a
video of herself and her bullet. Sir was very good at orgasm denial unless… She
dragged her pantie-dampening thoughts back to the here and now and the knotty
problem of how to get shot of Stuart.
“Stuart, I know exactly who you
are, and what we’re going to be. Watch my lips. You’re in the past. Well in the
past. I’m not going anywhere. It’s over. We are finished. Done, dead and
buried. You know your way out.” She turned her back on him, determined to
ignore hi m .
His hiss of breath showed how
annoyed he was. Okay, she should maybe try for a less aggressive approach, but
his hide was so thick you needed heavy-hitting words to pierce it. She might be
all-out submissive to her Sir, but never to Stuart. In their short-lived
relationship, Angie had just about gone giddy trying to be all things at all
times, especially doing her best not to show she was topping from the bottom.
“It’s over and you know it,
Stuart. Now, I’m busy.” Should she
mention the new and very important man in her life? She decided to keep him as
the surprise tough measure. Instead she smoothed the hair on the small wooden
angel she held to try and stop her hands from shaking. The wool was warm
between her fingers and she held on to it like a lifeline. Angie hated
confrontation of any sort, and this was not at all pleasant. She hoped she
wouldn’t be by herself with Stuart much longer.
“Put that sodding ornament down
and look at me.”
Angie ignored him and prinked
out the skirt on the old angel she was going to put on the tree. The glass
beads around the bottom could do with a clean before Angel Dora graced the
tree. Okay, Angel Dora had seen better days, and one of her wings was
definitely skewed, but she was part of the family and was said to even be older
than Angie’s gran. She was a family heirloom, tatty and battered or not.
“I said put it down.” Stuart’s
tone was sharp. He leaned forward, grasped her arm, spun her round, and tried
to pull the angel out of her hand. Angie held on for grim death.
“I ignored you. My house, my tree, my angel, my
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