asking. Paul could've kept me without much effort, but he

didn't.

He let me go.

"I'm not sure there are any slots left in the program."

Vivian, for al her bravado, couldn't meet my eyes when

she spoke. She toyed with her files, her pen, the pad of

paper on her desk where she'd ostensibly taken notes

during my interview, but where she'd realy only scribbled

and doodled. "I'm afraid you should've applied sooner,

Paige."

"Vivian," I said calmly. "I know why you wanted me to take part in the program."

She looked up, her eyes narrowing. "Oh?"

I nodded and let it sink if for a minute before she spoke

again.

"Your qualifications are average," she said flatly. "But you come highly recommended."

I happened to be confident my qualifications were not

merely average, but I didn't push her on it. "I'm also the

best candidate you have for this program."

"You can't know that."

It was only a guess, but her answer told me I was right.

No matter how much she'd wanted to get me away from

Paul and under her thumb instead, she also had to hire

candidates who could do the work. I also knew this was

an in-house program, open only to current employees, that

even if it was "better" than being an executive assistant, it was stil considered entry level, and I could've counted al

the people working there who'd be interested in applying. I

didn't care if it was arrogant to say I was the best choice.

It was true.

Vivian cleared her throat and put down her pen. "What

does…Paul…say about this?"

I didn't miss the way she lingered on his name. "He's very

supportive of me."

"And you'd be wiling to leave him?"

"I wouldn't be sitting here if I didn't intend to take the job."

Again, she cleared her throat. I wanted to feel sorry for

her, but nobody had made her start an affair with a

married man. Knowing Paul the way I did, I doubted he

was even the one to initiate it. Hel. Even if he had, anyone

with two brain cels to rub together should know better

than to poach.

"I'l let you know," she said finaly.

I knew better than to poke. I stood and offered my hand,

which she took as though the gesture surprised her.

"Thanks for your time."

"I'l let you know," she said again.

"I'm sure you wil."

She opened her mouth as if she meant to say more, but

closed it abruptly. Without another word she bent back to

her work and I left her to it. I passed Brenda in the hal,

and she gave me a squinty look.

and she gave me a squinty look.

"Were you just talking to Vivian?"

"Yep. Is that where you're going?"

She nodded. "I hope she hires me, Paige. This is my

second interview for the program." She paused. "I thought

you said you weren't interested."

"Things change," was al I said.

Brenda nodded. "Yeah, I guess they do."

"Good luck," I said, and meant it.

"You, too," she said, but probably didn't. "Though I'd be

—"

She stopped. I waited.

"Brenda?"

She shook her head, then gestured me closer. "It's just

that…wel, you know. I didn't think Vivian would want to

work with you because of you know what."

I kept my expression neutral. "No, what?"

I kept my expression neutral. "No, what?"

"Paul," Brenda whispered harshly. Her eyes glittered.

"What about him?"

"She…and him…you know."

"I realy don't," I said calmly. I wasn't about to give her the satisfaction.

"Don't you? Because everyone knows they are…?"

I studied her, wondering if she and her "sweetie" ever did it doggie-style.

"Or were…?" Brenda lilted, waiting for me to respond.

"Not a clue what you mean, Brenda."

She frowned, maybe unwiling to go there. "Oh, okay, if

you hadn't heard. But people are saying it, so I thought

you knew."

"What would that have to do with me, anyway?"

Brenda looked uncomfortable. "Wel, you have lasted

longer than any of his other assistants."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Not that I think you and Paul," she said. "You know."

I lifted my chin toward the bathroom at the end of the hal.

"I have to run. Good luck with the interview."

She nodded and turned on her heel. I watched her for a

moment before I went into the bathroom, where I ran cold

water in the sink and dampened a paper towel to press to

my forehead and against the back of my neck.

I wasn't my mother, but nobody here knew that. Months

ago I'd have been sick to my guts thinking anyone believed

I was fucking my boss, but now it simply didn't matter. I

knew the truth. So did Paul. Paul, who I was leaving.

I didn't need to use the toilet, but I went into the stal

anyway. I put the lid down and crouched there, my head in

my hands. I took a deep breath, but the scent of ammonia

and those nasty pink toilet cleaners overwhelmed me and I

covered my nose and mouth with my hand. I tried to catch

a whiff of Austin, but could only faintly smel the lotion I'd

smoothed on this morning.

smoothed on this morning.

I could remember, though. How he smeled. How he felt

and tasted, and not just because of last night and this

morning.

From before.

Austin's behind me, his breathing heavy like he'd just

run up the stairs. He's got his hand wrapped in my

hair, tipping back my head so it's hard for me to

swallow. His prick jerks inside me, but he's not

thrusting right now. He's close to coming.

I am, too.

"Pul it," I tel him. "Harder."

His fingers tighten but he doesn't pul. "I don't want to hurt

you, Paige."

I want him to hurt me. He's bigger than me. Stronger. He

holds my heart in his hands every day and doesn't break it,

at least not very much. But I want him to hurt me now, in

this moment, when my cunt is clutching on his cock and

I'm ready to burst into an orgasm that wil blind me. I don't

know why. I just want it, and I want Austin to be the one

know why. I just want it, and I want Austin to be the one

to give it to me.

"Pul my fucking hair!" I grit out the words around a groan.

His fingers tighten as he pushes inside me, then puls out,

but he doesn't do more than tug. This boy has tackled

other boys on the footbal field hard enough to break their

bones and knock them out. I know he could pul my hair

harder than he is.

He fucks into me smoothly as his fingers find my clit and

his other hand releases my hair. My head fals forward. On

my hands and knees I can put my head down and look

under my body to see where he's joined me. Instead, I

bury my face in the pilow and lift my ass in the air, push

harder against him, force him to slam his body into mine.

It does hurt, but hurts so good. Pain and pleasure are

mingling. I've read about this but never understood it,

even though it made me creep my hands into my

panties and stroke myself into coming as I read. But

it's not quite enough, it's not what I really want. Or it's

not enough of what I want.

I pull away, leaving Austin muttering a complaint. I

I pull away, leaving Austin muttering a complaint. I

roll onto my back and hold him off me with a foot on

his chest. His cock is huge and wet from me, and I

think about taking it in my mouth. Right now. He'll

taste like me, and I shudder at the thought as my

fingers move to cover my cunt. I press my palm

against my clit and pleasure jolts through me.

I get out of bed and he follows when I crook my finger.

We've fucked in the living room before. I stand in the

cool air with the windows open and without blinds,

showing me off to anyone who might look through. We

live on the third floor, which make voyeurs unlikely,

but I'm still aroused at thinking we might be giving

someone a show.

Austin smiles and moves toward me. Step and step and

one more, and my back hits the old plaster walls we've

never painted. His hands fit my hips just right. His

knee nudges my legs apart, and his thigh presses

between mine. He kisses me.

"What are you doing?" Austin says, laughing.

"Fuck me." My voice shakes.

His brow furrows for a minute, but only that briefly. Then

he's got his hands under my ass and has lifted me, my legs

around his waist, my back against the wal. His mouth

seals mine before I can take a breath, and I can't breathe.

His kiss steals my air.

My heart beats fast in my ears and the world rushes

around us. Austin fucks me and I try to take another

breath but his lips are closed tight over mine, his tongue

fucking my mouth the way his prick fucks my pussy. I'm

drowning in him. In this. In us.

I break the kiss with a gasp and now I understand more

about the alure of pain. "Put your hand on my throat."

"What? No." Sweat gleams on his forehead.

"I want you to do it, Austin."

Both of us can barely speak, our bodies using al their

energy for the fucking and leaving little for conversation. I

dig my nails into his shoulders and rock my hips, getting

closer. I close my eyes. I want him to do this, give me

what I want. What I think I want, anyway. What I want to

try.

"Put your hand on my throat!"

"Fuck…Paige…" He's getting close, and soon it wil be

too late. He'l come, I won't.

My eyes open and I bear down on him, my legs around his

waist. "I want you to do it!"

"I don't want to hurt you—"

"It's sexy," I argue.

He'l have to put me down soon. He's got me braced

against the wal, but even Austin isn't that strong. I bring his

face to mine and kiss him. And then I make him give me

what I want.

"If you don't, I can find someone who wil."

"What?" His eyes fly open, the pupils wide and dark. He's

so close he can't keep his hips from moving, even though

he wants to stop. I see it in his face. "What do you mean,

you'l find someone—"

"Maybe I already have. Did you think of that?" The lie,

cruel, pushes from my mouth.

cruel, pushes from my mouth.

I see him thinking about it, as best he can anyway with the

blood pooling in his cock and orgasm clouding judgment.

How things have changed lately. How I've wanted

different things…and where I might have learned to want

them. From who.

He doesn't know about the books I've found, ordered

from overseas, or the Internet chat rooms where people

address each other as Master and Mistress or Slave.

Austin doesn't know this part of me that wants to explore.

"Maybe I've been—" pleasure chokes me "—fucking

around."

"Have you?" He's angry in an instant.

Oh, how wel I know him.

I don't answer, but my head tips back again. My eyes

close. I'm going to come. My back skids suddenly along

the plaster as Austin shifts.

"Paige! Goddamn it!"

"Put your hand on my throat," I whisper.

"Put your hand on my throat," I whisper.

And Austin does.

His hand can't close al the way around my neck, but it's

big enough to come pretty close. We move together,

sliding as sweat makes us slick and fucking leaves him

unsteady. Something rips into me. A nail left from a picture

knocked off the wal when once I slammed a door. I can't

cry out, I can't breathe, he's done what I asked and taken

my breath again.

Austin's fingers close tighter and my fingernails dig deeper

and we both come at the same time. Only after that does

he put me down, his hands shaking, and then sink to the

ratty tied-rag rug that always manages to slip out of place