On the Edge (The Grange Complex Book 1)

Chapter 13

Sasha

“You’re fucking unbelievable Barbie! You fucked me last night and you’re already going out with some

loser?” Dexter shouted, not caring for the world that Alistair was standing right next to me. This was the

last thing that I was expecting tonight. Alistair wanted to see the apartment, so I invited him upstairs.

That was a big big mistake.

“Dexter, what I do is none of your business. One night with you doesn’t give you the right to tell me who

I can go out on a date with!”

“I didn’t say it did, but you should know that I own your pussy. This asshole won’t fuck you the way I

have, he won’t feel the same when he sides into you, he won’t make you wet like I do”.

“Mate, I suggest you–”

“Shut up fuck up dickweed, no one is talking to you “mate.” Her sweet pussy belongs to me and only

me,” Dexter roared, cutting Alistair off and taking a step towards him, with anger burning in his eyes.

Oh boy, this is just great.

Two men were eyeing each other like two lions during mating season, ready to rip into each other’s

throats. I was partly flattered and partly angry that Dexter thought that one night with him gave him a

right to tell me with who I could go out with.

Alistair ’s face flushed red and my pulse sped up with anxiety at how Dex was behaving.

“Alistair come on, let’s go,” I hissed knowing that Dexter was ready to punch my date. I shot him a

furious glare and started dragging Alistair away, before this whole thing got out of control.

Dexter slammed the door to his apartment, swearing under his breath. I decided to take the stairs to

avoid any other surprises. I wanted to disappear into the ground with embarrassment.

Alistair was silent all the way back downstairs, but he stopped me just before I wanted to get into the

taxi.

“Did you really sleep with that guy up there?” he asked, looking at me like I’d beaten up his dog. I

sighed and wondered what was I supposed to say to him? I couldn’t lie. Alistair was sweet and decent,

but my body craved bad mouthy Dexter.

“It was just one mistaken night that meant nothing to me. I don’t normally do that and I really want you

to take me out on a date, if you still want to that is?”

I saw hesitation in his eyes that was soon replaced by smile. Alistair was handsome and well

mannered, the kind of guy that I should have gone for in the first place.

God, what was wrong with me?

“Of course,” he said confidently.

We jumped into the waiting taxi in absolute silence, I was trying to act like earlier encounter with Dexter

had never happened, but deep down I knew our date was already spoiled. The conversation in the taxi

was stunted and awkward, although Alistair managed to make me laugh a few times. My head was

somewhere else and things hadn’t improved when we got to the restaurant. The waiter mixed up our

orders, so we had to wait an extra hour for food, and by that time we were both starved and pretty

annoyed.

He dropped me home by ten and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. I kept apologising, trying to tell

him that I normally didn’t do one night stands, but he kept saying that he wasn’t judgmental. Alistair

was a gentleman, but he didn’t say if he wanted to see me again or not.

When I took the lift back to my apartment, the corridor was silent. I had no idea if Dexter was in or not.

At least he wasn’t waiting for me this time. After I drank a glass of white wine I went to bed, thinking

about the feel of Dexter’s skilled hands on my skin.

He woke me up early the next morning; his bedroom shared a wall directly next to mine, so I heard as

he slammed the door back and forward. When I glanced at the clock, I saw that it was only 4.00 am. I

tossed and turned drifting back to sleep half an hour later.

I finally got up around eight. It was Tuesday and I knew that if I didn’t talk to him right away, my whole

day would be ruined. I knew a really great coffee place a couple of miles away from the complex. This

was a good way to bring him back to being my friend. I thought that we both needed to set things

straight and talk about Dexter’s expectations of me. We hadn’t set any particular rules, and we had only

slept together once, so I didn’t understand why he was so angry that I went out on a date.

I pulled on an old pair of jeans and T-shirt, took my car key and headed out. I decided to walk through

the concierge area to check if there was any post for me. I was waiting for a few papers from the

solicitor.

It was just after eight and I wasn’t expecting anyone in the concierge this morning, but there was a dark

haired woman talking to Duncan. She looked pretty pissed off. I started reading the flyers on the desk,

waiting for her to leave. When I looked closely I finally recognised her from Harry’s party. She was the

brunette that Dexter disappeared with just before my dance.

“Mr. Tyndall is my bloody fiancée. I don’t understand, how could I not be on the list?”

I slowly turned around, knowing that I couldn’t have misheard what she said. Dexter was engaged. I

stepped towards them feeling like all the air was suddenly punched out of my lungs.

“Dexter, you want to speak to Dexter Tyndall?” I asked, just to be sure.

“Yes, finally there is someone here that understands what I want,” she complained, glaring at Duncan.

“In that case, I’ll take you to him. I’m sure he’ll be glad to see his fiancée,” I chipped in, a fake smile

forming on my face even though I was ready to scream, shout and scratch her face with my sharp

nails.

I hadn’t had the chance to really look at her at the party—I was too busy avoiding Dexter—but now she

was standing right in front of me and I hated to admit that she was stunning. Her thick black hair fell in

luscious waves around her shoulders, her skin was clear and bright, and she wore a white dress that

hugged her slim body amazingly well. Her manicure was perfect and she wore hardly any make-up,

which was even more annoying.

I would never look like that, not even after hundreds of plastic surgeries. I knew that it was just sex

between me and Dex, but I despised stinky, slimy lies. I thought that finally, after so many years of

listening to the same bullshit, I had found a guy who was upfront about everything. He wanted to screw

me without any expectations and I was okay with it, but the freaking fiancée? Hypocrite! How dare he

be angry about Alistair ?

“And you are?” she asked with an indifferent tone of voice. She was English, a Londoner just like me.

This couldn’t get any worse.

“I live right next to him. We’re neighbours. I bet he will love the surprise,” I added and started walking

away. She strolled casually after me, but didn’t say anything else. The ride in the lift was long and very

awkward. She was doing everything she could in order not to look at me.

“Okay, I’ll take it from—”

“Hold on.” I cut her off and barged into Dexter’s apartment. I didn’t have a clue if she was following or

not, but I wanted to serve him the best wake-up call that I could think of. He was up at 4.00 am, so now

he was probably back in bed, catching up on his sleep. He wasn’t in the living room, so he was

probably still asleep. I proceeded to the bathroom.

I found a tall glass and filled it with ice water, not even thinking about what I was doing. Anger was

crashing through me like the tall waves on the shore. This time I didn’t plan to simply walk away and

bury my head under the sand—I was ready to give him hell.

“What on earth are you doing?” she shouted when I came out of the bathroom, heading towards his

bedroom.

“Oh, nothing. Sleeping Beauty is still in his comfortable bed, so we need to wake him up,” I sang and

barged through the door. The model was saying something to me, but I wasn’t listening. I poured the

water straight onto his gorgeous, lying, deceitful face.

He roared like a tiger on the prowl, jumping off the bed still naked and soaked right through, shaking his

head. My insides turned into mush, but that wasn’t the time or the place to look at his glorious tanned

body. Dexter was a bastard and a liar.

“What the fuck, Sasha? Have you lost your fucking mind?” he shouted, not paying the slightest

attention to the fact that he wasn’t alone. I refused to acknowledge his massive, slightly erect dick.

“Oh sorry, did I wake you?” I asked sarcastically. “I just wanted to let you know that your fiancée is here

to see you!”

Dexter’s face went wild, the muscles on his jaw tightening. Finally, his eyes registered the stunning

brunette in his bedroom. I was ready to smash his windows with a baseball bat. I wanted to tear him

apart, not because I was weak enough to have slept with him, but because he was a fucking liar.

“Hello, darling. My pussy has missed you,” the model said with that sweet tone that made me

nauseous. I was out of the door before I had a chance to listen to their bitter exchange, but I still heard

his loud roar.

“Get the fuck out of my apartment, you stupid bitch!”

He seemed angry, but I bet that he was ready to fuck her in the same bed where just the other night he

had fucked me. I couldn’t stand there. I wasn’t jealous, just really pissed off with the fact that I fallen for

his charms. I should have gone out with Alistair weeks ago, before Dexter came along.

When I got into the car park I wasn’t thinking straight. A year ago I probably would have cried in shame

and horror, but right now I needed to drive for a while to think about what to do next.

Memories of that day from nine months ago were pulsing through me like a drumbeat, every thought

pounding in my brain. Kirk was the guy I had been ready to spend the rest of my life with. I loved him

so much that it physically hurt.

Betty was sick, so she had cancelled my training session for that night. I was more than disappointed,

as I was hoping to try a new advanced routine on the pole. She didn’t know that I had been practising

at home. Kirk was out catching up with a friend from work. I didn’t want to be stuck in front of the TV for Belongs to NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

the rest of the evening, so I decided to head to my best friend Jessica’s house.

Over the past few months, Kirk hadn’t been the same. He was acting cold and distant, like we were

strangers, not two people sharing their lives together under the same roof. We hadn’t talked much and I

felt neglected when he didn’t want to have sex. Whenever I asked him about it, he kept saying that it

was just stress. Apparently, he was working on a new project at work.

I was worried about him, so I gave him the space that he needed. It was all right to feel worthless once

in a while, but this had been going on for months now. No relationship was perfect, but we were going

through a pretty rough time.

Jess was probably sewing tonight and I needed a friend that I could talk to about this stuff with Kirk, so

I took the bus to her place. It was a freezing cold November night; there were supposed to be snow

showers that evening.

When I finally got to her street, my fingers were numb. I wasn’t even sure if Jessica was home. Luckily

for me, there was a dim light in her bedroom. We had been friends since kindergarten—she had eaten

and slept in my parents’ house often enough. Mum always treated her like another daughter. So I didn’t

knock, but walked in knowing that she wouldn’t mind.

Jess was such a messy freak. There were clothes on the stairs: a pair of underwear and a man’s shirt.

The living room was in a bit better state, but it was empty. I put my hands to the radiator, hoping to

warm up a little. I was just about to shout when I heard noises coming from upstairs.

I hesitated, wondering if maybe I shouldn’t have just barged in unannounced. In the past few months

she had been acting weird, asking me to call before I showed up. I stood on the bottom of the stairs for

about thirty seconds, wondering if I had the guts to check out if she had company. Jess didn’t have a

boyfriend. She was a party girl and she liked her independence.

“Fuck, Jess—you’re so fucking amazing. I want to come on your tits.”

I froze, wondering if I was having hearing problems. I knew that voice, but something was wrong. Kirk

didn’t swear and he didn’t talk dirty in bed. I laughed nervously to myself, not wanting to believe they

were capable of hurting me so viciously. I picked up the man’s shirt and smelled it. My stomach

revolted and my heart started skipping beats.

No, no, no—this wasn’t happening to me. Not again and not with my best friend.

I shot up the stairs; I had to know for sure. When I opened the bedroom door I saw Kirk pounding

himself into Jessica, the sweat gathering on his back, her head thrown back in ecstasy as she gripped

the back of his head with one hand and twisted the sheets with the other. I stood there staring at their

display, feeling as if all the air had been sucked out of the room leaving me dizzy and nauseous.

My best friend and my boyfriend were fucking. I had no idea how long I stood there watching them, but

eventually she noticed me and screamed. Kirk jumped out of the bed.

“Sash, what the fuck? What are you doing here?” he shouted. No stuttered apology, no hasty

explanation, just a stupid question barked at me like I was in the wrong for interrupting them. This was

just getting better and better. I was shaking, sinking into a deep, open black hole of pain. Three years

ago my life had fallen apart and now it was happening to me again.

“How long? How long have you two been sleeping together behind my back?” I asked, tears streaming

down my cheeks. I didn’t want to cry. Kirk was unmoved, staring at me with cold indifference on his

face.

“What the fuck do you want me to say? You’re so boring, always whining that no one cares about you.

And the sex. God, Sasha, always the same, monotonous. At least Jess is adventurous.”

My mind snapped back to the present. I knew that I shouldn’t be driving and thinking about the past at

the same time, but I couldn’t stay in the apartment. That night, Kirk had moved out of the flat that we

had shared together. He hadn’t become violent then—oh, no. That was a few weeks after I caught

them. Kirk was my third serious boyfriend. The one before that also cheated on me, also with a girl that

I was friends with.

I put my foot down and drove around the coast, feeling depressed about this whole thing. With Dexter it

was just sex, and now that he had managed to bang me, I was ready to find a cash buyer and sell the

apartment. I’d had enough of being treated like a punching bag. This time I was stronger and Dexter

was going to regret that he had lied.

Dexter

“Are you fucking deaf? Get the fuck out of my apartment, Victoria!” I roared, ready to hit her. I was so

fucking pissed off with her shit that I didn’t care anymore that she was a woman.

“Go on, throw me out, but I remember what you did six weeks ago at the party. I’m sure that the police

would be very interested in my statement,” she sang, looking over her nails.

I was in front of her, still naked, before she had a chance to hiss. My face was inches away from

hers. “What the fuck are you talking about, you bitch?” I demanded. My head was clear as a whistle.

For the first time in ages, my thoughts weren’t fucking racing. The party in London—yeah, I was there

with her, but I had no fucking idea what she was talking about.

“You did something really, really bad and I bet that you don’t even remember it,” she whispered. She

wasn’t intimidated by me for some reason. I’d never laid a finger on a woman, but Victoria was testing

me. I wanted to rip her face off with my bare hands. “I’m not like the rest of your women. You can’t just

toss me away when you’ve had enough. You will regret that you ever got rid of me.”

“Are you fucking threatening me?” I asked, not backing up. I could just wrap my hand around that little

throat and squeeze it. My brain was trying to bring up that party in her house, but my head was blank.

I’d had some pills and probably a whole bottle of whisky. I didn’t remember shit.

She started backing away from me towards the living room, still smiling. Why did I have to bang her?

She was sending me off the rails and she had scared Sasha off.

“I’m reminding you of what you’re missing out on,” she snapped. “I want you, Dexter, and I’ll have you

in my bed again.”

“Fuck off or I swea—”

“Go on, finish it. Bury yourself further with threats,” she challenged, then turned around and walked out

of my apartment. The water was dripping off me and I was staring at the fucking door. What was she

accusing me of? A rape? An assault? I had no clue. The problem was that I didn’t remember that night

at that party.

My head had been screwed—I drank to shut down the voices in my head. I might have had sex then,

but hell, I had no idea what I’d done. The bitch wanted to bring me down.

Sasha and me—fuck.

She’d poured cold water on my face. I was ready to kill her, but then images from the other night began

floating in front of me. Her soaking wet pussy and me, fucking her slowly. It was the best sex I’d had

since I could fucking remember.

I almost forgot that I saw her last night with that asshole. She had arranged a fucking date with some

ginger haired douche and I had nearly lost my shit. This woman was infuriating and I didn’t know why I

even cared. She was just like others, but every time I closed my eyes I had her in front of me. The sex

was better than I anticipated, Jesus that was an understatement and I wanted to do it again; have her

again, possess and devour her body. When I glanced down at my cock I realised that it was already at

full mast. I was pissed that she ditched me so quickly for someone else, furious with the fact that I was

being replaced. She was the only girl that stunted that crippling hollow feeling. She was my

healer.