by LP Lovell
Their gazes meet and something passes between them. “She's going to be a problem,” Preston says, dragging his gaze over my bare legs.
“Indeed.”
The rest of the ride is spent in tense silence. When we finally reach our destination and exit the limo, Tobias takes my hand. “You are here by choice. Try not to look like a prisoner.”
I glance up at one of Manhattan’s finest high rises as we approach the front. When the bellman opens the door to the opulent marble lobby, he greets both men but doesn’t bother to acknowledge me.
We take the elevator up to the penthouse. The doors open to marble floors and sleek leather furniture. Abstract art hangs over a stone fireplace, but most impressive is the brilliant Manhattan skyline glittering through the floor-to-ceiling windows that encircle the living room.
Preston heads down one of the hallways and Tobias takes me down another, leading me into a bedroom. I take note of the king-sized four-poster bed and crystal chandelier, the expensive-looking art decorating the walls, biting back the questions plaguing my mind. There’s rich, then there’s this.
“You’ll find everything you need in the closet.” Tobias motions to a door at the side of the room as he leads me into a bathroom. He opens the door to the biggest, most luxurious shower I’ve ever seen, then twists the taps. Water rains down from the shower ceiling.
“Get undressed,” he says.
An uncomfortable sinking feeling settles in my gut, but I steel myself. I signed the contract. I agreed to this. So I take a breath, look away from him, and lift my dress over my head then strip out of my bra and lace thong.
“Look at me.”
I meet his intense gaze. Something seems to constantly swirl within his eyes; something that goes beyond mere power or wealth—a master of something. Tobias's gaze drifts to the shower, a nonverbal command that I obey, stepping inside and closing the door behind me. The hot water serves as a form of release to my tense muscles and I throw my head back, soaking my hair as I try to ignore Tobias staring at me from across the room.
“Put your foot on the bench,” he says.
And once I do that, he tells me to touch myself. My emotions short circuit. Yes, I let this man touch me, lick me, get me off. And yes, I signed that contract, but still, there’s a part of me that is hesitant. A part of me begging to defy him. And before I realize it, I say, “Are you just going to stand there and watch?”
His slight smile falls, and he moves toward the shower door, placing his face so close his breath fogs the glass. “Strike one.”
Shit. “But...”
“Questions, Ella. And let's not forget that last rule. Complete submission.”
I glare at him as I lower my hand between my legs and slip a finger inside. As shameful as it is, I’m soaking wet. Terrified, yet more turned on than I’ve been in my life. This is fucked up.
“Are you wet?” he asks.
“Yes…”
“Good. Now wash yourself off.” With that, he exits the bathroom and leaves me wondering what exactly it is I've gotten myself into.
4
The next morning, I follow the scent of coffee to the kitchen. Preston and Tobias stand at the cabinets, dressed in nothing but sweatpants. My gaze trails their bare chests, noting the way the shadows settle in the ridges and valleys of their stomachs. They look perfect, like something Michelangelo would have carved, and I wonder for the hundredth time why the hell they have to pay a woman to fuck them.
“Good morning, Ella,” Tobias says, his gaze directed away from me as though he can simply sense my presence.
“Good morning,” I say, thinking those two words shouldn’t be so difficult to manage.
“Would you care for coffee?” Preston takes a mug from the cabinet before glancing over his shoulder at me.
I nod as I step into the room and take a seat at the breakfast bar, trying not to look at either of them, though I can feel the weight of their eyes on me. It’s bad enough with one of them, but with both, I want to shrink under their attention. I hear a drawer open. The tinker of a spoon in a cup, and then a steaming mug is placed in front of me.
“You're pretty when you blush,” Tobias says. When I look up, his hand is sliding over Preston’s abs as he rounds him. Maybe I should find the sight of these two men touching so intimately strange, but I don’t. Instead, it has me feeling things—wanting things that I've never even thought about before.
Tobias casts a fleeting glance in my direction. “A dress has been laid out for you. After coffee, get ready. We’re leaving.” Both men head down the hall, then a single bedroom door closes. Are they in there together? Are they together?
I go to my room and find a black dress on the bed. I change into it, then slip my feet into a pair of Prada heels. While the closet has been stuffed to the brim in elegant, designer clothes, there isn’t a stitch of underwear to be found. And that tells me all I need to know. As far as they are concerned, underwear isn't needed.
An hour later, Preston and I arrive, without Tobias, at Raul’s, one of the city's finest restaurants. The hostess ushers us to a table set for four. A restaurant that has a waitlist month's long, even for lunch. How long have they had this planned or are they above such ridiculous things as waitlists? It would make sense that anyone would bend to their whims and desires. I sure as hell had…
We’ve barely taken our seats before Preston orders three glasses of wine. Then we sit in silence. Me staring out the window, him staring at me—I think, I feel it. I nearly jump out of my skin when the waitress returns with the wine. Then we return to silence. I shift in my seat, trying to calm my nerves, but it’s impossible. I keep asking myself what the hell I’ve done, wondering if I should just get up and leave, say to hell with the contract—but the money…
I down my wine in a heavy gulp just as Tobias walks in with another man.
The stranger sits across from me while Tobias takes the empty seat to my left, introducing me to Michael. He’s older than Preston and Tobias. Yet, despite being older, he holds none of the unfailing confidence of Preston, or the raw power of Tobias.
After our orders are placed, I’m ignored. I wonder why they bothered to bring me along. Maybe so I listen to them discuss portfolios and ridiculous sums of money…
Halfway through lunch, Tobias's fingers brush my thigh. When Preston's hand lands on my other thigh, I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I glance at Tobias just in time to catch a warning flicker across his eyes as his fingers creep further up my thigh. And, just like that, Preston removes his hand. I attempt to cross my legs, but Tobias cuts his gaze over at me. Complete submission.
Inhaling, I open my thighs, and his fingers find their way right between them. He circles my clit before slowly dipping inside me. And damn, it feels good. He goes deeper. Harder. My palm flattens on the tablecloth as I stare straight ahead, focusing on the hum of conversation, the clattering of dishes, the full restaurant buzzing around me. Shit. Why is this so hot?
Michael glances at me, all smiles. “So, Ella, what do you do?”
I open my mouth to answer just as another of Tobias’s thick fingers sinks inside, deep and fast.
“I’m in marketing.” My voice catches when he presses into me so hard, I have to fight to not lift out of my seat.
“Yes, we've just hired her,” Tobias says, pulling out and plunging back in, his thumb now massaging my clit.
“Oh, really?” Michael glances between us. “Phenomenal.”
Phenomenal indeed. I go to bring my wine to my lips, but thanks to the pressure inside of me, the hard then soft circles over my clit, I nearly knock the glass over. Preston catches it, smiling as he passes it to me. “No need to be nervous, Ella. Michael doesn't bite.”
Right now, I wouldn’t care if he did. I’m right on that edge. On the very brink, fighting to keep my uneven breaths steady because if I come in here...
“So, what do the figures look like?” Tobias asks. “Growing, I assume?”
“Exponentia
lly.”
“Good. Very,” — his fingers curl against me— “good.”
He’s acting as though I’m not gripping him right now, as though I’m not ever so slightly rocking my hips beneath the table against my will.
“You feeling well, Ella?” Preston asks. “You look rather flushed.”
“Fine.” I swallow. “Fi—” A slow breath breaks my speech— “ine.”
I shift forward, gripping the edge of the table as I tighten around Tobias’s fingers, in one of New York's busiest, most upscale restaurants. The entirety of Fifth Avenue strolls past the window as I deny myself the moan my body wants to release. My eyes close and I focus on the weightless heat, the moment of not giving a single fuck about anything else.
When I open my eyes, Michael’s concerned gaze is on me. “Is she alright?”
“Just a bit on edge, right, Ella?” Tobias removes his fingers, trailing the wet mess over my thigh.
“Yes…” I manage.
Smirking, he sweeps his wet index finger along his bottom lip, tasting me. Heat rises in my cheeks. That shouldn’t turn me on. It shouldn't, but it does. And then he leans into my side. “Go and clean yourself up, Ella,” he whispers. “You’ve let me make a mess.”
5
After lunch, Preston heads to the office with Michael, leaving me alone with Tobias. I expect to be escorted to a waiting limo, but instead the valet pulls a black Ferrari up to the curb, then drops the keys in Tobias’s waiting palm.
I sink onto the soft leather seat as Tobias climbs behind the wheel. The engine revs like a powerful jungle cat before we pull away. I watch people on the sidewalk stare, and I have a moment where I have to remind myself why I’m here. Only because they chose me to play their game. Nothing more. Nothing less.
“You don't speak much, Ella.”
“I can't ask questions.” So what does he expect me to talk about with complete strangers? “And seeing as how I don't know you, that limits what I can say.”
Tension fills the small space, pressing in on me and like an ever-shrinking box. “Does it bother you?”
“No.”
“Does it make you feel powerless?” Dark amusement laces his voice, and I want so badly to tell him to go fuck himself.
“It bores me,” I say.
“Careful, Ella.”
A traffic light catches us and he slams on the brakes. The loud engine rumbles as the car idles, and I watch the pedestrians hurry through the crowded sidewalks. I can’t ask questions, but I can make probing statements. “This game must be a great way for a man who has everything to have a little fun.”
Suddenly, Tobias’s hand is in my hair. I panic for a moment when he drags me as far as he can manage across the console.
“Everything is a game. And power is the winning card. Always. So, I ask you again, do you feel powerless when my fingers are inside you?” His nose runs along the edge of my jaw on a deep inhale. “Or do you feel powerful when you're coming on my hand—” He moves his lips to my ear— “When your tight pussy is pulling me deeper?”
And how do I answer that? I feel, with Tobias, there is always a wrong answer and a right answer, and then there is the truth: When I'm with him the feelings of powerless and powerful mix together, separating like oil and water. “Both,” I whisper.
A small smirk dances over his lips as he releases my hair. “Good girl.”
A car horn blares behind us, but it’s a few more moments before he finally focuses on the road and drives off.
We end up in the business district by Wall Street, on the top floor of yet another office building. From the stack of files a secretary leaves on the desk, I assume we’re heading to a meeting, but as soon as she leaves, Tobias slowly undoes the buttons on his shirt. He shrugs out of it and tosses it to the desk behind him before lowering the zipper on his slacks. And now he’s completely naked. Even stripped of his suit, of the staples that embody power, there is still something that seems to set him apart. How is it that, in his most vulnerable form, with the backdrop of the city behind him, he appears even more powerful and intimidating?
His palm glides over the plane of his stomach, dropping lower until he’s fisting his swollen cock. I’m so enthralled by watching him touch himself that I don’t notice we’re no longer alone until a rush of warm breath fans across the back of my neck. “Like what you see, sweet Ella?” Preston whispers in my ear.
The straps of my dress slip from my shoulders. Preston pulls the material down until my breasts are exposed. His touch glides over the swell, circling my hardening nipple. “So soft. So pretty.”
“Do you like watching Tobias?” he asks, shoving the material pooled around my hips the rest of the way down.
Tobias is naked and so am I. Any coyness I might normally feel is snuffed out by the way their gazes rake over me like wolves about to feast. It empowers me. It makes me want to do things I normally wouldn’t, or maybe it’s the knowledge that in just a week, this will be over and I’ll never see them again. Anonymity is a gift.
Preston’s fingers spread across my stomach, inching lower and lower. An ache builds between my thighs until I'm lost in a state of desperation and confusion. I don't know what I want, what I need, or what's expected of me. And just when I think his fingers are about to plunge deep inside me, he pulls his hand away and grips my shoulders.
“On your knees,” he says.
I do as told, dropping to my knees while I tell myself this submission is for the game. It’s not. At this very moment, I’m doing this because I’m caught up in their sensuous trap and I want a taste. I want to watch them become half as undone as I am.
Tobias’s hard cock is right in front of my face and Preston is at my back, his hands still on my shoulders.
Preston grips my hair as Tobias takes a step forward, his cock in his hand. “You have such a pretty mouth. Suck his cock, sweet Ella. Make him come.”
This should feel degrading. It doesn’t. Tobias trails his finger over my cheek. “Yes, suck me, little lamb.”
And I do. I slowly trace the edge of my tongue over his dick, sweeping along the perfect indention of his head before I take his thick cock back. I hate it and love it, and I almost forget about Preston until fingers brush the inside of my thigh. “Spread your legs, sweet Ella.”
His words make me wet, and I slide my knees apart, continuing to work my mouth over Tobias. I feel Preston’s hands on my thighs. I’m halfway aware of him sliding between them until his warm mouth lands on my pussy.
The sensation forces my eyes closed on a soft groan. This is the most powerless form of power I've ever experienced. I'm drunk on it. Addicted. And I am now certain that the intentions these two men have are not only to possess me but to ruin me. They want to be the thing I crave but can never have. And this is where I lose all inhibition.
I moan around Tobias's cock, tasting the promise of his orgasm and wanting more. I take him back until I gag, and his fingers fist my hair. He whispers “fuck” over and over between needy moans while Preston’s warm mouth fucks me from underneath.
“Ah, fuck,” Tobias groans, pulling his cock from my mouth and pumping his fist over it. That’s enough. I grind over Preston’s face in search of my release as a stream of Tobias’s warm come shoots over my chest.
And I’m right there with him. Wave after blissful wave or orgasm crashes over me in a relentless moment that seems to go on forever.
But the second it's all over, Preston gets to his feet and the embarrassment creeps in.
“Ella, you stay like that and you're going to make me come,” Preston says, dragging a finger through the warm, wet mess Tobias left on my chest. His fingertip touches the seam of my lips, and I suck it into my mouth.
“Get dressed, Ella,” Tobias says. “There's a restroom at the back of the office. Wipe yourself off, but don't wash it. We're going to play.”
If this is all I have to do for one million dollars— I’m more than game.
6
After I
dress, I’m sent back to their penthouse and spend the rest of the day alone while they tend to business. The only communication I receive is a call telling me what to wear and when to be downstairs to be picked up.
At seven sharp a limo picks me up with only Preston in the back, and we drive across town to Club 33. An extremely high-end strip club. One both socialites and politicians frequent.
We, of course, bypass the long line snaking around the building. The bouncers don’t even bother to check our IDs before ushering us inside.
Preston guides me through the club to a corner booth where Tobias sits waiting. He seems unamused at the topless girl dancing in front of him, and the moment his gaze strays to us, he dismisses her with a flick of his wrist. “Can you still smell me on you?” he asks as I settle into the seat. I ignore the question and thankfully he doesn’t press any further.
Preston drops into the seat on the other side of me.
“What do you think of women who take their clothes off to entertain men?” Tobias asks. “And remember, do not lie to me.”
“Besides,” Preston whispers next to my ear. “We already know what you think of it.”
I stare down at my lap. Ashamed. In the past, I thought strippers devalued themselves, and now I feel foolish because what I am doing takes devaluing one’s self to another level. “I think it’s…”
“Disgusting?” Tobias asks.
“Demeaning,” Preston counters.
“I did think that...”
“And why is that?”
I shrug. I can’t tell them why because I’d be a hypocrite. These women dance for men to make money, and now it all seems so ridiculous that I ever looked down my nose at them, because here I sit, between Tobias and Preston, paid for seven days of my life. Paid to be their fuck doll, to let them use me.
