Breaking Joseph

by Lucy V. Morgan

  He dropped the paperweight on the carpet and hauled me up to kiss him again, almost straddling me over his hips. His cock sat weightily between my thighs.

  “Unfortunately, we need to leave for the airport.”

  I pouted. “That’s not unfortunate. It’s just plain unfair.”

  “This Saturday, my calendar is utterly clear.” He hoisted me over his hips once more and I slid back down. This time, his cock was warmer. Harder. “I’m going to give you what you deserve.”

  “I promised to visit my parents.” I sighed. “You’ll have to do something manly and successful instead.”

  He eyed me in amusement. “I’ll break out Twister and the Sylvanians. Now.”

  There was a swish of air before the sting of his spank. “Ah!”

  “Let’s get out to the car.” He patted his swollen crotch. “When I can walk, anyway.”

  When we pulled up outside his apartment building, I wasn’t entirely surprised. Joseph’s view of delayed gratification was similar to his view on monogamy: nothing to be gained if it just made you miserable.

  “I’ve got some paperwork for Elise. Really ought to hand it over tonight.” He opened the door of his Merc for me. “Coming up?”

  “Won’t we be late?” Another flat spank landed as I rose. “Ow.”

  “Maybe.”

  While he rummaged around his office, I tidied his coffee table, which was still as messy as it had been that weekend. The lounge door creaked open and when he saw me bent over, the grin almost split his face.

  “Did you find your files?” I asked.

  He shook the neat black folders in his hand. “I don’t know what you’re implying, you madam. Wait–”

  “What?”

  “Don’t stand up.”

  “Joe.” I resisted the urge to wiggle my hips at him. Bad Charlotte. “We’ll never arrive.”

  “Oh, I’ll arrive.” He strode over and squashed me against the floor. A thick finger traced along my jaw, down between my breasts and to the apex of my thighs. “I’d arrive here and here, and here…” One hard kiss, and then he tore away to check his watch. “Fuck it. Shower.”

  In the bathroom, we undressed in clouds of swelling steam. Each of his shirt buttons popped with a precise little flick. The clink of his belt buckle was melodic as it fell to the tiled floor. We never lost eye contact. I kept forgetting to breathe, and when I remembered, the breath caught in my throat. On his slight nod, I peeled off my own clothes and then he followed me into the hot froth.

  It summed us up rather well that there was no need for soap. We weren’t together to be made fresh and clean, and the stains only made us more interesting. I liked to taste the layers of him, and he wanted to be sticky with mine.

  At first, I faced the wall. Hot water battered my closed eyelids. From behind, he squeezed my hips before cupping my breasts. Then he pushed his weight against me and I lay back, fell, arched into him. He stroked wet hair from my shoulder and began his measured line of bites–always the same pattern, like it was written on my skin in Braille and he was the only one blind enough to read it. He’d carved his name into my flesh but neither of us guessed that it was already there.

  He was stiff and hot and desperate in the valley of my spine, and there was no hope for me, caged in his tangle of limbs like that. I had to turn, had to commit grievous harm on that mouth. The cascade quivered above me as he pulled the showerhead loose. Oh no, no. Not fair. This was just meant to be a quick fuck, a nutshell–yet I was the one about to crack.

  The water was sharp on my nipples, and the pleas flew from my lips already, no, not yet. Please. Little tremors pierced my flesh and rolled down between my legs, pulling me tight on impact, forcing shudders. By the time he switched to my other breast, I was a moaning mess.

  “Go on,” he murmured, the showerhead hovering at my mound.

  I walked my fingers down. Ticktock, ticktock. With a little moan, I spread myself, exposing my clit to the humid air.

  “Good girl.” His firm thumb teased me out of the hood. The water spilled down. He swirled the jet until I cried out–right there–and then it closed in, a hundred tiny fingers of liquid ribbon and heat. As if it might hold me upright, my free hand smacked against the tiles.

  Our slightest gasps echoed behind the glass, and my own cries permeated, shot down and infused my contracting muscles. He filled me with fingers and I kneaded them violently; he wielded the showerhead as he had the knife, and the lightest stroke seemed to do the greatest damage.

  On Sunday, I had shown him this, letting him in on my lazy little secret. Then, he delighted in how hard it made me work and how quickly it made me come. Now, he exploited it for every opportunity to tease and he wore that faint, ruthless smile that told me he was already gone with it all: consumed by the desire that simmered, and charged with the adrenaline that made him superhuman.

  My whole pelvis snapped down as I came. Fast and brutal, I was too busy sucking in air to moan, and I didn’t make a sound until I succumbed to sweet, relieved laughter. The shower reappeared above me, his fingers slid under my buttocks and I wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist. Cold tiles rubbed roughly against my spine, reminded me of the warmth I was otherwise wrapped in. A moment later, he crushed a kiss on my lips as I was split and stretched, and as he watched me take his cock, his forehead lingered on mine.

  “Do you know how tight you are like this?” He panted.

  I shook my head. I was taut from the manic effort of my orgasm, but it was no fun to tell him yes.

  “Let me show you.” He slid back and then slammed hard.

  I winced, squealed, but there was no space to recoil.

  “It hurts like that, doesn’t it?” He did it again with renewed force.

  Clenching my thighs didn’t make me any shallower, and he shoved them back open anyway. I clung to his shoulders and sagged back against the wall. Though it made his thrusts feel no less acute, the submission was peaceful in a drunk, light-headed way, and just as we both knew it would, the pain turned to sandpaper pleasure.

  After at least three bruises, I realized that the warm trails on my cheeks were not from the shower. Joseph spread the tears with his tongue.

  “Baby,” he murmured.

  The white tiles flashed red in their bloodbath, red like a wall of shiny apples. Charlotte was terrified that something had come for her soul.

  Then he spent himself with stuttering hips and furious breath. The scythe stilled inside me. The arms that held me were trembling, and as I sank back down, he mashed me against the wall.

  “Shh.”

  I blinked, uneasy. Not so far away, yet still buried inside me, a girl cried–Charlotte shook with slivers of sobs. “Oh, fuck. Sorry.” I went to wipe my eyes.

  “It’s all right.” He stroked my cheeks with his thumbs, and I looked away, suddenly coy.

  “Just got a bit caught up. I think…I think I needed that.”

  “I gathered.” His kiss was unwontedly gentle.

  We drove to the airport in easy silence. We were late, but so was the flight, and waiting, we curled up in a corner of the arrivals lounge. Exhaustion seeped in and I dozed on his chest. I was dreaming about having a bath in the middle of a supermarket when he shook me.

  “What?”

  “They’ll be through shortly. This is their flight.”

  We ushered Elise and Kenji out, congratulating them on their engagement as we navigated toward the car park. Elise was bright, full of excitement and energy, but Kenji evidently needed some caffeine. I felt bad for finding his sulkiness funny.

  Their glass-fronted hotel reached up toward the stars like a balled fist, and their suite afforded them a view of a million twinkling streetlights. If fairytales were wrought in steel and concrete, we had climbed the beanstalk and they were playing out before our very eyes.

  Joseph appeared behind me at the window. “What are you looking at?”

  “Just enjoying the view. A little like New York, d
on’t you think?”

  “Smells different.” He wrapped an arm around my waist and inhaled against my hair. “Smells gorgeous.”

  “Should we order up some Champagne? Celebrate the impending nuptials, and all.”

  “No, no. I’m going to take Ken down to the bar for a bit, I think. You can keep madam company.”

  “Madam, hmm?” I grinned up at him. “Have you been eyeing her up too?”

  “Elise?” He shrugged against me. “She’s not my type either. Although.” He cleared his throat. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought of what she’d look like stuffed with a rolling pin.”

  I tried very hard not to snort.

  “Stuffed whatnow?” Kenji emerged from the bedroom, his eyes wide. “Do I want to know who you’re talking about?”

  Joseph released me and shook his head. “Probably not, no.”

  “Awesome. Can we find some alcohol?” Kenji rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort. “I need to loosen up after that flight and I’m not allowed to do it the traditional way.”

  “Oh, stop complaining!” Elise bounced through the door, her chocolate hair shimmering behind her. “Leila. Help me get rid of these men.”

  Joseph brushed warm lips my cheek before heading for the door. “I’ll be back in an hour, sweetheart.”

  “Have fun.”

  The door slid shut. There was a beat–I recoiled, knowing–and then Elise ran at me and exploded in a flurry of skin and perfume.

  “Oh my God!” she shrieked, hugging me. “I’m getting married!”

  “We established that.” I hugged her back through the laughter.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just…so…I never thought we’d actually do it. And here we are! We’ve come to buy a ring and everything!”

  “And to do business.” I cocked my head to a stack of files on the sideboard. “Joseph left those for you.”

  She paused, briefly infused with her usual excitement for the job. “Yeah. Well.” She tugged me toward the bedroom. “Screw those for a bit. I’ve got Cosmo Bride.”

  Oh, dear God.

  It wasn’t that I hated weddings. On the contrary, I envied people the strength to commit, and I remembered tearing up as Will and Angus talked about conquering the world together, all their hopes and plans. If anything, I longed to do that with somebody else–bed hopping was one thing and life hopping was quite another. Here I was, really feeling for a man for the first time, and now the whole white dress, organ music, floral-table-centre act of marriage, it seemed like a plastic bouquet: a poor representation of the real thing and in my eyes, pointless.

  Elise had been well and truly sucked in by the corporate marriage machine.

  “Do you need personalized table cameras?” I mused. “Can’t people just use their phones?”

  “When the hell else will I get to buy personalized table cameras? Have you seen them? Look.” She thrust the magazine at me. “Seventeen different colour combinations.”

  “That’s…that’s something.” I pushed the page back down gently. “On the phone, you said you wanted to get married, rather than buy things.”

  She patted my hand in sympathy. “Never let anyone tell you that the two are mutually exclusive.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  “Good.” She peered at me over Cosmo. “Anyway, I did mean what I said. Stuff has changed between me and Kenji, definitely for the better.”

  I reached for the Prosecco and sloshed it into glasses from the mini bar. “Should I be asking how?”

  “You know what I mean!” She tilted her glass, watched the bubbles rise. “I’m lightening up, I guess. Realizing what’s important. Appreciating him.”

  I watched her lips as they curved like slices of autumn fruit, plump and vivid against her skin.

  “You were talking about what he was willing to compromise about,” she went on, “and you were right about what that meant. At first, I thought you were saying that his desire…it isn’t important.” She tipped her head. “Then I realized you were saying that maybe if I wanted commitment from him, I needed to make it more important. To me.”

  “This is awfully deep considering that we’re sober, you know.”

  “I know. I don’t often tell people that they’re right, Leila. It’s not part of my job. But I think you are…and I wanted to ask you a little favour, while I’m still feeling brave.”

  “Oh?”

  “Please don’t think I’m weird, but from what we’ve talked about before, I wondered…”

  I listened, nodded. Might have flushed a little in curious excitement. I didn’t think she was weird–I hadn’t expected it of her, certainly, but I had also gathered that Elise was not a woman you could expect things of.

  That made it all ten times more interesting.

  “So?” she said. “What do you think?”

  “If you’re happy with that, and you think it’s what he’d want, I don’t see why not.”

  “Oh, he will want it.” She laughed. “What about Joseph?”

  “He’ll be fine. Trust me there.” I held my glass up for a toast. “Tomorrow night, then? After the ball.”

  “So long as one of us doesn’t turn into a pumpkin.” She finished her drink and rose. “Come and give me a hand with this paperwork?”

  “I’m not sure I’m supposed to see that stuff. I haven’t even signed my contract yet.”

  She waved a hand. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I could use your help. Come on.”

  “If you say so.”

  * * * *

  I didn’t realize how tired I was until I sank back into Joseph’s car for the ride home.

  “So.” I stretched and yawned. “Did you tell Kenji about the rolling pin, after all?”

  “How would that conversation have gone? Let’s see.” He raised his brows. “Ken, you know that lovely girl you’re going to marry? Yes, marry. Do you remember that talk we had about marriage, by the way? The one where we’d only ever do it if we met interchangeable Swedish twins?”

  I started laughing and he held up a hand.

  “Anyway, this lovely girl. I’ve been thinking about how I’d like to get her knickers off and splay her over my kitchen island. Then I’m going to shove my fist in a butter pat and–” He jutted his hand aggressively and I fell about, tears pricking my eyes. “For fuck’s sake, Leila.” He tried not chuckle too–his mouth twitched toward shining eyes. “You’re ruining my monologue.”

  “Okay, okay.” I did a rather weak job of composing myself. “Where were you?”

  He pouted. “The moment has passed.”

  “Sorry.” I patted his thigh. “Did you treat Isobel to such tasteful verse?”

  He teased my fingers up and placed them over his stiffening crotch. “Still there, isn’t it?” he said.

  “Mmm hmm.”

  He nodded. “Well. There’s your answer.”

  * * * *

  Despite the tiredness, I lay awake for an hour after Joseph dropped me off. I had to know where the tears had come from, why I’d wept without realizing in his arms because…God. How mortifying. It was as if being pressed between his thick body and the cold tiles was the greatest relief of all, as if to purge everything I had to push out with the heave of a sob. He had, unknowingly, drawn long-buried panic out with each savage kiss. Whore. Ever worried that no man would want you because of what you are? I shuddered as I felt the rough velvet of his tongue on my cheeks again, winced as I heard him exhale at the taste of my tears.

  They had not bothered him. On the contrary, he treated them with reverence and kindness–something I didn’t expect.

  Perhaps that was why they bothered me.

  Chapter 10

  On Thursday morning, I skipped running and went into work early. The office was refreshingly silent and the light of the new day splashed over the walls in a mural of yellow and gold. At my desk, I lifted my contract out of the top drawer and began to read.

  It was all very standard stuff, but given my
profession, I wasn’t given to signing things without going over them first. My old Parker fountain pen–a graduation gift from my late grandparents–sat in its display box in my bag. I’d brought it in especially for the occasion. They would have been so proud of me.

  Proud of the solicitor, anyway. Maybe not so much the soliciting.

  “You’re awfully eager this morning,” Sadie chirped.

  I jumped in my seat. “Jesus! You scared me.”

  “Oops. I thought you’d have heard me.” She gestured to the garment bags she’d dragged in. “Dry cleaning. Bane of my life, seriously.”

  “How many suits does he need for one ball?”

  “Oh, these aren’t Joseph’s. They’re mostly for Yves. If I don’t sort it, he’ll turn up reeking of whiskey and socks.”

  “Sounds…appetizing.”

  “Yeah. Just what I signed up for when I answered the ad for a glittering and fabulous PA.”

  “Let me help you with those.” I tucked the contract back into the drawer and scooped a couple of bags from her arms. “I’m sure working for Joe has its more interesting moments.”

  She flashed me a rather wicked grin. “And you would know.”

  “What would she know?” Matt limped toward us with slightly more grace than the day before. Slightly.

  “Dry cleaning,” I muttered.

  Sadie glanced at me. “Indeed.”

  Matt noticed the bags thrown over our shoulders and winced. “I’d help, but–”

  “But you’re maimed,” I said quickly. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

  I helped Sadie arrange the suits in Yves’ office and collected the receipts from the hangers, pressing them into her hands.

  “Are you all set for tonight?” she asked.

  “I think so. Not entirely sure what it’s all for, but still.”

  “The Queen’s Trust. It’s a youth charity,” she said. “They send underprivileged kids away to boarding schools and on work experience placements. We usually host a couple of students every year or at least, litigation does. You can imagine how many teenagers want to visit the rock and roll world of tax law.”