Matt returned with a glass of something with tonic–strong despite what Joseph had asked for, lots of ice and lemon. My alcohol tolerance was ever appalling and I usually faked drinking on the job.
I set the glass down and fell back between my captors.
Matt slid a nervous hand over my knee, toying with the fabric of my dress. “I like this. I recognize it.”
Joseph sprang up to watch from another couch. “She’s yours. What will you do with her?”
“You have no idea how often I’ve thought of undressing you like this,” said Matt. “Have…you ever thought of me?”
“Yes.” I swallowed as he eased off a shoe and blew on the sole of my foot. Cold little slivers. Oh.
“Those nights in the library, all I could think about was throwing you over the desk and just...ugh...” He pulled off the other shoe and settled my bare legs over his lap.
He’d grown braver. Had he snorted something over at the bar? When we kissed, our tongues darted between lips as words clung to them, unspoken. My nipples ached through the flimsy dress and I wanted his mouth on them, to push his head down and make him suck through the silk.
As Matt trailed a coarse tongue down my neck, Joseph smiled from the opposite couch. His shirt fell open at the neck and a hand sat over his cock. I bit my lip, but he shook his head–not yet.
Matt pawed at my dress. “Take it off. I just–I want you naked.”
Standing again, I reached back to release the zip. The dress fell at my feet in a pile of silky froth, and then I was bared before him, apricot nipples jutting ahead. Heat lit his cheeks in a nervous flush. He had seen me unsure often, but never like this. Never naked.
Straddling him on the sofa, I took to his shirt buttons, and barely half were undone before he tugged it over his head and slapped his hands over my buttocks. One nipple rushed into his mouth as he sucked–I cried out before I could stop myself.
Behind me, Joseph tutted.
“Spank her.” A delight peaked in his voice, an I-am-big pentameter.
Matt brought a hot palm down on my ass.
I swallowed a yelp. The fire of the slap spread between my legs, and I made do with panting between his kisses, pushing my buttocks back into his hand.
He chuckled. “Oh, you like it.”
Joseph inhaled sharply. “Slip your hands under and spread her out right there. Tell me how wet she is.”
Matt split my outer lips. The pad of his thumb pushed against my clit before it sank lower. “She’s soaked.”
Another twist and I cried out; the next spank slammed me against his thumb and made my pussy buckle. God, I wanted to be so much noisier. This was a dangerous amount of fun.
“Soaked and tight.” Honest words, sandpaper tone.
I closed my eyes, rode his thumb. My fingertips snaked across my belly to squeeze my breasts, and though I don’t remember ever being ashamed, at that moment, I burned with the lack of it.
Then Matt pulled his hand away and my complaint earned me another smack.
“Not yet,” he said. The power trip was just as thrilling for him–his eyes were glassy with it.
“What do you think she should do now?” asked Joseph.
“I think she should get on her knees, and...and...”
Suck him. So polite–God, I wanted to pat him on the head almost as much as I longed to taste him.
Matt gripped me around the waist as he stood to plant me on the plush carpet. Clothes were peeled, flesh was served.
I inhaled as his cock sprang up, gazed at him as I trailed a fingertip along the underside. Tanned and tight and lovely–why had I ignored this from the other side of my desk?
He sat back, shoved me down. The carpet turned to gravel on my knees. I sucked until his head hit the back of my throat, and he stared with pained intent as he swept curls from my face to watch me swallow. I normally did this with a condom, but...ah, he tasted good, coated in the sweat of a day’s work. His skin felt so smooth as the blood surged beneath–so easy to pump my mouth over. I don’t know what made me wetter– fulfilling Matt’s fantasy or bending over in front of Joseph, bare and exposed. He spewed rough breath behind me and I knew he was stroking himself.
Matt grew louder until he arched, shoving further into my mouth. Pre-come stuck to my tongue in a thick little ribbon.
The sofa creaked and shed clothes rustled.
“Enough.” Joseph eased me away with a loose fistful of hair, and I turned on my sore knees, eager for my first mouthful of him. He smelled the way flames do when you get too close to a fire.
“Stand up.” He cupped my hips with firm hands, twisted me around. “Matt’s going to return the favour. Aren’t you?”
Matt sat forward and beckoned me to stand. He kissed my shaved mound, spreading my legs to make room for his tongue. It dragged and I squealed.
Joseph reached around to roll my nipples and I ground my whole body forward, my breasts into his hands and my pussy onto Matt’s face. I wanted him to slow down, longed to be teased...I had to remind myself that this was not for the little girl in the big boys’ corner of the playground.
Joseph’s cock nudged at my back as he trailed little bites along my shoulder.
“I’m going to get you ready for me,” he whispered, dipping his fingers between my lips and getting them good and sticky. They walked back and found my anus, inching inward and pulling down. I sighed, clenched on him involuntarily, and couldn’t decide which way to push–back onto his finger or forward to Matt’s tongue. Down deep, my climax swelled–how would I stay quiet? Would I even be allowed to come? I wanted to cry out with disappointment as his fingers left, but then his cock brushed the mouth of my pussy and I moaned at the stretch of it. Matt paused for a second–maybe he was surprised that Joseph went first–but he didn’t waste much time.
Joseph, now stooped a little behind me, held my hips so he could split me with one swift thrust. The force of him shoved me against Matt’s tongue so hard–it was enough. I blurred at the edges. My body gave way and invaded itself. It wasn’t meant to be like this, not broken by bank notes and curses and sweat, but I fell onto Matt’s face and only the grip I had on his forearms kept me standing up.
Joseph slowed inside, let me milk him in long, sharp strokes; he sank his teeth into my shoulder again and my pulse jumped to stutter. Breath by breath, I came back from the dead.
Matt gave me a final lick and drew away.
“There,” Joseph said, “now you’re ready.” He slid out easily, drenched and well worked. “I’ve not seen a hired girl do that before.” Amusement spiked his tone. “Never felt it like that.”
Because this is the other side of the mirror, Mr Merchant, and it is something else.
They lifted and maneuvered me into position, with Matt on the floor as I straddled his hips. My temples ached, vision swam, and below, I ached in patches bruised from his tongue-lashing, while my thighs were stiff from bracing between the two men.
“Fuck.” Matt took my weight with his arms. “Do that harder.” A flush crept over his schoolboy features as I teased him. In truth, every tiny undulation was an effort.
Joseph sat behind me, squatting so his wet cock nudged between my ass cheeks every time I slid back. Nerves fizzed as I worked myself on to him–this was a first. I should have said no but ah, ah, I could smell him behind me, all mellow lemons and heat and sweat...and I forgot how to shape the sound. My breasts filled his palms, and he stroked them as he eased in those last few inches. Then we were all flinching, arching, whimpering.
Tri-sected.
A part of me wanted to stare down at Matt. To brush away the hair stuck to his forehead, trace the curve of his open mouth. But my eyes fell shut with the rapture, and when I blinked, Joseph’s hands curved about my chest in a half-moon. They were the spine of a book, and Matt and I fanned either side, one of us the opening page and the other, the well-thumbed climax.
Two men bumping cocks through taut channels, the traipse and burn as they rubbed thr
ough thin tissue...how did that feel, inside? It hurt. But desire poured in sweat, watering eyes, the wet mess between my legs that betrayed me as Charlotte; the more the men filled me, the more it wanted out. Matt and Joseph knocked the breath out of me with every jerk. I’d arrived as two girls, and if the stab and the sting, the squeeze and the–Jesus, go slower–made good on their promises, I’d split into halves. No question. At first, it seemed I was meant to move for them, to take control. But when Joseph urged my hips down, back, rolled them over the jut of his cock, Matt grasped my shoulders as leverage and fought to reach the depths. Soon I was a rag doll, shoved back and forth by warring factions, and as the battle ached and brewed in my belly, there was no punishment anymore. Just rough pleasure, the push-and-pull of bruised flesh. We sounded like Roman soldiers in surgery. No anaesthetic, sharp knives. Clinging to the bravery of the act and moaning in drunken agony. The speed they’d gained in these few short minutes, they had to be raw as me–and when I snuck a glance at Matt, he flinched like every thrust was a shallow cut. Slash, thwack...ah, euphoric. He felt it.
As for Joseph...
By the time he finished, his rasps and curses left my ears sore. Welts curved across my shoulder in punctured ribbons because words were not the only things to break beneath his teeth.
“Dirty little girl.” He pulled out. “I love it.” His fingers slid from my breasts, which were cool and heavy without his touch. The couch braced as he sat back to watch me finish with Matt.
And Matt had other ideas.
We rolled, he mounted, my nails tore across his back. Kisses stifled my yelps. He was in so deep now I could practically feel him between my hips, as he marked his territory, took me for his own. A shudder broke loose beneath his skin, and then...slower, slower, ah. We came down together with warm kisses and gentle thrusts. His mouth trailed across my collarbone.
“Thank you,” he mumbled, exhausted.
I wasn’t supposed to laugh at my clients, but I couldn’t help it–he looked like he’d accidentally kicked a football through someone’s window. “It was my pleasure.”
He gave me a slick grin of a kiss. “I noticed.”
God, I could never look him in the eye at work again. Joseph’s puppets, the pair of us–would we get away with no strings attached?
Joseph helped me up with a kiss of his own. Vodka prickled his tongue once more, and his quick fingers pinched at my hips.
I watched both of them wander around the suite, naked, as I lazed on the couch. Joseph had a swagger about him and a firm-looking ass that made me want to repay his favour. Matt had a flat, muscled belly and I longed to drag my tongue down it again. I rubbed my thighs together, enjoying how slick I felt in hidden places still. Perhaps I was more of a professional than I realized–or perhaps it took a pair of not-so-strange clients to turn me into one. The worst ideas…the best fun, hmm?
Champagne popped noisily in the corner. Pithy juice frothed at the sides of the glass that Joseph gave me, and I drank more of the cocktail than I meant to. He sat beside me, stroked his palms down my bare legs. He’d grown hard again and with deliberate effort, pressed against my thigh.
Matt began to pull on his boxers. “I’m sorry, babe. We’ve got those clients staying here and I promised to meet them in the bar at nine.” He finished dressing, ran his fingers through his dark hair and bent to kiss my forehead. “I’ll see you at work.”
He blushed, too–I mean, Jesus. What made a guy like Matt decide to spend a Wednesday night bull-fighting with his boss? He had no designs on Joseph’s position, or even job at the firm.
What made a girl like me indulge him?
The door slammed, and then it was just Joseph and I. The daylight had ebbed since I’d first arrived, dimming the suite so lamps glowed in corners. I took another gulp of my drink.
“I hope you’re not planning on going anywhere. We have another hour yet.” His fingers found my still-swollen lips, and he painted the mess of juices down my thighs. “Do all of your clients get such a warm reception?”
“You two don’t really feel like clients.”
“And you don’t feel like a call girl, but here we are.” He put his glass down. “What the fuck’s going on, exactly?”
I waited for the tirade of abuse, for him to tell me what a stupid thing this was to do.
It didn’t come.
So I told him about my parents and their holiday business, how I’d done some house-sitting last year and found the stack of red letters. How the lump had risen in my throat and I couldn’t swallow it until I knew how to fix things. A girl I knew at uni had paid her fees in a similar way, and half an hour of Google detective later...I came across the Ladarna website.
For three days, I read the profiles. Did the math. Browsed for the vulgar reviews. Charlotte leaned across the bed one night, stroked the hair from my damp cheeks. Go on, lover.
“I know it sounds stupid,” I said, “but the thought of them losing the estate is horrible. I grew up there. I had tea parties in that garden and I had my first…well, everything, in...” I felt more self-conscious than I’d been in the past hour. “I owe them this.”
“Do they know how you’re earning this money?” He massaged the inside of my thigh. “What do you tell them?”
“Overtime. Bonuses. A night job…all sorts. They don’t ask too many questions. Besides, I only have three jobs to go before I hit my target.”
“And this...” He gestured to my goose-pimpled skin. “This is easier for you than a bar job or something?”
Yes. I laid a hand on the back of my neck. “I...no. But I think that might be the point.”
“So it’s not always like this.”
Whether he was curious, whether he understood, I couldn’t tell. His narrowed eyes suggested he couldn’t, either–but then the space between us got sucked in, and our foreheads bumped with the urgency.
“You know,” he said between kisses, “what a risk you are taking. I don’t need to tell you that–”
“I know.”
He bit into the soft skin at the base of my neck, and I moaned. “I’m serious. If you weren’t so promising–and God help me, such a gorgeous little piece of work–I’d be firing your ass, not...filling it.” He looked me sharply in the eye. “If this became common knowledge, we’d be up shit creek. No paddles.”
“I know. I’m sorry–”
“Show me how sorry.”
I went to kneel before him, but he held me back.
“Not like that. On your hands and knees.”
To obey; oh, I was good at that. He’d say jump and the safety word was how high? I dropped down to the thick carpet and bent over, sticking my ass in the air, while he followed me on to his knees.
“I think we can have some fun like this,” he whispered.
He took my clit between his finger and thumb, and twisted gently. The air was heavy with my sighs, with the promise of making as much noise as I liked. Back and forth, slowing and slower, I rocked on his hand as he eased another digit inside me. Then he found the soft spot that made me shudder, and thrust his knuckle into it.
“Ow, God...” I pushed back on his hand.
Most of my clients just wanted an hour of cock worship or to see me eating out another girl. A few wanted things I’d never, ever tell. It felt so good to be going at my own pace, to have someone who was bothered about what pleased me. To smile back at the man touching me like that and want him on that snapping, chemical level. Fizz pop.
He smirked as he dropped toward my ass. The tip of his tongue probed, and I sucked on the air while he danced round the edge, pricking every nerve ending individually before plunging in.
I shivered against his warm mouth. “Fuck me.”
I was ignored.
“Please, Joe, I want you to–”
He shoved his fingers further inside me, dragging them along the bottom wall. Then those sticky hands were on my hips to angle them downward. I closed my eyes as his cockhead circled my bruised lips, and when
he entered, inch by savage inch–he knew of its torment. When he filled me, finally, I squeezed down.
“Jesus.” He groaned. “Behave yourself–”
“Mmm...you didn’t hire me for that.”
“I hired you so you’d do what I fucking said for once.” He slowed, made me wait hourglasses for his next stroke. “It’s more fun this way. I want to feel you come on me again, Leila.”
He didn't talk to Charlotte the whore. He talked to me, like he knew there was little difference above it all.
Harder, now. I shoved back in fits of nerves. His fingers walked to find my clit again, pressing beneath the hood to make me writhe and squeal. I was drunk with it.
“Do it,” he breathed. “Come for me.”
I braced, poised for the peak. The things he did to me, that thing he wanted me to do–they were working. Curses conjured spells. Magic words. Minutes passed in curves and shudders, my cheeks flushed–
Then I burst all over him, gasping his name.
“Mmm...good girl.”
One spank.
Another.
Dizziness hit first–then the undercurrent, fizzling quietly–the shock that he had that kind of power, this statue from behind his barbed wire desk. That I would give it to him because when he arched an eyebrow...the world jerked with it.
Joseph knotted his fingers into my hair, guiding my lips to his bare cock. He tasted like me at the base, all salt and honey, and I mewed with my mouth full. He sighed as he hit the back of my throat.
That statue stuttered my name, his voice crumbling as I sucked him. His flesh painted my tongue, and I swallowed air and syrup. Then he pulled out, sprayed down my chin and over my nipples. Drew a fingertip through it all as his breathing slowed. Made me suck it off. A few licks later and I was still sticky, but clean enough.
We sat back against the sofa and I pressed my cheek into his chest, his heartbeat dwindling as he stroked the small of my back. Weird that he welcomed the intimacy–it wasn’t uncommon, but seemed out of character for somebody like him.
Adam resisted the apple, after all.
“I should get going,” I said reluctantly. “My driver will be waiting.”
Breaking Leila Page 2
