Executive Package

by Cleo Peitsche

  Elle squeezed back with a little nod. While she didn’t have the courage to look around the room and see everyone staring at her, she felt a lot better now that it was done. No more walking into a restaurant with one, or two, or all three of her bosses, and seeing people suddenly lean in close together, their voices dropped to whispers. No more wondering if people knew. It was done. It was out there, and she was relieved. Once again, Cunningham had been right.

  Her gaze crossed Nolan’s, and she wondered if the group of stunt men were still putting on a show outside.

  Jonathan released her hand and stretched, then propped an elbow on the back of his chair. Only men born into this world could act so comfortable under such circumstances. He looked around, then laughed. “April’s fingers might fall off,” he said to Cunningham, who smiled.

  “Who is April?” Elle asked. She’d never heard the name before. “And what’s wrong with her fingers?”

  “The biggest gossip you’ll ever meet,” Nolan said. “Cunningham made sure she got an invite.”

  Cunningham rose and extended his hand to Elle. “Time for you to meet her.”

  Elle shook her head, but Cunningham ignored her. He pulled her to her feet and wrapped a thick, muscular arm around her. Elle’s legs turned to jelly as he tightened her in a sideways embrace, tucking her up under his arm. She loved all three of her boyfriends equally, she really did, but Cunningham was the one who made her feel uncoordinated and nervous.

  He marched her up to the beautiful, elegant woman in the golden dress, the one Elle had noticed outside. “April.”

  The woman glanced up from her phone. Her face went white when she saw Cunningham and Elle standing so close, and she quickly flipped the phone over. Elle had a powerfully strong suspicion that she was the subject of the texts April had been sending. April floated to her feet, a confident smile on her aristocratic face.

  “Why, Cunningham,” she purred. “It’s so very nice to see you. Thanks for the table.”

  “Have you been here long?”

  April’s gaze darted to Elle, then back to Cunningham. “Long enough to…” Her voice trailed off.

  Elle imagined that April was trying to find a diplomatic way to describe the visual of Cunningham, Jonathan and Nolan, three of the richest and most eligible bachelors, all kissing the same woman.

  “I’m Elle Girdley.” Elle extended her hand. And then, because the secret was out anyway, she looked April in the eye and confessed the truth. “I’m Cunningham’s girlfriend. And Nolan’s. And Jonathan’s.”

  April’s eyes went huge, and her handshake became limp. She swallowed, her face beaming with controlled excitement and scandal.

  “Not just our girlfriend,” Cunningham said. “Our soulmate.”

  “Are you boys bisexual?” April asked. “I wonder because—”

  “We are not.”

  April stared at Elle, this time slower, appraisingly. Let the judging begin, Elle thought. But to her surprise, April nodded knowingly. “Lucky gal,” April said. “Very, very lucky.”

  Cunningham leaned in a little closer. “Between us, April, there’s going to be a wedding before too long.”

  Elle felt the smile freeze on her face. She’d been hoping he’d somehow let that go.

  April’s eyes clouded with jealousy, but she smiled good-naturedly. “I should take you the next time I go to Vegas,” she said to Elle. “Lucky.”

  “Thank you,” Elle murmured, relieved that April hadn’t asked which man Elle would be marrying.

  The lights dimmed. “Enjoy your evening,” Cunningham said.

  “Oh, I will!” April asserted, her hands blindly scrabbling for her cell phone. “Maybe I can get a photo?”

  “Perhaps later. Excuse us.” Cunningham guided Elle to their table, and they took their seats just as the host, a man in his mid-sixties wearing old-fashioned tails, approached the podium.

  “It’s done,” Cunningham said to Nolan and Jonathan.

  “I guess the whole city will know,” Elle mused. Or, at least a certain stuffy segment of the city. It would be strange, but at least it was out there. No more getting nervous whenever she was in a nice restaurant with more than one of her boyfriends.

  Jonathan opened his mouth, then smiled guiltily. “The city? As rich as Nolan is? Given the lingerie supermodels he dated during his wild and crazy youth? It’ll be on television, headlines on every celebrity gossip site in the world.”

  Elle gasped. “What?” Her mind reeled. If it was on television, her family would know. And Nolan had dated celebrities? It was the first she’d heard of it. “I’m not ready—”

  Cunningham shifted so that he could study her. “You’re not sure you want to be with us?”

  “No! I mean, yes, I’m sure. But…”

  “Then that’s all that matters. We’ll discuss this later,” Cunningham ordered as the host tapped the microphone.

  Elle glanced over at Nolan, who was shaking his head subtly. She nodded, understanding that she was in dangerous territory. She’d gotten into trouble before with Cunningham about not acting like she was committed to the relationship. The man only had two speeds: hot or cold. Lava or glacier was more like it.

  Deep down, she knew Cunningham was right. Unfortunately, that didn’t do a thing to quell the fluttering in her stomach.

  After the first round of awards, a light dinner was served. Between bites of tart lemon custard, Elle glanced over her shoulder, paranoid that everyone was watching her. Of course, the action of turning in her seat drew attention.

  “Relax,” Cunningham said. He lowered one of his hands to her knee and squeezed. “This is our life. If we hide, we’ll never be free. Letting other people dictate how we live will only make us miserable.” He gathered up the fabric of the bottom of her dress, and her skin tightened into goosebumps. When the dress was over her knee, he laid his hand on her soft inner thigh and slowly slid his palm up.

  Elle squirmed long before his fingers reached the warm, wet satin between her legs. She sucked her lip into her mouth and tried not to bite through it.

  Cunningham’s fingertips brushed over the swell of her pussy, then trailed back down again.

  “Cunningham!” she whispered. But the protest froze in her mouth. Telling him to stop would only convince him to continue.

  “Yes?” Cunningham asked. His deep voice rolled seductively.

  Elle shook her head, and Jonathan laughed before taking a sip of his red wine. “Nothing,” she said. She dropped her hand into her lap and leaned forward as servers collected their dinnerware, hoping that to the casual observer, it would seem like she and Cunningham were innocently holding hands.

  Cunningham shifted closer to her. One of his fingers pried at the hot fabric that clung to her damp skin. He worked his way in until he touched her bare, smooth flesh. “You’re wet,” he murmured.

  Elle closed her eyes. She couldn’t believe he was doing this, here. Strike that. She could. This was how Cunningham operated. He found her limits, then smashed through them.

  She remembered what Nolan had said about Cunningham wanting to take her on the table. She’d thought it was an exaggeration, but now she wasn’t so sure.

  “Spread your legs and allow me access,” he said.

  With a little shudder, she obeyed as much as the tight dress permitted—if she didn’t, he would simply make her—and he slowly nudged one finger into her slit. She tightened around him, which didn’t slow him down in the least. Elle felt that her face had gone bright red.

  “Love the way you grip me,” he breathed. He added a second finger into her snug heat, stretching her open. Elle’s pulse hammered. The background conversations faded to an indistinct roar, the lights and people around her blurred, and her awareness of her body, and Cunningham inside her, heightened.

  The dress felt tight around her breasts and stomach, constrictive. Her knees widened as much as the expensive gown would allow, and she tilted her head back, her lips parting as she sighed in contented sub
mission.

  The host returned to the podium. “Before we start the slideshow, I have one more special award to present. If you’ll indulge me.”

  Slideshow, Elle thought. They’ll have to turn the lights down even more for that. Relief and anticipation brought a smile to her lightly panting mouth.

  “Lights, please,” the host called out. The lights dimmed a fraction, and a spotlight shined roundly on the stage. “Tonight we’d like to honor a philanthropist who has exceeded the expectations of his peers, his family, and, indeed, society.”

  He pulled the microphone from the stand and walked across the stage, the heels of his shiny black shoes ringing smartly against the floor. He came down the steps and, to Elle’s utter horror, approached their table.

  “In the years since Cunningham & Associates opened their doors, the community has benefitted significantly. Our city is one of the few where public schools haven’t needed to eliminate or even reduce their arts and sports programs.”

  Elle sat up straight and slammed her knees together, trapping Cunningham’s hand… except if he’d wanted to get away, he could have. No, he was staying right where he was, his fingers buried deep in her pussy. He began to stroke her slowly as he leaned forward and propped his chin innocently on his other hand.

  On her left, Jonathan was half-sprawled out. Elle sensed he was holding in laughter. She didn’t dare look at him.

  The host smiled at Elle and winked, and Elle blanched. Did he know…?

  But no, he was just being friendly. She hoped.

  “I’m quite pleased to offer our first-ever Inspired Citizen award to Mr. Brian Cunningham of Cunningham & Associates.” Another man in a tux came down the steps, carrying a plaque which he handed to the host.

  Throughout the room, people applauded.

  “You have enriched our city, and you are an inspiration to us all.” He extended the plaque to Cunningham.

  Time slowed to a crawl. Cunningham had to stand up and accept it. He had to. And even assuming he withdrew his hand without everyone noticing what they’d been up to, his fingers would be wet.

  And the worst part was that Cunningham wouldn’t even care. In fact, he’d probably enjoy it, knowing how uncomfortable she was. As if to prove her point, he stroked her faster.

  She wanted to bury her face in her hands, but instead she stared straight ahead, pouring all her concentration into the Sisyphean task of preserving the shreds of her unraveling composure.

  Jonathan rose gracefully. “On behalf of my associate, who has had too much to drink this evening, I gratefully accept this award. We will display it prominently in our offices as a reminder that a few dedicated people can indeed better the world.” He held it aloft a moment, then made a little half-bow as he regained his seat.

  Beaming, the host returned to the stage and signaled for the slideshow to begin.

  Jonathan leaned in, so close that she could feel the sexy tickle of his breath on her skin. “You’re welcome,” he said slowly, teasingly.

  “Thank you,” she breathed, relaxing as the lights in the room faded.

  He smiled cockily. “Talk is cheap. Let’s see how grateful you really are.” Jonathan plunged his hand under her dress. “Open your legs.”

  “I can’t,” she said, trembling. “It’s too tight…”

  “Then I’ll rip it off you,” Cunningham said.

  Shaking, she squirmed, pulling the dress up higher.

  “Keep going,” Jonathan said. “More.”

  With a whimper, she did as he instructed. It wasn’t until she had the chair’s plush seat on her bare buttocks that he was satisfied.

  She pulled up the elegant white tablecloth and draped it over her lower body, and was relieved when Cunningham didn’t take this last bit of modesty away from her.

  Jonathan squeezed a finger inside her, next to Cunningham’s two digits. Now she was completely helpless.

  Cunningham nipped her ear. “Come.”

  “But—”

  “Before the slideshow is over.”

  She whimpered. Nolan rose and came to stand behind her. She tilted her head back to look at him, confused, pleading for mercy.

  “What is it you want, Elle?” he asked. “No… what do you need?” And he wrapped his fingers around her throat. He bent low and caught her lower lip between his teeth. When she gasped, he pressed his mouth onto hers and raked his hand through her hair, ruining her coiffure.

  Cunningham used his thumb to rub little circles around her slippery, engorged clit. She squeezed her eyes. She didn’t want to orgasm… to be so easy for Cunningham to order around… but she did want to, too. She hungered for this horrible, no boundaries submission to her lovers. It was like their every thought was for her pleasure. This was so far beyond what she’d expected when they’d made her stretch out naked on the conference room table the day she interviewed. Then, it had been a quiet, secret adventure, but along the way it had become public, the adventure becoming her life, her future.

  Maybe, if she’d resisted then, the lines might have been drawn elsewhere. But she suspected otherwise. Cunningham would have pushed her; it was his nature. How much more would he demand? And would she ever tell him “no” and mean it?

  No. She wouldn’t. She loved him, and she was addicted to him, and she trusted him. It had been true from the first time they met. She belonged, body and soul, to these masculine, demanding, dominant men. They spoiled her, took care of her, and made her do the dirtiest, most inappropriate things…

  Nolan cupped her breast and squeezed her nipple through the fabric. Her pussy seized around the fingers inside her, and her hips lifted off the chair. The men pushed into her harder, pinning her down, forcing her still.

  The orgasm came, as bidden. She almost cried out, and what noise she did make was muffled by Nolan’s mouth over hers. Electric energy coursed through her, spinning and crashing deep in her center as her body squeezed around her bosses’ thrusting fingers. This was what she was, who she was. She knew it with certainty in that moment of freedom. Everything else was the lie.

  Nolan straightened, and she sagged, depleted. When she tucked the loosened tendrils of hair behind her ears, her hands were shaking.

  “Let’s go,” Cunningham said. His fingers left a damp trail down her leg that cooled quickly. The men all stood, and Elle fixed her gown before rising.

  Cunningham possessively wrapped his arm around her shoulder. Jonathan stayed on her other side, and Nolan was right next to him. Elle sensed everyone staring at the three of them. When they reached the door, she turned to glance at their former table.

  It was nicely dark down there. No one could have possibly seen her getting finger-fucked by two men while a third devoured her mouth.

  Cunningham’s Town Car waited at the curb. He waved off the driver and opened the door for Elle, lending her a supportive hand, then maneuvered into the vehicle after her. The car, like all of Cunningham’s belongings, was pristine. No smudges on the windows, not a single wayward piece of lint on the mats. It smelled faintly like pine, but she doubted Cunningham would agree to something as pedestrian as an air freshener. It wouldn’t surprise her if he had the drivers fill the cars with evergreen wreaths when they weren’t being used. She snickered, covering her mouth with her hand, and Cunningham raised an eyebrow.

  Nolan went around the other side and got in, and Elle was pressed in between their firm bodies. The driver closed the door after Jonathan.

  “Whose place tonight?” Jonathan asked.

  There was silence.

  The lack of a permanent home for the four of them was getting to be a sore point. Elle had insisted they live together, and everyone had agreed, but there hadn’t been much progress. Nolan had figured it out; she was stalling on purpose.

  Cunningham wanted her to choose which of them she would marry. To him, living together was probably distasteful for one simple reason: it wasn’t what he’d wanted. It had been the compromise she’d forced him into, and he wasn’t a compr
omising man.

  Once they were settled in together, he would force the marriage issue—they probably all would—and she’d have nowhere to retreat, no more concessions to offer up as an alternative. Cunningham would have his way. Any lingering doubts were dispelled by his little announcement to April. A wedding soon.

  Getting engaged was supposed to be a joyous occasion, but no matter which man she chose, the other two would be devastated. The relationship wouldn’t change, in theory, but things might slowly evolve until one day she woke up and said to her husband, “I wonder what the other guys are doing?” and he’d just make a noncommittal noise.

  She couldn’t risk that happening. She loved them all too much. Cunningham’s control and dominance, Jonathan’s confident style, Nolan’s flirtatious torment. Each one brought something special to her life.

  “I want to go home,” she said. She’d spent the last two nights at Cunningham’s loft. Weekends the three of them were together, but during the week, she had to rotate. Sometimes she wondered if they needed a lawyer to step in and help them divide the time up.

  Cunningham sighed, then gave the order to his driver.

  Before, if she’d disappointed him, he might have frozen her out, punished her with his stony silence, but not anymore. Already he was unfastening his pants, and his erect cock sprang free. He rested an imposing hand on the back of her neck, compelling her to take him deep, demanding she stretch her lips around his girth.

  He anchored her to him, forcing her to accept the fullness of his organ in her mouth and throat. The sounds of the car muffled her choked little moans as he pulled himself from her.

  “Face us.”

  She turned and tried to kneel, but the car was too small. Her hips ended up wedged between the front seats. Surely the driver knew what was happening, knew that her ass was inches from the back of his arm, but she blocked him from her mind. She looked up and saw that Jonathan and Nolan had taken themselves out as well.