by Amanda Rose
Ben is pounding into me, and with every thrust, I squeeze the other two's cocks until we all groan in unison. Alistair bends forward, taking one of my nipples into his mouth again. I arch my back, making it easier for him to gently take it between his teeth and pull. A beautiful pain runs through me and collides with the pleasure in my core. I am close to coming. White lights are exploding in front of my closed eyelids. Every nerve is firing, and I don't think I've ever felt this much before. Luther runs his hands over my body until one of them reaches my folds. He spreads my lips and puts a finger on my bud, rubbing as Ben thrusts in and out of me.
I can't take it any longer. With a scream of bliss, I explode, my muscles wrapping tight around Ben, milking him as he comes in me. I hold onto their cocks for dear life, riding wave after wave of shivering pleasure. Ben pushes deep into me, remaining there, not leaving me as the orgasm continues to shake my body.
When my breath finally slows down a little, Ben moves back, sliding out of me. I open my eyes and am rewarded with his proud smile.
"Still ready for more?" Luther whispers hoarsely, and I nod, unable to speak. The intensity of this is freezing my brain, not letting my thoughts be occupied by anything but euphoria.
He takes Ben's place and pushes into me without warning, claiming his stake on me. He's not gentle, but I don't expect him to be. His groans are becoming primal as his hard cock opens me again and again. Ben covers my mouth with his lips, letting me taste him while Luther rams into me. My grip on Alistair's cock is getting weaker, but it will be his turn soon. I want them all.
Ben grasps my shoulders, pushing me against Luther, making him enter me deeper than I thought possible. With a cry and one final strong thrust, Luther comes, gripping my thighs tightly, holding me in place while his cock twitches in me. Alistair has started drawing wet lines on my belly with his tongue, working his way downwards. Luther pulls out, and Alistair's tongue takes his place, lapping up my juices that are by now spread all over. He tickles my entrance before sucking on my nub, almost bringing me to another climax.
"Fuck me," I gasp. I want to come when he's in me. He needs to complete the circle.
He licks me once more and I want to complain again, but then he promises, "Next time," in a tone that makes me shiver in anticipation. I hear him put on a condom, then he enters me and all I can see are stars. He takes my hands and pulls me up until I'm half sitting on the edge of the bed, him buried within me. He takes me into his arms, hugging me against his chest. I wrap my legs around him, driving his cock deeper into me as he begins to move. This is a more intimate fuck; he's taking it slower than the other two, but it's no less intense. I grind my hips against him, relishing in the knowledge that the other two are watching us. I don't recognise this new, exhibitionist me, but she's taken root inside and is not going to leave anytime soon.
My nipples are rubbing against the coarse fabric of his shirt while my bum lifts off the bed with every thrust. I'm close, so close. Hanging onto him in desperate ecstasy, I come, the orgasm rippling through my body. Alistair continues to fuck me, harder and harder, and he drives my climax even higher. My breathing is heavy and strands of hair stick to my forehead, but it doesn't end, he rams into me again, and again, one final time, then he comes, shaking as his cock twitches in me.
Spent, I sink back, his arms gently guiding me down onto the mattress.
I open my eyes and return the smiles of my three men.
CHAPTER TEN
A kiss on my forehead wakes me from a deep slumber. I stretch my arms - and am wide awake when my hand hits something and it shouts "ouch!".
Alistair is rubbing his cheek which I apparently hit. He's grinning though, which makes me feel less bad about it.
"Sorry," I mumble, still working on my brain-mouth coordination.
"From now on I'll wear protective armour when I come to wake you," he announces. I smile, not so much about his bad joke, but rather about the fact that he made it sound like he's going to wake me up again in the future. Often. Which means I'm going to be with him and the others for a while. Something warm and fluffy expands inside me at that thought. Could this become my home?
"I just wanted to tell you that I'm leaving. We got a lead and the other two have already gone to check it out. This could be a breakthrough, so we need all hands on deck. I sent you some audio files to translate, they should be on your desktop. Could you look at them while we're gone, and text me a summary of what they say?"
Now fully alert, I sit up, the duvet sliding down - and I notice that I'm still naked. Alistair laughs and leans forward, taking one nipple into his mouth and gives it a gentle suck.
"Maybe we can play later?" he asks as he pulls back with a look of regret
I shiver in anticipation, and the regret in his eyes turns into desire.
"Yes, and you can fulfil your promise," I respond, my nipples hardening at the thought of having him between my legs again.
"You will see, I always keep my promises."
With a quick kiss on my lips, he leaves, and a moment later, I can hear the main door fall shut. I'm alone. Which, with all the naughty thoughts running through my mind, is a pity.
Quickly pulling on some clothes, I go in search of my laptop, and find it on the kitchen table, next to a glass of orange juice, a stack of pancakes and a massive bottle of maple syrup that has become my best friend in the past few days. I've probably used up half of it by myself. Maple syrup is second only to hot chocolate.
There are five files waiting for me. Not wanting to waste any time, I start listening to the first while having my breakfast. It's a conversation in Albanian, and the audio quality is pretty bad. I'm going to have to listen to this more than once to write a proper transcript. I sigh and get to work.
A: "How many?"
B: "Twelve. One was lost on route. Two are not in the best condition."
A: "I want to see them before I pay."
B: "I'll have them brought to you tonight. One says she is untouched."
A: "Bring her to me also. I've got a buyer interested in that."
B: [laughs] "Who isn't interested in those. If I could afford it, I'd take her myself. Do you want them brought here?"
A: "Don't be stupid. Too public. I'll be at the warehouse all night. Take them there. And tell one of your girls to get them ready for inspection."
The recording ends in crackles. Their voices made me shudder. So cold, so... unemotional. But that must be a requirement to work in human trafficking. Alistair hasn't given me a date for when this was recorded. I hope it was earlier today. I hope those girls haven't been sold to man A yet.
I send the transcript to the guys, hoping that it contains useful information for them.
I make myself a cup of tea and start with the next. It's in Russian this time, and I only understand a few words. It must have been recorded at a party or in a club; there's loud music in the background and too many voices to filter out. I play with the audio settings, trying to reduce the noise. Even so, I only get that they're talking about whisky and what distilleries to visit on a trip up to the north of Scotland.
I dutifully make a note of what I've heard, but unless they're using code words, I don't think this conversation will be of much use.
The third is Russian again, a couple having an argument about him sleeping with someone else. It's quite entertaining to listen to, but again, not very useful. I make an inner note to ask the guys where they get these recordings from.
Two more to go. It's time for a hot chocolate. Alistair's super-shiny coffee machine has a function for that. It's not as good as when Luther makes one from scratch, but it will do to get me through the rest of the evening. Other people need caffeine, I need chocolate.
The fourth recording makes me shudder. It's the sound of women whispering frantically in a language I can't identify. It could be something Asian, but it's definitely not one I can translate. But I don't need to understand them to hear the panic in their voice. I wonder if these are the wome
n the Albanians talked about. But why would the guys have a recording of them? How would they get it? Did they find the women already? Maybe this is for an old mission... but Alistair said it was important to get it done immediately. I send a quick text to him; maybe he knows other interpreters who can help.
The fifth sound file is man A again, but he's talking to someone new with a strong accent. He's not a native Albanian speaker. There are others in the background, but they're too quiet to understand.
C: I'm running out of Q. [I've checked it several times, but I believe he means the letter Q]
A: Not my problem.
C: Oh, but it is. You get them hooked on it, it's your problem. When will you have more?
A: I told you, it's not my problem. Find your own supplier.
[sound of a scuffle]
C: Give me a name and I'll leave. Trust me, you don't want to make me angry.
A: Fuck you. I've got stuff on you that would destroy you. Don't threaten me. May the magpie drink from your brains [Albanian expression = threat]
C: Looks like we're at a standoff.
[a clicking sound]
C: I'll take the dark one for insurance. I want two kgs of Q at my doorstep tonight.
I send the transcript to the guys (my colleagues, I repeat in my head). A second later, my phone rings. It's Ben.
"Good work," he says without a greeting. "I liked the magpie thing."
"Albanians have some very colourful curses," I explain.
"You can tell me some tonight, I might need them in future. Alistair has managed to hack into one of their laptops, and is recording something for you now. You'll have it in your emails in a few minutes. I need you to tell me immediately what it says. We don't need a transcript, just a quick translation so we know whether to call in the cavalry."
Wow, that sounds serious. "No problem. I'll get it to you as soon as."
He hangs up and I bite my lip while waiting for the email to arrive. This is exciting, in a significant kind of way.
With a bing, the email arrives and I open the attached file. It's only a minute in length, so this won't take long.
I listen to it, and with every second, panic spreads through my body. I grab the phone and dial Ben's number, willing him to answer, but it rings out. Same with the others' phones.
"Fuck," I curse, and send them a text instead, hoping that they'll see it.
Em: It's a trap. Get out of there!
I limp back and forth through the kitchen, trying to calm myself, clutching my phone in case one of them calls. This can't be happening. What if they caught them? What would they do to my guys?
I'm thinking of calling the police, but what would I tell them? I don't know who exactly they work for, where they are, if what they're doing is sanctioned. I run my hands through my tangled hair, desperately hoping that none of the possible scenes running through my head will come true. I need them. And I care for them. A lot.
I feel like punching a wall, or someone, preferably one of those bastards that I heard on the recording. They were laughing about the 'three idiots sneaking around the building' and how they would walk into their trap as planned. I still can't get my head around it. My guys are clever, they would spot a trap, right? They wouldn't walk blindly into a house without taking precautions?
"Fuck!" I shout again, and grab the empty mug next to my computer and throw it against the wall. It breaks with a satisfying crunch. Shards fly to the ground, but I don't care.
That's when someone turns the key in the front door. They are back! I take my crutches and the phone - and a text arrives.
Genius: They know where we live. Don't open the door. Hide.
I look around the room, wide-eyed, trying to find somewhere to hide. Whatever they are doing here, they won't be interested in the kitchen, right? But all the cabinets are too small for me. Behind the curtains... No, they'd see me. Panicked, I limp out of the kitchen into the hallway, hoping that they don't actually have a key and need a moment to break into the house. There's a storage closet at the end where they keep their cleaning stuff. It might be too obvious, but I've got no choice. There's no time to look for a better hiding place.
The closet is small, but there's a flimsy curtain inside, separating a row of shelves from the rest of it. No idea who came up with the idea of putting a curtain into a tiny room that is only used for storage. But right now, I'm incredibly thankful to whoever it was.
I hide my crutches behind the hoover and crawl into the space below the bottom shelf. It's a tight squeeze, but I'm small. I curse my cast that prevents me from taking a more comfortable position. Instead I'm half-crouching, half-lying, hoping that the darkness and curtain will conceal me.
I stop breathing as heavy footsteps echo through the corridor. There must be at least five or six of them. I can hear doors open all around me; they've split up and are searching the house. For what? Documents perhaps? Evidence the guys have collected?
Nobody knows I'm living here with them at the moment, so it can't be me. I'm safe, as long as they don't find me.
My phone display lights up.
Gladiator: I'm coming.
Em: What about the others?
No reply.
Now I'm really bloody scared.
Footsteps are coming closer. The closet is at the end of the corridor, but the hallway continues to the left, leading to my little studio flat. Fuck. When they see my clothes, they’ll know that the guys don’t live alone. Maybe it won’t interest them. But maybe they’ll think it’ll give them leverage.
I don’t dare to breathe as the steps stop in front of the closet door.
“Aleks, we found it!” a man shouts from afar in heavily accented English. Please Aleks, go back, go to your friends and then piss off.
“Just a minute, there’s more this way,” Aleks yells back in Albanian. Only a flimsy wooden door keeps us apart. Please don’t open it. Don’t look. You’re not interested in this closet. Right now, magic would come in handy.
Finally, he walks away, but not back towards the guy’s living quarters, but into the other part of the house. He’ll be in my flat any moment.
And true, a moment later he’s back in front of my closet, shouting. “There’s a chick living with them. She’s got in a wheelchair in her room, so maybe she’s here somewhere. Search the place!”
Damn, the wheelchair. I’ve not used it since Ben brought me home from the hospital as I’ve not left the house. We should have taken it back to the hospital; I’m strong enough to walk on crutches now.
“Out you come, little mouse,” Aleks taunts loudly in perfect English. “Don’t make the cat come and get you!”
I’m trying to persuade myself that he doesn’t actually know if I’m still in here.
“There’s a laptop in the kitchen which is still on,” a third guy shouts and comes closes. Now there are two men standing in front of my little hiding place. And how could I be so stupid to leave the laptop on? Granted, I had to get out of there really quickly, but still, what a fucking dumb mistake.
The door to the closet opens, letting light into the dim room. Two pairs of combat boots peek out from under the curtain. I am so screwed.
The curtain is pulled aside – they’ve found me.
“Hello little mouse.” Aleks grins down at me. He’s a large man wearing thick rimmed glasses that make his cruel eyes even more intense. His shaved head is covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Behind him a lanky guy is leering happily as if he’s just made the catch of the month. I cower against the wall, but there’s no way to escape now. I’m well and truly trapped.
I just hope Luther will be here soon.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I have to give it to them, these bastards are experts in ropework. My arms and legs are tied to a chair in the centre of the living room. They didn’t abduct me… yet. That gives me a tiny bit of hope. Luther said he was on the way, and hopefully, the others are with him.
They’ve removed the scarf I’ve been wearing aroun
d my neck, exposing the bruises. Aleks gave them an appreciative look, as if he was inspecting a fellow artist’s work. My leg is throbbing painfully, I think they squashed part of the cast when they pulled me out of the closet. I struggled like a good little hostage, but it was futile from the very beginning. I can’t even stand properly without my crutches, let alone defend myself or run.
“What are you?” Aleks muses, scrutinising me curiously. “Their colleague? Assistant? Whore?”
I spit in his face. Granted, not the smartest move, but nobody calls me a whore without repercussions.
My head is thrown to one side as he backhands me. Wiping the spit off his cheek, he grins dangerously.
“You’ve just lost any restraint I might have shown. Now, I asked you a question."
I look at him, trying to put as much defiance into my stare as I can. I won't tell him anything. Not that I know much, but I don't give in to bullies. I've done that in the past, I've learned my lesson.
"How did they find us?"
His question is followed by another slap. I can feel the iron taste of blood in my mouth.
I don't reply. He won't get the satisfaction.
"How much do they know?"
Another slap.
"What are you to them?" Slap.
"How many of them are there?" Slap.
"Are you their whore?"
Slap.
Anger is burning in me, mixing with the pain of my hurting cheeks. Don't say anything. They won't stop, even if you do tell them.
"Who are they working for? The government? The mafia?"
Slap.
I'm relieved to find out that they don't actually know as much as I thought they did.
"Are there more than those three idiots?"
Slap.
My neck hurts from my head being thrown to the side and my cheeks are burning. There is more blood in my mouth now, and I feel a trickle of blood run down my left cheek where his ring cut my skin.
