by LP Lovell
"Don't fucking move again," he says with a light growl.
And then, his mouth is all over me. His fingers poking and prodding, forcing themselves deeper inside of me. His tongue circles my clit. He sucks and nips and chillbumps sweep across my skin. I try to catch a breath because the way this feels—there are no words to describe it. He stands, his eyes locking with mine as he fucks me harder—so hard with his hand that he pushes me across the cold counter. I grab at him, desperate to find something to hold onto. He leans into me and holds his lips mere inches from mine. "Do you want to kiss me?" he asks, but his hand is going at me so hard, so violent and brutal, I can't even form words. I can only submit to this primitive drive and need and want. Complete submission. His lips barely brush mine and I let out a soft moan. Preston's fingers bend and crook inside of me, creating pressure in spots that make my toes curl.
"Are you going to squirt for me, sweet Ella?" He fucks me harder, his knuckles ramming against me, his thumb pressing down on my clit. A small smile flickers across his lips as he tilts his head to the side, his eyes falling to my wet pussy. "You will, won't you?" His white teeth sink into his bottom lip and his eyes narrow as he watches what he's doing, as he waits for me to give into him. Part of me wants to defy him, part of me wants to give in.
"Honestly," he buries his fingers deep inside of me, rubbing over me, "you don't have much of a choice in the matter." And he fucks me so hard and fast, my body involuntarily tries to get away from him, but he loops his free arm around my back, holding me in place, forcing me down on his hand. Sweat pricks its way across every inch of my skin, my legs tremble and shake, and my mouth goes completely dry. I can't breathe. I can't move. This man owns every last bit of me in this moment, and I'm certain that if I don't soon find release, I may go completely mad.
"Sweet," another brutally violent thrust of his hand, "Ella..."
All at once, the blood drains from my body, each last drop collecting in the pit of my stomach. My skin floods with a heat like molten fire, and in an instant, as if on command, all that tension, all that build up uncoils and that desperate need for relief is found. I collapse onto the counter, my core clenching, and because I no longer have control, I find myself screaming, reaching for the edge of the counter and breaking my nails from how hard I grip it. My vision swims in and out as I ride out the rogue waves of pleasure pulsing through me.
He laughs, tracing his drenched fingertip over my thigh. "I knew you would. They always do." My chest rises and falls in ragged swells, my head swimming. "Good girl," he says, and I turn my head just in time to watch his retreating back.
I don't know what just happened. I don't know what he's doing to me, what they're doing to me. I don't know if I want it, or I want to run from it because I shouldn't feel this way about the men who are paying to possess my body.
"I've laid out a dress for you," Preston calls from the bedroom. "Get dressed. No underwear. We're going to lunch."
5
The hostess shows us to the table. The bright sunlight pours in through the windows, the busy Fifth Avenue traffic crawling past. I follow Preston as we weave our way through the upscale restaurant, past the tables with white table clothes and the napkins folded to form little swans. She sets the menus down on the table—four—and she smiles flirtatiously at Preston. Her cheeks tinge pink and I feel the slightest sense of relief, because he evidently has that effect on most females. With a flip of her hair, she turns and walks off. Preston pulls the chair out for me and I take a seat. He sits next to me and opens the menu. "The crab cakes are quite delicious."
I glance down at the menu, my stomach knotting. All I want right now is a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon. I am about to ask if he minds, but catch myself. No questions. "Wine. I want a glass of wine."
Preston smirks, his dark eyes gleaming. "As you wish."
The waitress stops by and Preston orders three glasses of wine. 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.
"Are you ready to order?" she asks.
"No, we're still waiting on someone."
And she walks away.
I sit anxiously, my body humming with nervous tension. I can feel Preston's eyes on me constantly, and I pick up the wine glass in front of me, taking a heavy gulp. And then, as if it could get any worse, Tobias walks in with another man. His emerald green eyes lock with mine, holding me prisoner the entire way from the door to the table where we sit. When his gaze finally leaves mine, I let out a strangled breath. I sit here, between the two of them, thrumming with need and anxiety.
This is their game, their contract, their rules. Never ask questions, never demand anything, simply submit to their whims. I only wish I knew what those whims were. It's the not knowing, the waiting that is slowly eating away at me, and it's only day one.
The newcomer sits in the remaining empty seat at the table, smiling politely at me. He's older than Preston and Tobias, maybe in his forties. His suit looks every bit as expensive as theirs, and the way he carries himself screams of success and wealth. Yet, despite being older, he holds none of the unfailing confidence of Preston, or the raw power of Tobias.
"This is Ella," Tobias says, gesturing toward me. "Ella, this is Michael Carter."
"Nice to meet you," I say.
He nods, his eyes skating over to Preston. "Lucas, how are you?"
The conversation turns to business, but I don't hear it over the roaring of my own frantic pulse in my ears. I jump when I feel the brush of Tobias's fingers on my thigh, and grab my wine glass again, taking another heavy gulp. Then, Preston's hand lands on my other thigh, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat. Heat caresses my skin and I squeeze my thighs together. The low rumble of Preston's laughter drifts through the air, and close my eyes, trying desperately to control myself. I glance at Tobias just in time to catch a look—a warning—flickering in his hypnotic eyes, and, just like that, Preston removes his hand, but Tobias's fingers only creep further up my thigh. I find myself attempting to cross my legs, but Tobias clears his throat, his eyes cutting over to me. Inhaling, I let my legs fall open and his fingers find their way right between them. I swallow as he swipes a single fingertip over me, starting at my clit and slowly sliding down, dipping inside of me. I stare straight ahead, watching people walking on the sidewalk, the traffic, listening to the soft sound of Adele playing over the sound system, the low hum of conversation, the clattering of dishes. And then, his thick finger sinks inside, deep and fast.
Michael glances at me, all smiles. "So, Ella, what do you do?"
I panic, my heart slams against my ribs and Tobias slips another finger inside of me, curling them and pressing against me so hard I fight to not lift out of my seat. "I uh," I clear my throat, "I'm in marketing."
"Yes, we've actually just hired her," Tobias says, pulling his fingers out and plunging them back in, his thumb pressing over my clit.
"Oh, really?" Michael glances between me and Tobias. "Phenomenal."
Phenomenal indeed. I go to lift my glass of wine to my lips, but the pressure inside of me, the hard then soft sweeps of his thumb over my clit—I nearly knock the glass over. Preston catches it, smiling at me as he hands it to me. "No need to be nervous, Ella, Michael doesn't bite."
My breath hitches. My senses are in overdrive. Every sound, every touch, every glance thrown my way is nearly unbearable.
"So, what do the figures look like?" Tobias asks. "Growing, I assume?"
"Exponentially."
Another hard thrust, and I find myself leaning toward the table, fighting to keep my eyes open.
"Good. Very," his fingers curl against me, pressing against that spot that makes your breath leave your lungs, "good." His eyes cast over to me and he smiles.
"You feeling well, Ella?" Preston asks. "You look rather flushed."
"Fine." I swallow. "Fi—" A slow breath breaks my speech, "—ine."
Tobias glances at
me out of the corner of his eye and subtly, almost invisibly shakes his head as if to warn me I better be quiet. His finger circles my clit, pressing and rubbing, and I fall forward, bucking underneath the intense pleasure, under the fact that there are at least fifty people around us, at lunch, in one of New York's most upscale restaurants, the entirety of Fifth Avenue strolling past the window as I deny myself the moan that threatens to escape my throat at this very instant.
Tobias removes his hand and my lips part as a sharp breath escapes me. It's not even two o' clock and I've already had two of the best orgasms of my life. In. One. Day.
Preston is locked in conversation with Michael, and I risk a glance at Tobias, watching as he lifts his hand and slides his index finger across his bottom lip, followed by his tongue. Heat rises in my cheeks and I reach for my wine glass only to find it empty. There's not enough wine in the world for this.
Warm breath caresses my neck as Tobias leans into my side. I refuse to look at him. "Go and clean yourself up," he says quietly.
I push my chair out and stand on wobbly legs, walking away from the table. I go to the bathroom and slam the stall door, collapsing on the closed seat. My entire body is shaking and I blink back tears, but I don't know why. Why am I upset? What is there to be upset about? This entire situation is messed up, and yet, I want them both in the most primal of ways.
I clean myself up and open the stall, going to the vanity and glancing at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed, my eyes too bright, my designer dress hanging just so from my hips. They are taunting me, and God knows what his arrangement with Preston is—business partners who share women? No, that touch this morning was more than that. For now, anyway, I'm left to nervously ponder exactly what their next move will be.
When I take my seat back to the table, all three men are going over business figures, barely paying me the slightest of attention.
The waitress comes back by. Michael orders a salad, Preston orders steak as does Tobias, and as for me, Tobias instructs the waitress to bring me a Filet Mignon, medium rare with French green beans and a second glass of wine.
6
Michael waves as he and Preston head in the opposite direction, quickly disappearing in the crowd. Tobias takes my hand and loops it through the crook of his arm as he leads me to the black Ferrari parked by the curb.
He opens the passenger door, and I climb in to the soft caress of leather against my bare thighs. Once behind the wheel, he revs the powerful engine, and the entire car vibrates before we pull away, moving slowly through the thick city traffic. "You don't speak much, Ella," he says.
"I can't ask questions, and seeing as how I don't know you, that limits what I can say."
He sits in silence for a moment, and once again, that tension fills the small space, pressing in on me and making me feel claustrophobic. "Does it bother you?" he eventually asks.
"No." I stare through the window at my reflection in the side mirror. Funny how glamorous a Ferrari can make anyone look.
"Does it make you feel powerless?" he taunts, his voice laced with dark amusement.
The car stops at a red light and I feel him glance over at me. I turn to face him, wanting so badly to tell him to go fuck himself. I open my mouth to speak and he lifts a brow. I hesitate. "It bores me," I say with a slight smirk.
His eyes narrow with a dangerous glint, and as though by sheer force of will, he has me squirming in my seat, struggling for air. "Careful, Ella."
I look back out the window, watching the people in business suits hurry through the sidewalks. "This must be a game to you. A way for a man who has everything to have a little fun."
He fists my hair and pulls me halfway across the console until we're face to face. "Everything is a game.” His lips brush mine so gently. “And power is the winning card. Always. So, I ask you again, do you feel powerless when my fingers are inside you?" He’s twisting my head painfully to the side, running his nose along the edge of my jaw. "Or do you feel powerful when you're coming on my hand—" I hear the slow inhale of his breath as he brings his lips to my ear “—when your tight pussy is pulling me deeper?" he says on a groan.
And how do I answer that?
I feel like there is a wrong answer and a right answer, and then there is the truth, that when I'm with him those two feelings of powerless and powerful mix together, separating like oil and water. "Both," I whisper.
A small smirk dances on his lips when he backs away from me, his gaze dropping to my lips as he releases my hair. "Good girl." He kisses me, swiping his tongue over my bottom lip, and as I always do, I fall into him, submitting involuntarily. A car horn blares behind us, but he continues to hold my stare for a few more moments before he finally focuses on the road and pulls away.
We arrive at an office building, and straight up to the top floor we go. Tobias opens the door to an office and makes his way to the large desk positioned right in front of the large window. He leans against the edge of the desk, the sunlight and skyscrapers silhouetting his frame. I stand a few feet away from him, shifting from foot to foot. Although his unfaltering attention makes me nervous, excitement coils around me, dancing along my skin.
His eyes watch me as his fingers slowly glide over the buttons of his shirt and part the material inch by inch. I swallow hard, completely unable to tear my eyes away from the tanned skin of his chest and stomach. He tosses the shirt across the desk before reaching for his pants, releasing the button and lowering the zipper. My mouth goes completely dry when he drops his pants and stands in front of me in nothing but boxers...and then, those go as well.
He's beautiful. Every single inch of him sculpted and toned as though he were carved by a master sculptor. My fingers flinch. I want to step forward. I want to reach out and touch him just to see if he feels as hard and unforgiving as he looks. His cock is already swelling. He slowly slides his palm down his body, and by the time he fists himself, I'm burning up, barely able to breathe. Confusion swirls inside of me. Even stripped of his suit, of the staples that embody power—even completely naked, there is still something that seems to set him apart. How is it, that in his most vulnerable form, he appears even more beautiful, more powerful, more intimidating?
I watch him stroke over the length of his dick, the muscles in his arms straining and flexing rhythmically.
My skin prickles with awareness, and there's the rush of a warm breath across the back of my neck just as Preston's fingers grip my shoulders. "Like what you see, sweet Ella?" he whispers in my ear before nipping at it. His fingers loop under the straps of my dress, pulling it down as his hands trail over my arms. He lets the dress hang from my hips and a sudden chill shoots its way down my spine, my nipples grow hard as he weaves his fingertip up the center of my stomach. "So soft," he whispers. "So pretty." His finger circles around my nipple before he sweeps it along the side of my throat. I close my eyes on a trembling breath and he wraps his hand around my jaw, pulling me back against his shoulder. "Watch him," he says, placing a hot, open-mouthed kiss just below my ear.
My eyes flash open and I watch, my body growing restless with every stroke of Tobias's hand.
Preston grabs my dress and shoves it over my hips. The material puddles around my feet on the floor, and here I stand, completely naked in front of Tobias, my bare flesh pressed against Preston's hard body. His fingers spread across my stomach, his large hand makes me feel small and fragile, and desperate for him to touch me. I want him to relieve this ache that's building between my thighs, that unbearable tension caused simply by the sight of Tobias. 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. My mind knows this is another one of their warped games, a twisted trick, but my body is willing, ready to partake in whatever they have to offer. So far, their playing only ever ends with my pleasure.
Preston's hand snakes down my side and I can barely feel the heat of his skin as he almost brushes over me. My muscles clench from the expected touch, b
ut all he does is laugh, the warm air rustling beside my ear. "What fun would there be if I gave you what you wanted?"
I bite down on my lip, fighting the urge to grab his hand and place it on me, to force his fingers inside of me. He taps his fingers up my back. One. Two. Three. Four—then fists my hair, yanking my head back with such force my knees actually buckle beneath me before they slam against the floor.
I stare up at him, at his dark eyes and messy hair, and I hate myself because I want him. Leaning down to me, the slightest smirk flips the corners of his lips. He pulls my cheek against his crotch and strokes his fingers gently over my lips.
"Such a pretty mouth," he says. "Suck his cock, sweet Ella." He shoves me away and I catch myself with my palms. I inhale a sharp breath in an attempt to calm my racing pulse. All I am at this moment is a tight ball of need, a woman deduced to nothing more than mere primal want and lust, and I'm at the mercy of these two men—these two beautiful savages.
Tobias stands, his cock still in his hand, and he takes a step toward me. I rise to my knees just as Preston walks to the side, slipping his shirt off. "Make him come," he says, as he crouches beside me, his nose inches from my face, my face inches from Tobias's large cock. And then, Preston stands and steps behind me.
I stare up at Tobias, my uneven breaths blowing across the tip of his dick. With my gaze still set on his, I slowly trace the edge of my tongue over his head, sweeping it along the perfect indention. Tobias's nostrils flare and he trails his fingers along my cheek.
Preston grabs my thighs and I glance down between my legs to see him slide underneath me, his eyes locked on my pussy. His eyes narrow when he brings his finger to my heated skin, tracing everywhere except where I want him to touch. My legs tremble beneath me and Tobias grabs my hair, yanking my head back to him.
"Your attention should be on me. At. All. Times," he says just as Preston's warm, wet tongue glides across my pussy, the sensation forcing my eyes to slam closed on a soft groan. I trace my tongue up Tobias's shaft, slowly winding my way around it as I grab hold of him with my hand. I tease him. Flicking my tongue over him while I work my hand up and down. Preston dips a finger inside of me, his mouth laying over my clit, and I stop for the briefest of moments. Tobias fists my hair, jerking my head back roughly and thrusting his cock past my lips.