Triple Jeopardy (Lawyers Behaving Badly Book 2)

by Cleo Peitsche

  “You did very well,” Raphael said, his eyes intense. He freed her from the hook, then unbound her wrists. “If you can’t take more, it’s fine if you sit down. We won’t hold it against you.”

  She stared desperately into his eyes, then glanced at the rack. Her stomach heaved into her throat.

  “It’s ok,” he said. “Sit on the floor.” He leaned forward to share an intimate whisper. “Actually, you’d be doing me a favor. If we put you on the rack, we won’t get to the sex before I leave. And I really like fucking you, Maisie.”

  It was exactly what she needed to hear.

  She gratefully sank onto her hands and knees. Almost immediately she sat up, spreading her legs and turning her hands up the way Trent liked.

  “Well, now I just feel like a loser,” Trent said. “I punish her, and she handles it like a pro. But then she cries mercy before Ethan touches her once, and ends the scene completely because of something Raphael said. Obviously I need to work her harder next time. Perhaps with a cane or a whip.”

  Maisie jerked her head up to beseech him not to do that. She discovered he was smiling fondly down at her.

  “From that expression,” Ethan said, crouching next to her and turning her chin his way, “I’d say your spanking emptied her reserves.”

  He unfastened the harness and pulled away the gag. Strings of drool hung from the ball and Maisie’s lips, but Ethan wiped them away.

  “I’m proud of you,” he said. “Look.”

  He dragged a finger from her inner thigh almost to her sex. Her entire body shuddered, wanting him. Needing him, needing all of them to prove that she hadn’t disappointed them by ending the scene so quickly.

  Ethan pulled her into his arms as he stood. She felt weightless and protected in his embrace.

  He started toward the medieval devices. Maisie remained soft and yielding. She trusted him.

  But he didn’t take her there.

  Instead, he carried her out of the room.

  Halfway down the hall, he turned through a door that blended perfectly into the wall—or maybe it was the lack of light that made it difficult to discern.

  A few minutes later, they were in a section of the condo that looked like every other over-the-top luxurious home Maisie had seen in photos and movies.

  The entire wall to her left was glass, and the view outside was open sky. The rooms were much brighter, much more cheerful.

  A little less sexy, though.

  Ethan slowed as he approached an open door.

  Maisie could feel his reluctance to take her into the next room, but why?

  He seemed to push his hesitation away, then carried her across the threshold into the most gorgeous bedroom Maisie had ever seen. Thank goodness she didn’t need to watch where she was going, because she couldn’t stop gawking.

  To the left of the entrance and in front of the window was an elegant tan tub with such graceful lines that it looked like a sculpture. Adjoining it was a shower, the handle at hip height. But what astonished her was that the floor for the shower and the edge of the room blended together perfectly, and the other edge of the tile ran into the wall.

  How could someone take a shower without flooding the area?

  Apparently brown had been chosen as the room’s theme, because other than the white walls, which were mostly covered in art anyway, almost everything was some shade of tan, brown, or mahogany.

  Including the enormous bed.

  A bed large enough to easily accommodate four adults.

  Trent ripped back the top covers, and Ethan carefully laid her face-down on the most comfortable mattress she’d ever felt in her life.

  Ethan ran a finger over her buttocks, making her gasp because she hadn’t expected it. “Am I bleeding?” she asked.

  “No, of course not,” Trent said, sounding offended. “You forgot sir.”

  “Sorry, sir.”

  “Let us see your pussy,” Ethan ordered.

  She opened her legs for him. From the way the air stirred over her skin, she knew she was completely drenched. Little goosebumps tightened the skin of her arms.

  The bed smelled faintly of Ethan, she realized. Like bergamot and wood-smoke.

  With a sigh, she dug her nails into the hickory-brown sheets. They were so soft. There was something underneath, some kind of supple, cloud-like mattress topper that made her feel like she was floating on air.

  And it was all the sweeter after the torture she’d just received.

  One of the men stroked her ass. She flinched, expecting it to hurt, and was surprised to realize that it didn’t.

  “You’ve gotten far worse spankings before,” Trent said. “What happened in the black room was more psychological torture than anything else.”

  “I feel like there’s a good lawyer joke in there somewhere,” she murmured, then shrieked as someone grabbed her by the ankles and dragged her toward the foot of the bed.

  “You forgot sir.”

  Her fingers scratched uselessly at the sheets. They were designed for luxury and comfort, not for grabbing on to when over two hundred pounds of muscle had sex in mind.

  She kicked and thrashed, but that didn’t stop him. She was turned over and discovered that Raphael was the one who had her.

  “I’ve got to leave in twenty minutes,” he growled. “So I’ll fuck you fast and be on my way. Get the boots off.”

  He went to a round table by the glass wall, opened a drawer, and pulled out a sealed box of condoms. Better a closed box than an open one, right? It was stupid to feel too triumphant about it.

  Maisie removed her boots and perched on the edge of the bed, her knees together and her hair covering her chest. She felt awfully naked all of a sudden, in front of the big window—heaven forbid a news helicopter fly by—and with her bosses dressed.

  Partially dressed, because both Raphael and Trent had taken themselves out.

  She looked longingly at their thick shafts.

  Both were soon sheathed, gleaming slightly in the daylight. The sight made her horny.

  Desperately horny.

  “Put her on the coffee table,” Ethan said.

  Trent grabbed her arms. When Raphael reached for her legs, she jerked away. “Sir, what if a helicopter or a drone goes by?”

  Something animal and raw flashed in his eyes. “I’m in a hurry. I don’t have the luxury of playing this game,” he said. “It seems the lesson Trent gave you about respecting our time didn’t stick, did it?”

  He was breathing heavier as he reached for her again, and even though she’d pulled her legs all the way in, with her knees against her soft breasts, he caught one of her ankles.

  She thrashed and tried to twist away, but his fingers were like a warm steel cage. He knelt one of his legs on the bed.

  She squealed at the sight of him, powerful and determined and coming for her. He easily grabbed her other leg, and soon she was being hoisted through the air by the two men.

  “Let me go!” Heat filled her veins. “Please don’t fuck me, sirs. I’ll do anything you want. I’ll cook or clean for you—”

  “We have employees for that,” Ethan said calmly. “You’re for fucking. Now be quiet.”

  Trent and Raphael delivered her to where Ethan was waiting.

  Ethan hadn’t taken himself out yet. Instead, he stood quietly, the light illuminating the scarred side of his face. His hands were in his pockets, his expression contemplative.

  “The other side of the glass is mirrored,” he said. “No one can see in.”

  The men lowered her onto the coffee table. They hadn’t bothered to remove whatever was already on it—magazines, maybe a newspaper. Maisie tried to work them to the side, but Raphael forced her knees apart and sank deep into her pussy.

  She gasped and threw her head back.

  He leveraged his arms under her knees and bent her double, allowing himself access to every inch of her channel.

  She wanted to appreciate this, to memorize every second, but she simply co
uldn’t concentrate, not when bliss was tearing her apart.

  As Raphael pounded, her body slid across the table.

  Soon her head was dangling over the side, and then her shoulders were on the brink.

  Ethan stepped forward.

  He unzipped his pants, and it was like slow motion. She would have reached out for him if she’d been able to do anything but hang on for dear life as Raphael banged away.

  Raphael picked her up, then lowered her again, and she discovered Trent was underneath her, his hands pulling her hips into position.

  Raphael should have slowed down; it should have been impossible for him to manhandle her and share her at the same time.

  And yet…

  Both men were greedy. Pulling. Loud slaps rang out as they smacked her ass, her thighs.

  Trent pressed past her tight pucker. She felt his groan of pleasure in every cell of her body.

  Ethan looked down at her. His expression had turned sharper, and as he lowered himself toward her, she felt almost afraid.

  His hands stroked from her neck down to her pussy, stuffed full of Raphael’s cock. In her ass, Trent’s cock pounded a fast, thumping pulse.

  “I could fuck your ass for hours,” Trent whispered into her ear. She loved when he did that, his deep voice seeming to vibrate in her very bones. It was so hot.

  Raphael leaned back, though his cock remained inside her sex.

  Crouching, Ethan touched her clit. Maisie moaned. Her pussy squeezed hard around Raphael’s cock.

  “This is for getting drunk,” Ethan said.

  He rubbed a finger over her clit, then flicked it. Sizzling heat blazed a fiery path along her nerve endings.

  He flicked her clit again, and her entire body jerked as if she’d received an electric shock. When her muscles relaxed, she moaned, half out of her mind with need.

  “And this is for not answering your phone when I was trying to call you. I shouldn’t have needed to show up at your door.”

  Another flick. Another body-shaking shudder.

  She was panting hard. Her nipples were erect little peaks. They wanted to be licked, and maybe when Ethan was done with his speech and punishment, he would suck them.

  Better yet, maybe he’d let her suck his cock.

  “Give her one for not trusting us,” Trent said. “Better yet, let me do it.”

  He passed a muscular arm around her, his palm and fingers skimming over the curve of her hip and the softness of her stomach.

  Instead of flicking her, he whipped three of his fingers over her little nub. She moaned and rocked in his arms, and felt two cocks jerk in response to the movement.

  Ethan captured both her nipples in his fingers. His cock had become long, thick, and hard, and Maisie tracked it, anxious for the moment he was inside her.

  She didn’t have to wait long. He moved behind her and tipped the head down.

  Little by little, he lowered himself, taking his rightful place in her throat, and Maisie was stretched exactly the way she loved most.

  Eagerness bubbling in her heart, she sucked him and relished his unique taste and scent.

  “And this,” he said, “is for your behavior in the dungeon.”

  Nervous, she stopped sucking.

  Ethan leaned forward and pressed the palms of his hands to the table, like he was going to do pushups. Actually, she hoped he would; even though she could only see the outline of his formidable muscles through the shirt, she liked when they flexed, and she hoped to one day see him naked, to see them all naked.

  Raphael was still leaning back, leaving plenty of space for Ethan to… do what, exactly?

  Maisie’s eyes rolled back in her head as Ethan’s tongue swirled over her clit.

  Never in her wildest fantasies had she thought this would ever happen.

  A hard prick stretching her ass to its limits.

  Another in her pussy, the thick girth swollen and uncompromising.

  A third cock down her throat.

  All the other sensations: the mingled scents of their bodies and aftershave, the possessive groping, the tenderness of the skin on her buttocks.

  And the highlight of the day—of her entire life—Ethan’s tongue working her clit, keeping her body teetering on the precipice of what was sure to be the most powerful orgasm a woman could possibly have.

  “Oh, oh, oh—” escaped her throat between Ethan’s full thrusts. If the men stopped now, she would die.

  But they didn’t stop.

  They went faster.

  And in that moment, she was lost forever. The men punished her, brought her pleasure. They took care of her. Her bosses were…

  They were her bosses. They would always be her bosses.

  Ethan did something with his tongue, and Maisie died. There was no other way to explain it—she simply ceased to exist as a person, and was nothing but a shuddering, gasping ball of intoxicated ecstasy.

  She hadn’t even noticed Ethan was erupting, not until she came back into herself and realized that his cock was a little less hard, and that her tongue was almost tingling from his exquisite taste.

  As soon as Ethan pulled out, Raphael leaned over her. He kissed her mouth while he fucked her, and just as he was getting close, he pulled out and ripped off the condom.

  “I fucking hate these things,” he growled. “We’re all getting tested first thing tomorrow.” His fist jerked hard, and Trent raised his hands to her head and held her still, his fingers jimmying into her mouth, urging her jaw open.

  Making her a receptacle for Raphael’s hot load.

  Then Trent flipped her over, pressed her face into a yachting magazine, and rode his long, powerful orgasm into her ass while she grabbed at the table and tried not to scream.

  She’d previously learned that intense pain could turn into pleasure. She’d never suspected the reverse was also true.

  16

  “Sorry, but I have to go,” Raphael said, reentering the bedroom. His hands were occupied with knotting his tie.

  Maisie was still lying on the coffee table. After the men had finished with her, she’d declined their offers to help her get up.

  In a couple of minutes she would wash herself off, but at the moment she was happy there. Not lazy.

  Content. And exhausted.

  Raphael approached and bent down to kiss her. “The only good part of all this Ballystock mess is that you’ll be waiting here for us.”

  That made her sit up. “Waiting here?”

  He nodded. “For tonight. Unless you have important plans.”

  “If she has plans,” Trent said, “she can cancel them.”

  “What if the cops go by my place looking for me? Then they’ll ask where I was.”

  “They won’t go to your apartment tonight,” Raphael said, but he was distracted, his mind clearly on his work, and a moment later he left.

  Maisie started to lie back again, but then she glanced around and thought better of it. It would be one thing if her bosses were lounging around, too, but they were dressed and both on their phones, replying to important emails or something.

  She swung her legs off the coffee table and slowly stood. Her body was sore from what had happened in the torture room, but it felt nice, like she’d had a deep massage. Part of that was because of the sun. Yeah, she could definitely get used to walking around naked, letting the warmth caress her curves.

  Trent glanced up. “If you don’t want to use the shower in here, there are plenty of more private bathrooms.”

  That wasn’t a sentence one heard often. “I’ll take a bath here, if that’s all right? Then I can look down on the peons.”

  Ethan met her eyes and nodded. “There are towels in the floor.”

  In the floor? But there they were, next to the tub, in a little recessed section that was, to Maisie’s shock, heated. When she lifted the cover to remove one, a fragrant cloud of steam gently swept over her face.

  Laughing a little at the unimaginable excess of it all, she pulled out a
fluffy towel and contemplated her options. The shower looked nice, but…

  The bathtub. Definitely.

  There weren’t any faucet handles on the tub, but it did have a digital display set in stainless steel. Maisie wasn’t sure what temperature she wanted, and she was weighing the advantages and disadvantages of asking Ethan—and thereby revealing her ignorance—when Raphael exploded into the room.

  He was out of breath, and his eyes were wild.

  Maisie’s first thought was that someone had died.

  Her second thought was that she knew who.

  17

  Maisie straightened slowly. Everything seemed to have become very still, as if the air had taken weight, or if time itself had been shocked out of its rhythm.

  “Norm Ballystock,” she whispered.

  “Norman Ballystock,” Raphael said. “They found his body. Davina sent the email right before Maisie arrived.”

  Ethan and Trent were now standing as well. “I didn’t get an email,” Trent said, shaking his head in what could only be denial.

  “She sent it to my private account.”

  “Because she thought it was safer,” Ethan growled. “She shouldn’t have done that. I hope to god she didn’t say anything suspicious.”

  “Nothing that can’t be explained away.”

  Trent was still shaking his head. “Everyone calm down. This is good for us,” he said, and Maisie gasped.

  The three men cut a glance her way. As often happened when they were in work mode, they’d forgotten she was there.

  Trent scoffed. “Have some faith. I’m not glad he’s dead. What I meant is that if he’s dead, at least it’s known. At least they’ve got his body. They’ll investigate, and that’ll be the end of the inquiry.”

  But now Raphael was shaking his head. “No. It’s bad. He was found in a cheap hotel a few hours south of here. Davina thinks we had something to do with it. In a misguided attempt to be helpful, she told her brother-in-law that we were all together the night he disappeared.”

  Ethan and Trent both cursed.

  Maisie blindly felt for the edge of the tub, then she lowered herself onto it; better to sit rather than pass out, fall over. “Why does she think that?” she asked, her voice thin.