by LP Lovell
"Does it make you uncomfortable, Ella?" Tobias drawls beside me. When I glance at him, I find him entirely focused on me, not even looking at the naked girls behind that window.
I swallow, my eyes drifting back to the glass, watching with a morbid sense of curiosity. "No," I whisper.
"Do you want to be her?" he asks, his voice hypnotic and seductive.
"Why? Are you paying her two million dollars?" I smirk as I glance over at him.
"Strike two."
Heat drowns me and I turn back around, clenching my jaw. "Fuck," I mumble.
"Such a dirty mouth for such an innocent little thing," he says, amusement lacing his voice.
"I'm not innocent." I turn and glare at him.
He smirks, reaching up to cup my face. His thumb drags over my cheekbone as his eyes drop to my lips. "You're pretty when you blush." He leans in, his lips almost brushing against mine. "And endearing when you try to lie." I swallow hard, staring at his lips. "Now watch the show," he says as he twists my face toward the window. His hand drops from my jaw and he sits back, watching, but it's not the girls he's watching, it's me.
When I turn back around, the dark-haired girl's face is between the blonde's thighs. She smiles as she teasingly swipes her tongue over the other one’s clit, Round and round, backward and forward. My cheeks grow hot and I shift anxiously in the chair, repeatedly crossing and uncrossing my legs. The girl on the bed bucks and writhes. Her body contorts in pleasure. Her cheeks flush and her fingers dive maddeningly into her own hair. The seductive sound of her soft moans, her uneven breaths rustle through the speakers. Each breath, each subtle beg amplified next to my ear. A deep ache settles in my lower stomach, a heated need that's building and gnawing away at me. I want that. I want to feel the lash of her tongue, that euphoric bliss that the blonde woman is now feeling.
"Don't touch yourself."
I almost jump at the sound of Tobias' voice and glance down to see my hand on my thigh, the material of my dress pushed dangerously high. I tear my hand away, and he smiles wickedly just before he places his hand at the top of my thighs, his thick fingers gripping my skin. I bite the inside of my cheek. I try not to move or squirm as his warm fingers trail in a feather light caress up the inside of my thigh. I find myself shifting, spreading my legs just a tiny bit more. "Watch them," he instructs, scooting closer to me. I do as I'm told, submitting just as he expects. The dark-haired girl now has her fingers buried inside the blonde, sliding in and out of her torturously slow. His fingers trail higher and I almost whimper. A hot breath blows over my neck and then the gentle touch of his lips has my eyelids fluttering.
"Tobias," I breathe.
"Do you need something, little lamb?"
Gripping his wrist, I turn to him. His face is so close to mine, his lips only a whisper away. I know he's playing me. I know that this is all just another trick in his bottomless box, but I just want him. He tilts his face and brings his mouth against mine. "Well?" His lips slowly brush mine as he speaks.
"Please," I beg, physically shaking as I try to pull his hand toward me, but he's completely immovable. I try to lean in, to press my lips to his, but he pulls back.
"As much as I love to hear you beg, you'll get what I give you, when I choose to give it to you." He fists my hair, yanking my head to the side as he brings his lips to my ear. "The second you want it is the second you've already lost, little lamb."
He releases me and I fall back in the chair, embarrassment creeping through my chest. Yesterday, they couldn't keep their hands off me and now...He slowly reaches across my lap and places his warm fingers on the very top of my thigh, spreading them out. His attention is directed toward the window, not a flicker of interest dancing in his eyes. One finger subtly moves toward the apex of my thigh, then, he stops, turning to stare at me. "Are you going to beg?" he asks, one brow raised inquisitively.
"No."
"Hmm." His finger brushes over my panties and my muscles clench. I want to press myself against him, but I don't. I won't allow it. My breathing grows labored with every passing second, every soft caress of his fingertip. "Women are beautiful, aren't they? So sensual. So soft." He inhales. "Imagine how she tastes, Ella. Imagine how it would feel to have her tender touch brush against you..." His finger presses over me for just a second, and I gasp. “The smell of her perfume, her long hair trailing over your naked body, her supple breasts and hard nipples against yours."
And that pressure, that sinful heat builds and builds until I'm left aching and desperate. Without warning, Tobias drops to his knees in front of me and places a hand on my thigh, uncrossing my legs and spreading them wide. I nearly come unglued. My heart hammers as he reaches for the side of my lace underwear and pushes it to the side. "So wet for them, Ella," he says as he leans down. Closer and closer until the heat of his breath blows across me causing my fingers to dig into my palms. "So wet." He presses a soft kiss over my clit, then pushes to his feet, and steps to the glass. "We should go," he says, adjusting his suit jacket.
He taps on the window, winking at the two girls as he reaches for the door. Inhaling, I follow him out, ignoring everything that is going on behind each of the windows, because I can't take it. And with each step, I question myself, wondering what I'm allowing myself to become, certain that it's the anonymity of this arrangement that has me coming unhinged. The fact that I could do things I normally wouldn't without the worry of judgment, knowing after these seven days are up I will never see these men again...there is something freeing about this all, and I don't quite understand it.
With no ability to question, all that is left is for me is to simply react. No thoughts. Just...primitive reaction, and while I've lost so many freedoms, I've never felt more free.
What are they doing to me?
We make our way through the bar and back into the lobby of the building. Tobias checks his watch as he opens the door to the outside. I follow him to the curb and, as if on cue, a black car rolls to a stop. Tobias opens the door and holds it for me. Preston is sitting in the back with his cell to his ear, ignoring me when I climb inside.
"Can't wait to see what state you're in by this evening." Tobias smirks as he closes the door. And the car pulls off.
3
As soon as Preston hangs up the phone, his gaze snaps to mine like a snake striking its prey. His lips slowly pull into a smile. "Hello, sweet Ella," he purrs.
I bite my lip and swallow, focusing out the window. I can't look at him right now. My head is spinning, my body tense, aching for something, anything. I cross my legs, trying not to shift uncomfortably. We head down 5th Avenue and the back of the car suddenly feels entirely too small, the air thick and toxic.
I jump when Preston's hand brushes over my thigh. My skin heats instantly and flames of desire lick at me, hitting me straight between my legs. I sit rigidly until I hear the low rumble of his laughter.
"Relax, sweet Ella. I'm not going to bite." He clicks his teeth as he pats my leg.
That's the problem. For once, I wish he would bite me. I'm so tightly wound, I can't take it.
"Come here," he says. He crooks a finger at me, smirking, and I reluctantly slide across the back seat to be closer to him. I focus on my fingers tangling in my lap, refusing to look at him because, when it comes to Preston, a look is enough to seduce.
His fingertips brush over my cheek, so gently…too gently. I slowly turn to face him and his dark eyes lock with mine. For a moment, I want to sink into their bottomless depths. His lips are so close, his eyes promising such dirty things. And I want them right now. I want everything Preston has to offer because he's sex and sin, want and need all wrapped up in that pretty, rugged package.
"Do you want me, Ella?" he asks, slowly tilting his head to the side.
I nod, and he lifts a brow, prompting me to speak. "Yes," I say.
A smirk flickers across his face before his mouth is on my neck, trailing chaste and gentle kisses along the side of my throat. Closing my eyes, I sit, barely m
oving a muscle as a trembling breath slips past my lips. The kisses cease and he sits up, brushing his index finger over my bottom lip before he slips it inside my mouth. I close my lips around him and caress his finger with my tongue. His eyes swirl, a threat and a promise lingering within their dark depths. I suck harder and his free hand grabs at me, his fingers roughly threading through the tangled strands of my hair. He yanks my head back and uses the tip of his tongue to trace a line over my throat. His teeth nip along my jawline. I'm panting, my body trembling beneath his touch. Suddenly, he drags me from my seat and into his lap until I’m straddling him.
"Undress me," he says.
Without thought, I shove his jacket over his shoulders, scrambling to undo the buttons of the shirt beneath it. He watches me. His cool calm conflicting wildly with my impatience. I spread my legs wider, allowing the skirt of my dress to ride higher up my thighs, and I can’t help but to push against him. His crotch hardens against me, and my stomach tenses with desire. I tear his shirt open and glide my hands over his chest. The smooth, hot skin of his body winds my coiled muscles even tighter. He's too much. Too perfectly masculine. And I want him. I know this is a game, and I know I'm going to lose, but at this exact moment, I don't care. I slam my lips over his. I know this is not submission, this is not close to lying down and taking what they give me, but I'm done with that. I have allowed Tobias to taunt me like some pet, but Preston is a different animal. Altogether less tame, far more unpredictable, but driven by instinct. I yank at his belt, shoving his pants down before I thrust my hand beneath the elastic of his boxers. I moan against his lips when my fingers wrap around his red hot, silky flesh, hard and willing in my hand.
"You're so fucking sweet, Ella," he murmurs against my lips. His fingers encircle my own, guiding my hand up and down his length. That ache flares, settling right between my legs. I roll my hips and my pussy brushes against his hand still wrapped around mine. My lips part, then pull into a small smile at that tiny stroke of relief. Preston's lips dance over my jaw, placing hot, wet kisses on my skin, but other than that, he doesn’t touch me. And it's driving me insane. I grab his free hand and shove it between my legs.
Huffing a small laugh, he bites the side of my neck. "You're so wet, Ella," he groans tightening our combined grip on his cock. "How much do you want my fingers in your pussy?"
I grip a handful of his hair, tugging his head back. "Too much."
He grins. His eyes drop to my lips. "Make me come," he whispers, leaning in and nipping at my bottom lip. "Make me come for you, sweet Ella." His hand moves harder, faster, and I feel his cock swell in my grasp. His expression tightens and a long, deep groan slips from his lips. It's so primal, so masculine. Each muscle in his body tenses as our pace picks up. I bite my lip, staring at his dick in our hands before my eyes flick to his.
"Come for me, Preston," I say, and his lips part, his chest heaving as his face goes slack. He throws his head back against the seat, groaning as stream after stream of thick, white come spurts over his stomach, dripping down the defined landscape of his abs.
He glances down, his chest heaving as he drags one finger through the sticky mess on his stomach. Smiling, he holds that finger to my face. And like the obedient little toy I am, I open my lips and allow him to slide his come-covered finger inside my mouth, then I suck the salty taste from his finger. His eyes close and his nostrils flare. "You make this hard," he mumbles beneath his breath.
He pulls a pack of tissues from some side compartment in the car, takes one out, and cleans himself up before he yanks his pants up and buckles his belt. I've never felt so completely unhinged and desperate. There is a bone deep longing for him to touch me that feels as though it's incinerating me from the inside out. His gaze drops to the buttons of his shirt as he carefully fastens them, one at a time. And I sit here, waiting, even though I know I've already been dismissed. "Preston..."
He looks up with a wry smile. I close my eyes, breathing in the scent of his cologne. "Please," I breathe.
"Sweet Ella," he says on a groan. "I do love to hear you beg." He pulls me close and presses his lips to my forehead. "And I love the feel of your tight little pussy coming on my hand." I open my eyes, meeting his dark gaze. "But that's not today's game."
"What?"
"Did you forget that fact?"
I swallow hard, shame quickly over shadowing my desperation. "No."
"Good,” he says as he takes my chin in his hand, stroking his fingers over my jaw. The gentle caresses grow more forceful and imprisoning. “Don't ever forget that, because the second you do..." He leans in, bringing his lips to my ear. "You've already lost."
4
I never know where we're going, so I'm surprised when we pull up outside Tobias and Preston's building. Preston gets out and offers me his hand, guiding me from the back of the car and closing the car door. He throws his arm around my shoulders as we walk across the lobby. It makes me nervous. The rollercoaster of back and forth emotions is exhausting. They're both bad, but, at times, I feel Preston is worse. He hides behind sexy smiles and soft words. He's more volatile and much better at lulling me into a false sense of security, so I remain tense under his heavy arm the entire ride up in the elevator. When we get inside the apartment, he tosses his keys on the side table and slides his jacket off. I'm wound up, buzzing with pent up tension. And now I'm alone in the apartment with only Preston. I just know he's going to make this torturous.
He goes to the kitchen, opens the fridge, takes out the carton of orange juice, and drinks straight from it.
"Want some?" he asks, holding it up.
I wrinkle my nose. "I don't want your spit."
He throws his head back and a deep laugh rumbles through his chest. "Oh, Ella." He steps closer to me, a smug grin on his face. "How can you say that with the taste of my come still on your tongue?"
I glare at him, cursing him in my head. "I need to go to the bathroom," I say as I turn to walk off.
He grabs my arm. "I'll come with you." A small smile touches his lips.
"Wha—" His eyebrows shoot up and I fall silent. No questions. I clear my throat. "I'd rather you not watch me piss."
He laughs again. That sound is sexier than it should be. "Well, I don't care what you'd rather, I don't trust you not to relieve yourself in other ways. Can't have you touching that sweet pussy of yours."
Rolling my eyes, I huff and head into the bathroom. "Please..." I stop in front of the toilet, “...at least stand over there." I point to the far side of the room.
Sighing, he hops onto the vanity, completely ignoring me. I manage to pull my panties down and cover myself with my dress. It's awkward and humiliating, but thankfully he doesn't try to look. When I'm done, I stand up and wait for him to move off the counter, but, of course, he doesn’t. I walk to the sink and he turns the tap on, smirking as I press against him to get to the water.
"You could move," I say.
"I'd rather have you pressing against me." His hand brushes the front of my body, grazing my chest. I squeeze my eyes shut wishing I could tell him to fuck off.
I wash my hands and dry them, Preston watching my every move. I walk out of the bathroom and he trails behind me.
"Come sit, Ella," he says as he takes a seat on the couch, patting the spot beside him. I don't trust him one bit, but I sit, and he drapes his arm along the back of the couch.
"You're probably confused," he says.
"Yes. Very." And that is an understatement.
He yanks at his hair elastic, running his fingers through the messy blond strands falling around his face. "And you can't ask questions, so that leaves you pretty fucked." He huffs a laugh. "Just know that everything we do has a purpose."
"Well, that's settling because here I was, just thinking I was some girl you two wanted to pay to be your little toy for a week. But it's deeper than that. So...." I nod. "That's good."
Grabbing my chin, he jerks my face toward his. "Such a smart mouth." His thumb presses down on my
bottom lip. His eyes close and he leans in, trailing his nose along my jawline. "Don't test me, sweet Ella," he says against my ear.
My breath catches in the back of my throat, and for a moment, that uneasy fear of what these two men may be capable of creeps through my veins like a cold shot of water. I shouldn't have said that. He was being nice. I forced him to be mean. I swallow, and just as I open my mouth to apologize, he kisses me, stroking my cheek gently.
"You'll understand it..." he pushes to his feet, "eventually."
"I would like to understand it now."
"But that would defeat the purpose of the game." He smiles at me like I'm some naïve child and heads toward the door, laughing as he leaves.
5
It’s late in the evening. The summer heat wraps around me as I step out of the car and follow Preston up the cobblestone walkway that leads to an impressive white brick house. The ever-present lights of the city cast a navy blue haze on the horizon, blocking out the stars. Preston grabs the hem of my dress tugging it down when we stop in front of the large wooden door. He holds his arm out and I loop mine through it. "Good girl," he says before he rings the doorbell. "Don't worry, you'll have fun."
The large hinges creak when an older man, dressed in a suit, opens the door. "Mr. Lucas," he says, holding the door as we walk inside. We wait at the foot of the winding stairwell. "Right this way." The man starts down a long hallway lined with ornate oil paintings.