Breaking Leila (3 page)

Joseph’s cock
nudged at my back as he trailed little bites along my shoulder.

“I’m going to
get you ready for me,” he whispered, dipping his fingers between my
lips and getting them good and sticky. They walked back and found
my anus, inching inward and pulling down. I sighed, clenched on him
involuntarily, and couldn’t decide which way to push–back onto his
finger or forward to Matt’s tongue. Down deep, my climax
swelled–how would I stay quiet? Would I even be allowed to come? I
wanted to cry out with disappointment as his fingers left, but then
his cock brushed the mouth of my pussy and I moaned at the stretch
of it. Matt paused for a second–maybe he was surprised that Joseph
went first–but he didn’t waste much time.

Joseph, now
stooped a little behind me, held my hips so he could split me with
one swift thrust. The force of him shoved me against Matt’s tongue
so hard–it was enough. I blurred at the edges. My body gave way and
invaded itself. It wasn’t meant to be like this, not broken by bank
notes and curses and sweat, but I fell onto Matt’s face and only
the grip I had on his forearms kept me standing up.

Joseph slowed
inside, let me milk him in long, sharp strokes; he sank his teeth
into my shoulder again and my pulse jumped to stutter. Breath by
breath, I came back from the dead.

Matt gave me a
final lick and drew away.

“There,” Joseph said, “
now
 
you’re ready.” He slid out easily, drenched and well worked.
“I’ve not seen a hired girl do that before.” Amusement spiked his
tone. “Never felt it like that.”

Because this
is the other side of the mirror, Mr Merchant, and it is something
else.

They lifted and
maneuvered me into position, with Matt on the floor as I straddled
his hips. My temples ached, vision swam, and below, I ached in
patches bruised from his tongue-lashing, while my thighs were stiff
from bracing between the two men.

“Fuck.” Matt
took my weight with his arms. “Do that harder.” A flush crept over
his schoolboy features as I teased him. In truth, every tiny
undulation was an effort.

Joseph sat behind me, squatting so his wet cock nudged
between my ass cheeks every time I slid back. Nerves fizzed as I
worked myself on to him–
this
 
was a first. I should have said no but ah,
 
ah
, I
could smell him behind me, all mellow lemons and heat and
sweat...and I forgot how to shape the sound. My breasts filled his
palms, and he stroked them as he eased in those last few inches.
Then we were all flinching, arching, whimpering.

Tri-sected.

A part of me
wanted to stare down at Matt. To brush away the hair stuck to his
forehead, trace the curve of his open mouth. But my eyes fell shut
with the rapture, and when I blinked, Joseph’s hands curved about
my chest in a half-moon. They were the spine of a book, and Matt
and I fanned either side, one of us the opening page and the other,
the well-thumbed climax.

Two men bumping cocks through taut channels, the traipse and
burn as they rubbed through thin tissue...how did that feel,
inside? It
 
hurt.
 
But desire poured in sweat, watering eyes, the wet mess
between my legs that betrayed me as Charlotte; the more the men
filled me, the more it wanted out. Matt and Joseph knocked the
breath out of me with every jerk. I’d arrived as two girls, and if
the stab and the sting, the squeeze and the–
Jesus, go slower
–made good on their
promises, I’d split into halves. No question. At first, it seemed I
was meant to move for them, to take control. But when Joseph urged
my hips down, back, rolled them over the jut of his cock, Matt
grasped my shoulders as leverage and fought to reach the depths.
Soon I was a rag doll, shoved back and forth by warring factions,
and as the battle ached and brewed in my belly, there was no
punishment anymore. Just rough pleasure, the push-and-pull of
bruised flesh. We sounded like Roman soldiers in surgery. No
anaesthetic, sharp knives. Clinging to the bravery of the act and
moaning in drunken agony. The speed they’d gained in these few
short minutes, they had to be raw as me–and when I snuck a glance
at Matt, he flinched like every thrust was a shallow cut. Slash,
thwack...ah, euphoric. He
 
felt
 
it.

As for
Joseph...

By the time he
finished, his rasps and curses left my ears sore. Welts curved
across my shoulder in punctured ribbons because words were not the
only things to break beneath his teeth.

“Dirty little
girl.” He pulled out. “I love it.” His fingers slid from my
breasts, which were cool and heavy without his touch. The couch
braced as he sat back to watch me finish with Matt.

And Matt had
other ideas.

We rolled, he mounted, my nails tore across his back. Kisses
stifled my yelps. He was in so deep now I could practically feel
him between my hips, as he marked his territory, took me for his
own. A shudder broke loose beneath his skin, and
then...slower,
 
slower
, ah. We came down together
with warm kisses and gentle thrusts. His mouth trailed across my
collarbone.

“Thank you,” he
mumbled, exhausted.

I wasn’t
supposed to laugh at my clients, but I couldn’t help it–he looked
like he’d accidentally kicked a football through someone’s window.
“It was my pleasure.”

He gave me a
slick grin of a kiss. “I noticed.”

God, I could
never look him in the eye at work again. Joseph’s puppets, the pair
of us–would we get away with no strings attached?

Joseph helped
me up with a kiss of his own. Vodka prickled his tongue once more,
and his quick fingers pinched at my hips.

I watched both
of them wander around the suite, naked, as I lazed on the couch.
Joseph had a swagger about him and a firm-looking ass that made me
want to repay his favour. Matt had a flat, muscled belly and I
longed to drag my tongue down it again. I rubbed my thighs
together, enjoying how slick I felt in hidden places still. Perhaps
I was more of a professional than I realized–or perhaps it took a
pair of not-so-strange clients to turn me into one. The worst
ideas…the best fun, hmm?

Champagne
popped noisily in the corner. Pithy juice frothed at the sides of
the glass that Joseph gave me, and I drank more of the cocktail
than I meant to. He sat beside me, stroked his palms down my bare
legs. He’d grown hard again and with deliberate effort, pressed
against my thigh.

Matt began to
pull on his boxers. “I’m sorry, babe. We’ve got those clients
staying here and I promised to meet them in the bar at nine.” He
finished dressing, ran his fingers through his dark hair and bent
to kiss my forehead. “I’ll see you at work.” 

He blushed,
too–I mean, Jesus. What made a guy like Matt decide to spend a
Wednesday night bull-fighting with his boss? He had no designs on
Joseph’s position, or even job at the firm.

What made a
girl like me indulge him?

The door
slammed, and then it was just Joseph and I. The daylight had ebbed
since I’d first arrived, dimming the suite so lamps glowed in
corners. I took another gulp of my drink.

“I hope you’re
not planning on going anywhere. We have another hour yet.” His
fingers found my still-swollen lips, and he painted the mess of
juices down my thighs. “Do all of your clients get such a warm
reception?”

“You two don’t
really feel like clients.”

“And you don’t
feel like a call girl, but here we are.” He put his glass down.
“What the fuck’s going on, exactly?”

I waited for
the tirade of abuse, for him to tell me what a stupid thing this
was to do.

It didn’t
come.

So I told him
about my parents and their holiday business, how I’d done some
house-sitting last year and found the stack of red letters. How the
lump had risen in my throat and I couldn’t swallow it until I knew
how to fix things. A girl I knew at uni had paid her fees in a
similar way, and half an hour of Google detective later...I came
across the Ladarna website.

For three days, I read the profiles. Did the math. Browsed
for the vulgar reviews. Charlotte leaned across the bed one night,
stroked the hair from my damp cheeks.
 
Go on, lover.

“I know it
sounds stupid,” I said, “but the thought of them losing the estate
is horrible. I grew up there. I had tea parties in that garden and
I had my first…well, everything, in...” I felt more self-conscious
than I’d been in the past hour. “I owe them this.”

“Do they know
how you’re earning this money?” He massaged the inside of my thigh.
“What do you tell them?”

“Overtime.
Bonuses. A night job…all sorts. They don’t ask too many questions.
Besides, I only have three jobs to go before I hit my target.”

“And this...”
He gestured to my goose-pimpled skin. “This is easier for you than
a bar job or something?”

Yes.
 
I
laid a hand on the back of my neck. “I...no. But I think that might
be the point.”

“So it’s not
always like this.”

Whether he was curious, whether he understood, I couldn’t
tell. His narrowed eyes suggested
 
he
 
couldn’t, either–but then the
space between us got sucked in, and our foreheads bumped with the
urgency.

“You know,” he
said between kisses, “what a risk you are taking. I don’t need to
tell you that–”

“I know.”

He bit into the
soft skin at the base of my neck, and I moaned. “I’m serious. If
you weren’t so promising–and God help me, such a gorgeous little
piece of work–I’d be firing your ass, not...filling it.” He looked
me sharply in the eye. “If this became common knowledge, we’d be up
shit creek. No paddles.”

“I know. I’m
sorry–”

“Show me how
sorry.”

I went to kneel
before him, but he held me back.

“Not like that.
On your hands and knees.”

To obey; oh, I was good at that. He’d say
 
jump
 
and the safety word
was
 
how
high
? I dropped down to the thick carpet
and bent over, sticking my ass in the air, while he followed me on
to his knees.

“I think we can
have some fun like this,” he whispered.

He took my clit
between his finger and thumb, and twisted gently. The air was heavy
with my sighs, with the promise of making as much noise as I liked.
Back and forth, slowing and slower, I rocked on his hand as he
eased another digit inside me. Then he found the soft spot that
made me shudder, and thrust his knuckle into it.

“Ow, God...” I
pushed back on his hand.

Most of my clients just wanted an hour of cock worship or to
see me eating out another girl. A few wanted things I’d never, ever
tell. It felt so good to be going at my own pace, to have someone
who was bothered about what pleased me. To smile back at the man
touching me like that and want him on that snapping, chemical
level.
 
Fizz
pop
.

He smirked as
he dropped toward my ass. The tip of his tongue probed, and I
sucked on the air while he danced round the edge, pricking every
nerve ending individually before plunging in.

I shivered
against his warm mouth. “Fuck me.”

I was
ignored.

“Please, Joe, I
want you to–”

He shoved his
fingers further inside me, dragging them along the bottom wall.
Then those sticky hands were on my hips to angle them downward. I
closed my eyes as his cockhead circled my bruised lips, and when he
entered, inch by savage inch–he knew of its torment. When he filled
me, finally, I squeezed down.

“
Jesus
.” He
groaned. “Behave yourself–”

“Mmm...you
didn’t hire me for that.”

“I hired you so
you’d do what I fucking said for once.” He slowed, made me wait
hourglasses for his next stroke. “It’s more fun this way. I want to
feel you come on me again, Leila.”

He didn't talk
to Charlotte the whore. He talked to me, like he knew there was
little difference above it all. 

Harder, now. I
shoved back in fits of nerves. His fingers walked to find my clit
again, pressing beneath the hood to make me writhe and squeal. I
was drunk with it.

“Do it,” he
breathed. “Come for me.”

I braced,
poised for the peak. The things he did to me, that thing he wanted
me to do–they were working. Curses conjured spells. Magic words.
Minutes passed in curves and shudders, my cheeks flushed–

Then I burst
all over him, gasping his name.

“Mmm...good
girl.”

One spank.

Another.

Dizziness hit
first–then the undercurrent, fizzling quietly–the shock that he had
that kind of power, this statue from behind his barbed wire desk.
That I would give it to him because when he arched an eyebrow...the
world jerked with it.

Joseph knotted
his fingers into my hair, guiding my lips to his bare cock. He
tasted like me at the base, all salt and honey, and I mewed with my
mouth full. He sighed as he hit the back of my throat.

That statue
stuttered my name, his voice crumbling as I sucked him. His flesh
painted my tongue, and I swallowed air and syrup. Then he pulled
out, sprayed down my chin and over my nipples. Drew a fingertip
through it all as his breathing slowed. Made me suck it off. A few
licks later and I was still sticky, but clean enough.