27. Marlowe
CHAPTER 27
Marlowe
‘ H ave you ever had two men use you before?’ Ethan asks in an arrogantly casual monotone.
He’s basically asking me if I’ve ever had a threesome, so I’m unclear as to why his turn of phrase is so charged.
I drag my gaze to him.
‘No. Never.’
He closes his eyes briefly as if he can’t handle this information.
‘God,’ Brendan whispers beside me.
‘This is going to be so fucking good. You’ll fucking adore it, love.
I know you will.’
I admire his confidence.
I wish I shared it. But I turn back to him and give him what I hope is an encouraging smile.
‘I’m sure I will,’ I lie.
‘We’ll tell you everything you need to do,’ he tells me.
Those big blue eyes are softening with desire, and I’m struck all over again by how ridiculously, disgustingly attractive he is.
‘Just give yourself over to us. The more you surrender to it, the hotter it’ll be for everyone.
Understand?’
I nod.
‘Say it.’
‘I understand.’
‘Good girl. Now stand up.’
I stand.
I can’t help but notice that Ethan’s eyes are fixed on me.
They haven’t left me at all.
Knowing that I’ve been ambushed, that the guys have set this whole thing up, gives his intensity a whole new meaning, and a tiny part of me—my inner whore, I suppose—feels a thrill to be the sole focus of these two obscenely powerful, attractive alpha males.
I stand, and Brendan rises with me.
My hair is tied back today, its style a world away from Old Marlowe.
Gone are the messy, easy buns and in their place is a glossy ponytail.
I secured the ponytail before carefully curling my hair in sections and back-combing it a little so it’s all bouncy and elegant.
He starts to undo the zip that runs down the back of the dress.
I’m facing Ethan, who can’t see anything interesting just yet.
Still, he’s spread his legs wide and is leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees and fingers interlaced and facial expression, if not quite avid, then laser-focused.
His pale blue shirt is as crisp and crease-free as if he’s just put it on, the folds in his navy suit trousers razor-sharp, and his effortless polish throws into sharper focus the fact that these two plan to destroy me.
‘I got her to wear her best lingerie for you, mate,’ Brendan says conversationally.
‘ And I warmed her up in the car, so you can thank me later.’
The zip is fully open, and he slides the feminine black dress I’m wearing off my shoulders so the slinky fabric falls down my arms, the front of the dress dropping to my waist.
Oh my God.
My boss is undressing me, and my boobs are now on display for this random guy in lingerie that screams high-class hooker.
I’m well aware that my nipples are still taut from Brendan’s ministrations to my pussy in the car, and that Ethan can likely see them through the lace.
‘Believe me, I will,’ he mutters.
‘Now, take it off. Take it all off.’
Brendan pushes my dress down over my hips and the expensive fabric falls heavily to the ground with a swoosh.
I stand, frozen, for a second in only my heels and my lingerie, the dress pooled around my ankles and the air conditioning cool on my skin.
‘Very good,’ Ethan says, his eyes glued to the spot where the black lace of my panties gives way to a scalloped edge and then the bare flesh of my pussy.
Brendan kneads my bottom with his hands.
‘Get rid of the dress, love,’ he reminds me gently.
I start. ‘Oh—of course.’ I step out of it and push it to one side with my stiletto.
‘We’re going to tell you exactly what to do, and you’re going to do it,’ Brendan says.
‘So you just clear your mind and let us take charge. Okay?’
‘Okay.’ That does actually sound like a plan.
I can let them use me, but if they wanted me to choreograph something, they’d be sorely disappointed.
I may be a trained performer, but I have never performed like this.
‘Good girl.’ He sits down heavily behind me, which surprises me.
‘Open your legs.’
I widen my stance.
I have no idea what to do with my hands, so I let my arms hang to the sides, but I’m pretty sure neither of these guys are focused on my hand movements right now.
He brackets my waist with hands, his grip strong.
‘Now come and sit on my lap.’
I lower myself into a seated position.
The wool of his trousers feels somehow forbidden against my bare skin.
Ethan collapses back on the sofa and spreads his arms out along its back.
There’s something arrogantly expectant about the pose—it suggests he sees a lap dance or a blow job in his near future—but the deep sigh he lets out tells me he’s more agitated than he’s letting on.
Brendan, on the other hand, seems in his element.
I know from his questionnaire that he’s a voyeur, and all my experience of him tells me he likes to show off, too.
‘Right,’ he says, ‘I want those legs even wider. Hook them around the outside of my knees.’
I take a deep breath and do as he says, stepping each foot wider.
He widens his legs too so that I’m straddling him.
Which, of course, means that Ethan now has the money shot.
‘Can you see?’ Brendan asks him.
‘Indeed I can.’ Ethan’s voice is low.
Gruff. His eyes flicker back up to my face before returning to my pussy, which is on a platter for him.
My skin heats with mortification and shame and something else, something darker and far less predictable.
‘Does she look nice and wet?’
‘She does, yeah. She really fucking does.’
‘Let’s see, shall we?
’ Brendan takes one hand off my waist and slides it around to my front so he can finger me in front of his friend, and oh my God, the shame of it.
The shame of being played with like a little toy, of wearing this kinky lingerie that gives him full access to his fuck doll, of my boss fingering me in front of his friend who I’ve only just met .
But that’s not the worst part.
The worst part is that I’m wet.
Seriously wet. Wet enough that it’s actually audible when Brendan’s skilful fingers slide over my still-swollen clit and push inside me.
I’m so slick. I know it, and so do they.
Ethan is holding himself still, breathing slowly and steadily like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality.
His eyes haven’t left the spot where Brendan is breaching my body.
Brendan pulls his fingers out, and I let out a completely involuntary whimper of distress.
‘Such a greedy, needy little thing,’ he tells me.
‘You’re going to come in front of both of us, aren’t you?
So fucking filthy. Shame you’re not into anal, but we can still plug your other two holes with our big dicks.
How does that sound?
’
Fuck, it’s going to happen, and the hideous, awful, unthinkable part is that it doesn’t sound hideous or awful or unthinkable.
It sounds hot. It sounds like I’m a lucky bitch who’s going to get well and truly seen to by two gorgeous, dirty men.
And it also sounds like I’m a total whore, because it’s taken me approximately thirty seconds of clit action from my boss to go from I’m terrified to give it to me now.
I make myself respond to Brendan, because vocalising this stuff is still one of the hardest parts for me, even after three weeks on the job with Mr Dirty Talk.
‘Um, yes please.’
He groans and grinds against me.
He’s fully hard now, his dick straining against the fabric of his trousers and pressing into my lower back.
‘That’s my girl. Ethan, you want to come and do the honours?
’ To demonstrate his meaning, he slides both hands up my sides and cups my breasts.
My nipples tingle and strain.
‘Why not?’ Ethan pushes himself off the sofa and comes to stand in front of me or, more accurately, to tower over me.
I raise my face to his.
Fuck he’s tall.
‘They open,’ Brendan tells him.
‘See the buttons?’ He slides his hands back down to my waist.
‘Yes, I certainly do,’ Ethan says.
He looks down at me.
He’s so different from Brendan, who’s like a very, very dirty golden retriever.
This guy is freezing cold.
Intensity absolutely radiates from him.
He and Sophia would be fire and ice together if she deigned to work for him.
More pressingly, his dick is at face height and practically punching a hole in those nice trousers.
He cups my breasts hard, thumbs dragging over my nipples.
Fucking hell. ‘Here’s what’s going to happen.
Let’s get you a little more warmed up, then you can suck my dick and Brendan here can watch, and then he’s going to fuck you while you finish me off.
’
Oh my God oh my God oh my God.
I don’t know what I feel, or what I should feel, but every word is like a shot of a million emotions.
‘Okay,’ I say in a shaky voice.
‘It wasn’t a question,’ he snaps, and his dismissively arrogant tone sends another wave of desire and self-disgust rolling over me.
It wasn’t a question.
Oh Jesus.
He makes brisk work of the tiny fasteners at the top of each bra cup and lays the lace down with something approaching reverence, exposing my breasts.
‘Perfect,’ he says with an approving exhale, and it’s as if the sun has come out after a hailstorm.
‘Isn’t she?’ Brendan’s fingers flex on my waist before smoothing over my hips.
‘Yeah.’ Ethan sinks to his knees in front of me, but it couldn’t be less deferential.
I know he just wants a closer look.
I hold my breath as he takes one nipple and plucks at it before he reaches down and slides a couple of fingers over my clit and through my soaking flesh.
Oh God, that feels so good.
‘Jesus,’ he remarks, like my wetness has shocked him.
He slides his fingers inside me and glances downwards.
‘Fuck, I’ve missed this,’ he groans.
Behind me, Brendan sniggers.
‘It’s been a week, mate.
’
‘And your point is?’ He twists his fingers inside me and watches my expression.
Our faces are so close, his eyes a silver ring around endless pupil.
I’m not expecting him to kiss me, not at all, but he leans in and tugs my bottom lip briefly, sharply, between his teeth.
Then he’s bending his head to my breast and sucking, hard.
The soft, hungry pull of his mouth against my nipple is a shock that sends its waves right to my core.
I gasp and arch into the sensation as his fingers twist and crook inside me.
‘Brendan, take her other tit,’ he gasps against my skin before diving back in.
‘Fuck, yes,’ Brendan sighs.
‘Let’s make her come like this first.’
He finds my free breast and begins to tug at my nipple.
The stimulation of these three points, not to mention the fact of being trapped between these two men, played with for their own edification, is so fucking hot I can’t breathe.
Ethan starts to finger-fuck me harder.
His mouth is still glued to my nipple, and his hair smells of very nice, very expensive, very manly product.
Or maybe it’s just him.
He smells amazing. Behind me, Brendan’s bulk is reassuringly solid, his body heat radiating off him and warming me in this too-cold room.
‘If you want to please us, love, you won’t hold back,’ he urges me.
‘Just fucking let yourself fall apart.’
‘Okay,’ I manage.
I’m honestly holding on for dear life here.
I don’t know which way is up.
But then Ethan applies his thumb to my slippery clit and I practically shoot off Brendan’s lap.
His strokes are strong, rough, even, and the heat builds further within me.
There’s something so unashamedly primal about this, about hearing nothing but the ragged, desperate sounds of our breaths as they work my body.
Pinned as I am between the two of them, with Brendan’s thick thighs acting as stirrups, my only outlet for the building tension is my voice, and I allow myself to make the noises I’m so dying to make.
‘That’s it,’ Brendan croons.
‘You love it, don’t you?
Such a beautiful, golden little princess when we’re in the office, and yet you’ll let two men touch you like this.
It’s fucking filthy.
How are his fingers, hmm?
Do they feel tight? Are they stretching you nicely for my cock?
’
It’s his words, and the thought of what’s to come, that does it.
I drink up every last drop of this feeling, of their fingers and Ethan’s mouth on me.
I douse myself liberally in the shame of it all and I let Brendan’s dirty talk set me alight.