29. Marlowe
CHAPTER 29
Marlowe
I have never in the past three weeks felt so much like a sex worker as I do right now, on my knees to service a stranger at my boss’s behest as that same boss looks on.
I feel like a toy, an object with no real agency and no relevance except for my holes, and I have no bloody clue why that sends waves of heat flooding my body.
I’m the nameless whore, and yet, I’m the centre of two powerful men’s attention.
I tell myself to remember that last part.
To hold it close, to harness it.
Ethan is sprawled out in front of me, long legs outstretched and hands cradling his head, like he’s at the receiving end of this kind of treatment every day.
I suppose he was, until Talia quit.
She told me she was his third Seraph EA.
I’m not surprised, really.
The way he spoke to me just now is so fucking nasty, so contemptuous, that if a man spoke to me like that in my place of work I’d probably crack a plate or two over his head.
Unfortunately, him speaking to me like that in this context is, for some reason, hot as hell.
I’ll show him what all the fuss is about.
Arrogant twat.
His dick is, in my limited experience, very nice indeed—long and thick and clean and very, very hard, a fact I confirm when I wrap my hand around its root.
I bend and look up at him through my eyelashes.
His steeliness is still there, but it’s banking, building into something far more ominous.
He’s a black thundercloud rolling in after an oppressive day: all pent-up danger.
And he’s planning on unleashing it all on me.
I dive in, acutely conscious of Brendan’s eyes on us.
I want to wipe the smug entitlement off Ethan’s face, I want to unravel him just like he unravelled me right now, and I also want to prove myself to Brendan.
I want his envy and his praise; I want him to think I’m the best hire he’s ever made.
Basically, I’m performing for both of them, and it galvanises me.
I lick him like an ice cream.
I take him in my mouth and suck, marvelling at the weird thought that, even if you blindfolded me, I’d know that this wasn’t Brendan.
I embrace the strangeness of blowing a random guy in his office in the middle of the afternoon and I let rip.
I take him as deep as I can.
My eyes fill with tears as he hits the spongy flesh at the back of my throat, but it’s worth it, because the sound he makes is so low and guttural and so full of unwilling appreciation that it almost makes me smile around his dick.
‘Fuck,’ he hisses through his teeth.
‘So good.’
‘Good enough to earn a fucking?’ Brendan enquires through gritted teeth.
‘Yeah. Fill her up.’
Brendan comes around to kneel behind me.
I’m bracing with one hand on the sofa, back arched and bottom in the air.
I’m basically doing the cow part of cat-cows but in porno crotchless panties.
My exposed pussy is still pulsing from its orgasm, still sensitive to the cold air circulating.
As Brendan kneels between my legs and I feel his heat, I experience the oddest sense of rightness.
This Ethan guy is very sexy.
Terrifying, but sexy.
It may be fun and unusual and arousing to be messing around with him, but the sensation of Brendan ripping foil and sheathing himself and dragging the beautiful, blunt head of his crown back and forth over my entrance to lube himself up with my arousal is a homecoming, a key turning in a lock.
And when he pushes inside me and I attempt to accommodate him with shimmies of my hips, the dick in my mouth goes from being my sole focus to a hot gimmick.
Because when Mr Brendan Sullivan is intent on burying himself balls-deep inside you, it’s hard to focus on anything else.
Even when your face is buried in another man’s crotch.
T aking both of them like this is beyond dirty.
I’m on my knees for them, my breasts jiggling freely as Brendan clamps his hands to my hips and begins to move.
His first full thrust has me shunting forward onto Ethan’s cock.
I gag. He groans. The wrist bracing on the sofa screams. And my traitorous, still-swollen pussy rejoices.
‘Fuck, this view,’ Brendan huffs out behind me.
‘It’s sensational. How does she feel, Kingsley?
Too bad you won’t get to fuck her.
Her cunt is so. Fucking.
Tight .’
‘She feels amazing.’ Ethan leans forward a little, just enough that he can wrap my ponytail around his fist like a rein.
‘I’m gonna come so hard all over her.
’
‘She’s a lucky, lucky girl,’ Brendan muses.
He must be white-knuckling my hips.
He eases out of me and pauses, and I brace myself as hard as I can for impact before he drives forward.
The way he fills me up is so sublime.
He’s so, so deep in this position, and he’s practically performing this blow job for me, because his thrust pushes me forward again onto Ethan.
My eyes are watering, I’m struggling for breath, but Ethan holds me here for a beat with my ponytail as he lets out a ragged exhale.
‘Let me tell you, love, the sight of you taking my dick from this angle while you suck Kingsley off is so fucking hot,’ Brendan says.
‘Maybe I’ll make you do this to all my mates, hmm?
God, I love the thought of that.
’
Even in the heat of the action, I bank this thought: Brendan is getting his pound of flesh from me right now.
I’ll remember, when I’m sitting on that plane with Tabs having lied through my teeth to him and taken his money, how blithely he passes me around his friends and treats me like a plaything, a free-for-all.
Brendan Sullivan is not a victim here.
It seems my and Brendan’s machinations on Ethan’s dick are working their magic, for he’s growing more agitated beneath me.
The fingers of his free hand flex on my jaw, he grips my ponytail more tightly, and my glances up at him through my lashes show that impassive face of his contorting as his arousal builds.
And for all that I’m stuck between the two of them, impaled at both ends by their dicks, I get that heady rush of power, because all this grunting and grimacing and gasping around me?
I’m doing that.
‘Fuck, I’m close,’ Ethan rasps in a borderline panicked voice that’s a world away from his previous entitled drawl.
‘Let go of her, then,’ Brendan orders.
As soon as Ethan has released my hair, Brendan is bending over me and wrapping his arms around my chest and hauling me up onto my knees.
He moulds me to him, my bare back against the firm bulk of his cotton-covered pecs, one hand stroking over one of my exposed breasts and the other sliding down between my legs to find the gap in my panties.
‘Put your arms around my neck, love,’ he tells me, and I do.
I lean back and I grip the back of his head as best I can as he dips his face to my shoulder.
It’s only then that my gaze meets Ethan’s.
The expression on his face tells me exactly what kind of sight I must make, stretched out like this for Brendan in my useless scraps of black lace, his fingers working my clit, my knees bracketing his.
Ethan looks unleashed.
There’s no other word for it.
Gone is the bored arrogance, the insouciance, with which he greeted us.
His jaw is clenched so tightly that the muscles are jumping on both sides of it; his eyes are wild; and he’s managed during the course of his blow job to mess up all that dirty blonde hair pretty impressively.
He gets to his feet, gripping his cock like it’s an unexploded grenade, his shirt undone and trousers hanging by a thread around his hips.
‘Show her who’s boss, why don’t you?
’ Brendan goads him.
‘I fucking will,’ Ethan says in a low, rough voice that would be terrifying if it wasn’t so hot.
Brendan moves the hand that was on my breast and wraps it around my neck.
He has me by the neck and by the clit.
I am, to all intents and purposes, naked between two riled up, still-dressed billionaires.
They’re using me as a pawn in their weird, fucked-up game of rutting horns.
Brendan is huge and hot and hard inside me, his dick pulsing angrily inside my front wall as he holds off on thrusting again until Ethan’s done his part.
My lips feel puffy, and I can still taste Ethan’s precum.
I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on in my life.
Brendan circles my soaking clit with infuriatingly light, slow circles, and I attempt to bear down against his finger, but I can’t.
I’m held in place by his dick and his chokehold.
‘Stop it. Stay nice and still like a good girl and let Kingsley use you how he wants, and then I’ll make it all feel better.
Got it?’
‘Got it,’ I whisper, fixing my eyes on Ethan, who’s towering over me.
I watch, transfixed, as he runs his hand over his shaft once, twice, three times.
Each time he does it, he closes his eyes as if he’s in agony.
And then he’s coming, shooting great white ropes of cum that hit me on the jaw, the chest, with warm, wet lacerations, his exhales laced with low, anguished cries.
One man has marked me as another man pulses inside me, and I feel the oddest mixture of debased and triumphant.
Brendan releases me from his grip and uses both hands to smear Ethan’s cum over my skin, rubbing it into my nipples and my stomach.
‘Look what you made him do,’ he croons.
‘Little fucking seductress. You’re too fucking lovely for us not to want to mess you up.
’ Then, ‘Out of the way,’ he grunts at Ethan, who’s standing, head thrown back and hand still wrapped around his cock, looking utterly spent and not a little dazed.
‘Hands and knees,’ he tells me, and I brace once again.
Brendan wraps one arm tightly around my cum-smeared stomach and proceeds to absolutely let rip, his thrusts hard and fast and aggressive, as if he’s trying to get as many in as humanly possible before he, too, capitulates.
It’s so much sensation and exactly what I need, and I’m powerless to withstand it in my current, hyper-aroused state.
So I brace, my marked skin growing cool, my pussy utterly molten, and I fix my gaze on Ethan’s shiny black shoes as Brendan pummels into me.
It’s too good it’s too good it’s too good?—
I shatter.
Shatter . I soar through the air, oblivious to the excruciating vulnerability of this situation, oblivious to everything that’s not the white-hot pleasure Brendan’s dick is wringing from somewhere deep inside my body.
‘Look at that,’ Ethan says in a still-strained voice.
His shoes move to my left, presumably for a better view of the action, as Brendan hardens and stills in that glorious, miraculous way, before he too shatters inside me with noisy grunts that make me feel like I’m being fucked by the Beast himself.
Two guys.
Two holes.
Orgasms all round.
It’s a new low.
Or a new high.
In this moment, I genuinely can’t work out which.
I t strikes me on the way back to the office that this is the perfect chance to notify Brendan of my intention to take leave.
I’m not sure if it’s an opportunity to regain some semblance of control or if I have a vague belief that he owes me one, that it would be unseemly of him to complain about my taking leave when I’ve just accommodated one of his most taboo fantasies.
I may have had a couple of orgasms, but I’m in no doubt as to who was servicing who this afternoon.
Besides, he’s doom-scrolling on his phone and largely ignoring me, which, given what just went down, is an excellent reminder that what we have is purely transactional in nature.
At no point since we left Ethan’s office has he checked in to ask me how I’m doing.
Sure, I’m about to lie to him, but this job is a means to an end, and when the means get as extreme as that, it’s even more important for me to secure my end.
The final payday I require to front Tabby’s medical bills isn’t until next week, but even if Brendan threw his toys fully out of the pram and sacked me over taking leave, he’d still have to give me a month’s notice.
It’s unlikely, though.
I’m counting on the fact that I’ve earned some serious brownie points this afternoon and shown him that I’ve got what it takes to be a valued Seraph EA.
‘Have you got a sec?’ I ask him.
‘Sure,’ he says without looking up from Strava.
I roll my eyes at the side of his stupidly handsome face.
So hot, but so rude.
It’s a standard correlation in men.
Just as today’s little threesome is probably standard for guys like Brendan—though usually he’s probably juggling multiple women.
‘I’ve been selected for jury duty, I’m afraid.
It starts in two weeks and they expect to need me for another two.
’
He looks over at me, frowns, then returns to his phone.
‘That’s fine. We can get you out of it.
Elaine can help you.
’
‘I’m afraid I’ve already tried.
I got the call-up a week ago and I’ve been fighting it, but they’re resolute.
’
That gets his attention.
He throws his phone onto the expanse of leather between us.
‘Fuck’s sake. Escalate it.
I can’t spare you.’
‘I have escalated it,’ I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
‘They won’t budge. I’ve declined it twice before, which hasn’t helped my case.
’
He glares at me.
‘What the fuck am I supposed to do while you’re away?
’
‘I checked the protocol with Camille. She said they can send in a replacement.’ Though the thought of sending in another woman to bend over for my gorgeous, entitled boss while I’m away is strangely horrifying.
Maybe it’s just because our entire setup is so strange, or maybe it’s because having someone else take over both sides of my role would underscore precisely how disposable, how replaceable, I really am.
‘Or I can ask Elaine to cover,’ I add.
‘And I can get online every evening and play catch-up, too.’
In reality, I’ll be logging in from the hospital, but he doesn’t need to know that.
He’s still scowling.
That good-looking face of his gives excellent petulance.
He’s actually sticking that plump, suckable lower lip out.
He’s so sulky it makes me want to burst out laughing, but it also hardens my resolve.
‘It’s ridiculous,’ he spits out.
‘Let me know who to call and I’ll do it.
People like us don’t need to bother with shit like that.
There are enough lazy tossers sitting around on their arses and collecting the dole while we hold down actual jobs.
Why can’t they find someone else to do it?
’
This is the problem with people like Brendan—people who’ve accumulated so much wealth and power that they believe it absolves them from any civic responsibility, or any responsibility that causes them the remotest inconvenience, for that matter.
He thinks that because he and his company pay billions in taxes, that lets him off the hook, and it bloody well doesn’t.
His attitude is the epitome of entitlement, and elitism, and double standards, and just— grrrrr.
I may not be doing jury duty this time—I may be taking the time to save my daughter’s life—but what Mr Sullivan doesn’t know is that I’ve done it before.
I’ve never turned it down.
I did a week’s worth of it two years ago, and it was, as a working single mother, a gigantic pain in the arse to juggle it.
But I did it, because I believe that every person in the UK has the right to be tried before a jury of their peers.
My sense of being inconvenienced, and Brendan’s, should come a distant second to that.
‘That’s a terrible attitude.
Having everyone pull their weight is part of our democratic process.
Besides, I like to think I’d add something to the process.
We need our juries to be a good mix of professions and intellects and emotional intelligence.
’ I clear my throat.
‘So I’m not interested in trying to wriggle out of my duty.
I’m genuinely sorry to have to take leave so early on in this role.
But I’ll speak to Elaine later, and I mean it when I say I’ll pick up as much of the slack as I can out of hours.
’
‘Shit!’ he says suddenly.
‘You’ll miss the summit.
I was counting on having you there.
’
I grimace. I know what a big deal this summit is for Brendan and the management team as a whole, and I hate that I’ll be AWOL.
At the very least, I suspect he could do with a cheeky blow job to take the edge off before he goes on stage to deliver his address.
‘I know, and I’m so, so sorry.
I really am. But I’m going to include Elaine on all the handover stuff from here on in.
It seems like the strategy team is planning on doing the whole presentation, and Elaine seems to be a font of knowledge about the event.
’ It’s true. Apparently she’s managed the firm’s appearances at all the previous summits, which I believe have been dotted around Europe.
He gives me a death stare and picks up his phone again.
‘Fucking idealistic bullshit. This had better not affect me or mess up the summit in any way. Just because you’re a fantastic lay doesn’t mean you’re indispensable, you know.
’
What a gigantic wanker.
The hurt slices through me like a jagged knife.
It’s not that I expect the guy to fall in love with me, but to put me in a position like the one back there and then to dismiss me out of hand is disgustingly obnoxious.
By focusing solely on his own needs, he’s made me feel cheap.
Disposable. Dispensable.
When people show you who they really are, you should take heed.
One more payday. One more payday.
I chant my mantra as I silently plot his castration all the way back to the office.