Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Iopen my filthy whore mouth wide and desperate for our beautiful client, fluttering my eyelashes as I get ready for him. His cock is a gift to savour, the barbells of his fierce ladder already slick with precum as he works his shaft in his fingers. Such a tease.
The De Chante is forgotten. I rest it on the floor to the side of us. His dick is a taste I want so much more. Champagne means fizzy fuck all.
“Hungry curvas,” Heath says, smirking at Josh. “That’s what I want. Very, very hungry curvas. You’re going to be a sweet curva tonight for me, Joshy baby. I want to see it in your eyes.”
The energy thrums between them, so wild from their months apart.
An unspoken battle for control under the surface that I can feel in both of them.
The tiniest details like the stiffness of Josh’s back as he stares up at Heath open mouthed.
The way his stare is burning, even though he’s a submissive fuck boy on his knees.
And right now, he has no choice.
As he has been pointing out to me, Heathy baby is a client.
Last time we met up with the vampiric icon, he and Josh were tussling for dominance, wrestling on the bed in Maidstone and battling it out to seize control.
Their emotions were running so high it was crazy.
But here, tonight, another dynamic has taken over.
Josh is like a wild stallion, finally accepting the saddle.
Reason won the game, no matter who won the tussle.
My soul wishes it hadn’t. My grand ideas of the road ahead were kicked into touch the very moment we stepped through the door. My soul was desperate for an emotional tussle from three people who couldn’t handle the confines of common sense any longer.
But that wasn’t the case.
I was the one outnumbered, even before the discussion truly began.
My soul may be locked away safely within the confines of the kinky entertainer known as Holly, but that’s ok.
It’s fine. I have to live with it. My body is still already set on overdrive, just as it always is with Heath.
My flesh is craving, crying with the need to explode free and bask in horny brilliance with the two beautiful men in the room with me.
It’s time to embrace the role and be a sweet little curva for the evening.
“Your cock looks delicious,” I say, and angle my face higher, with a grin. “Please, Heath, give us a taste.”
“You can both beg,” Heath replies, meeting my eyes for just a fleeting second before he looks at Josh. His stare stays there. It burns fierce. “Both of you. Beg, curvas. Tell me how much you both want it.”
I find it so easy to beg for cock. I whimper and mewl, honest as I tell Heath how my throat is aching to be filled. How I will be a good girl and take more than Josh. How I’ll try harder than Josh. How I’ll do everything I can to be his good little whore all night long.
Heath taps the head of his magnificent, veined dick on my tongue, and I moan as I suck on him. I will never get tired of the salty taste. Not in a billion years.
I sweep my tongue around the swollen head of his cock, my breaths heavy as I focus my skills. My scarlet lips sucking and popping as I bob my head, silently begging for more.
“Good curva,” Heath says, and takes a fistful of my hair.
The sting against my scalp is a reward in itself.
“How about you, fuck toy?” Heath asks Josh. “Get begging with that pretty mouth of yours. You’re so under par, it’s fucking ridiculous.”
Ouch.
Josh has been surprisingly quiet during my begging session.
So when he starts up with the I want that fucking dick, Heath, give it to me, I stop sucking, stalling like a fool with Heath’s swollen cock head still deep in my mouth. Josh’s words are tough, demanding. Nothing like the submissive begging curva who should be telling our client what a god he is.
I guess things aren’t as straightforward as they seemed.
This isn’t Josh at his finest with a client.
Heath isn’t User 1543 here to Mr Rational.
I’ve seen my boyfriend full on invested in client fantasies and games, over and over.
I’ve played along with joy when Heath genuinely takes the upper hand in the dynamic with the three of us.
I’ve joined in the bliss when the passion unfolds without restraint, and Josh really does become a dick hungry curva, sharing Heath with me.
Taking Heath with me. Letting Heath have his horny wicked way with both of us, without limits.
But this isn’t that. Not tonight.
I look between them, wide eyed, with my cheek still bulging.
I start when Heath grabs a fistful of Josh’s hair. It’s much rougher than the grip he has on mine.
“You’d better try a bit harder than that, Joshy baby, or I’ll be one-starring you on the app later.”
What the fuck?!
Jesus Christ, the term one-starring is a personal insult in our world.
“Fuck you, Client 1543,” Josh says with a sneer. “You got this session at a discount, remember?”
“How fucking generous of you,” our client says.
I don’t know what to do, so I don’t do a thing, other than keep on sucking Heath’s cock while the drama unfolds. I’m a good curva until Heath pulls away.
I scuttle backwards on the carpet as things play out, taking back up the De Chante for a welcome swig.
“Cargo ships?” Heath says to Josh. “Are you for fucking real? You were next door talking about fucking cargo ships before you came in here? I’m glad the evening means so much to you.”
Josh pulls his head back from our client’s dick, despite Heath’s grip.
“It was a tiny scrap of a conversation. Not that deep.”
“Too right it’s not that deep.” Heath’s eyes scorch mine, his hand still fisted in Josh’s hair.
“Do you really think I give two tosses about how many containers a fucking boat can hold? I’ve been staring at the bastards for over forty-eight hours.
I could have Googled it myself if I’d given a single bloody shit about it. ”
He pushes Josh away and shoves his cock back in his pants.
“Fuck this shit.”
“That was my fault, about the ships,” I tell Heath. “Sorry, it wasn’t Josh, it was me.”
Heath holds out a soothing hand, like I’m the victim, not the perpetrator.
“No, no, curva. I know what’s going on here. You aren’t the one who needs to apologise. It’s the stubborn asshole next to you.”
Josh’s eyebrows crease, a flare in his eyes.
“You know what’s going on, do you, Heathy baby? Come on then, oh wise one. What’s going on here? And what’s your evidence for it? A cargo ship conversation? That would hardly hold up in court, Count.”
Heath takes the De Chante from me, necking back a swig before he replies.
“You want to play normal, which is fine. Do it. But by playing normal, I’m a fucking client, no matter how much I pay for it. Ten quid or ten million. It doesn’t matter shit.”
Heath is bristling. Fuming with a dark energy that has me wide eyed.
Holy shit, I didn’t see this coming.
He’d seemed so chill when we got here, so settled with normal that I’d been the one who was gut punched, and my brain spins. It whirs, trying to gain an understanding.
Until a lightbulb moment hits. A light that shines in the confusion like a beacon.
Heath is a bloody actor. One of the best in the business.
Fuck. Of course.
And just like that, his own walls come down, his dark energy exploding.
“I’ve been living through this whole week contemplating how the fuck we’re going to get through this new situation of ours.
I’ve been counting down the days, the hours, the minutes, trying to find a route that feels feasible.
I swear to the devil himself, I almost did get a PowerPoint presentation going, for my own head since it was such a wreck.
And then there’s you. Chatting away about your grandma and cargo containers through the wall. ”
Josh gets to his feet, still suited. His eyes are as fierce as Heath’s, his finger angry in the air as it jabs in Heath’s direction.
“This is bullshit. You’re way off track here. So far off track, it’s bloody stupid.”
“Am I? I know you pretty fucking well, Josh.” Heath sits on the edge of the bed, holding his hands out sarcastically. “Enlighten me, then. Tell me your side of the master plan. The talking spoon is all yours.”
I cringe inside, pulling my knees up to sit cross legged on the carpet.
The shell of Holly felt so strong when I locked my true feelings up, falling into my natural desperation for Heath’s dick, but as it turns out, it was only an eggshell. Now it’s been cracked wide open. Busted.
I feel like such an idiot.
I was hurt bad enough at the quiz night comment, reeling that it spelled the end of the true love triangle in all ways but via The Agency app, but now, seeing the rage on Heath’s face, I don’t know what the hell to think.
Josh walks over to the dresser, leaning back against it as he takes the stage.
“This has nothing the fuck to do with cargo ships, Heath, and nothing to do with Ella’s opinions. We haven’t come here with a plan all mapped out.”
I clear my throat.
“No, we haven’t. And I’m sorry, Heath. The ship thing was on me. It wasn’t Josh playing things down. He hasn’t been playing anything down. Neither of us have.”
Heath’s eyes soften just a touch. He nods just once.
His stare stays on me as he gives me a smile.
“Thank you for the sentiment, Ella. You’re a gem for a reason. I’ve heard whispers on the wind that you’re a creature in quite a lot of demand.”
My eyes narrow. Confused.
“Sorry, what?”
Heath tips his head. “I know someone, who knows someone, who knows people who know more people, and they aren’t like me, keeping their mouths shut and living behind high walls. They don’t stop yapping on every filming break, name dropping whenever they can.”
“Name dropping?”
“Hmm, yes. There is word going around of a golden hooker. A London trophy that people are going to be wanting a piece of.”
My stomach does a massive flip at the thought of Vinnie Hampton, and his talk of me being in demand.
“Word from where?” I ask. “Other actors?”