CHAPTER FIVE – MAKING THE DEAL #2
Marnie’s still, her big breasts quivering as she looks between us.
James pours another finger of scotch, eyes never leaving her face.
“You can still walk away, Marnie,” he says, and the softness in his voice is real, not a bluff. “Not all women can handle two men at once. But I’d say that a lot like it. They get addicted even.”
She shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. I’m in.”
I watch her as she says it. Her chin is up, but there’s a pulse jumping at the hollow of her throat. Her cheeks are flushed. Her knees, this time, press together tight as if to keep herself from vibrating apart.
James sets down his glass and, in one motion, produces a manila folder from beneath the coffee table. He slides it across the glass to her.
She hesitates. “What’s this?”
“Files,” James says. “From your father’s case. Stuff we couldn’t submit at trial, but kept anyway. Some of it is sealed. The kind of thing you only get if you know where to look.”
She stares at it, her hands flat on her knees. I can practically see her brain whirring: Is this a trap? Will this fuck up my life even more? Or is this the thing I’ve been chasing since the day I learned my father was going to die?
She reaches for the file, her fingertips trembling. The city lights throw her face into shadow, but her eyes are on fire.
She flips through the top page, scanning fast, then the next. Her lips part as she realizes what she’s seeing: full witness statements, the prosecution’s phone logs, even a blurry Polaroid.
I move closer, just enough that I can see the pages from over her shoulder. “We saved everything,” I drawl. “We always do.”
She turns the next page, and her hand goes white-knuckled on the file. “But this wasn’t in the public record!”
James nods. “That’s the point. If it were, you wouldn’t need us.”
Marnie’s not even listening. She’s buried in the pages now, chasing the trail with the hunger of a starved animal. But then, when she gets to the last page, she stops, breathing hard. She sets the file down and looks up at us, like she’s just surfaced from the bottom of the ocean.
“Why are you giving this to me?” she asks, and her voice is unsteady.
James leans back, all smooth angles. “Because you’re sweet, baby girl. And incredibly lovely, and innocent. And tight on the inside, I bet.”
Marnie flushes.
“So you’re serious. One taboo night.”
I sit beside her on the sofa, close enough to feel the heat of her bare thigh against my trousers. I don’t touch her, but I don’t leave much space either.
“Yes, one taboo night,” I repeat, my voice quiet but unyielding. “You, with both of us. No limits. Nothing off the table. In exchange, you get all of it—every file, every record, every secret we have.”
The beautiful blonde is still for half a second, then steadies herself, folding her arms across her big breasts. “That’s—”
James interrupts, gentle. “Not blackmail. We’ll give you the files regardless. But we want you, Marnie. We want the real you. Not the good girl who plays by the rules, but the one who broke into an archive and lied to a partner’s face without blinking. That’s the version we want to see.”
She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Instead, her gaze flickers from James to me, to the file, then back to my lap.
I watch her. There’s a war going on inside that pretty head—rage and pride and hunger, all braided together.
Her brain says fuck you, but her eyes are glassy with the desire to be with two men.
Shit, I can already smell pussy arousal in the air, and my dick twitches again.
Fuck, I need to fuck her cunt and ass stat, so this better not take too much longer.
But still, patience is key. I reach out, slow, and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Marnie shivers.
“No one’s forcing you,” I say.
She bites her lip, hard enough to go white. “You’re bastards.”
I smirk. “That’s the job.”
She glares at me, but her chest is rising and falling fast. The flush on her cheeks is spreading down her neck, blooming in the open space between her collarbones.
James stands and sets his glass on the table, the ice tinkling.
“You don’t have to answer now. You can think about it. Or you can say no and we’ll forget it. Leave your key card on the table if so,” he adds in a casual tone. “There’s no need to come back to the office if that’s your decision.”
She shakes her head, once, almost violently. “No. I want it. The files, the truth. I want all of it.”
I lean in, so close my mouth is almost on her ear. “And the rest?”
She draws a shaky breath, the wine glass trembling in her hand. Then she sets it down, wipes her palms on her thighs, and turns to face me head-on.
“If we’re doing this, we do it my way,” she whispers, the words wavery but determined.
James smiles, slow and approving, flashing white teeth. “Of course, baby girl. We wouldn’t expect anything less.”
Marnie looks at both of us, her jaw clenched, big breasts heaving.
“Then let me give you a preview to show how serious I am,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “Because I am, boys. I want everything … and that includes both of you.”
It’s the best offer I’ve ever heard.
The air deepens, becoming smoky and heavy.
It’s like a switch gets thrown in Marnie’s body: the hesitant tremor in her hands goes steady, the nerves clear out, and what’s left is pure desire.
I see it in the set of her jaw, the way her chin lifts, the way her eyes flash between the two of us, greedy and unashamed.
She stands, and instead of moving away, the curvy girl positions herself dead center between where James and I sit. In the hush, I can hear her pulse, the faint hitch of her breath, the subtle squeak of leather as she shifts her weight from heel to heel.
Then, with a motion as practiced as it is defiant, she reaches behind herself and unzips the dress.
The teeth of the zipper part with a low rasp, exposing first the narrow band of skin at her lower back, then the arch of her spine, then the entire expanse of bare flesh.
She shrugs the dress off her shoulders, and it slips to her elbows, then her waist, before pooling at her feet in a glossy, black puddle.
The sight is better than I’d even let myself imagine because Marnie’s gorgeous.
She’s lush, full and curvy, with the big breasts and wide hips that we crave.
The young girl’s wearing lingerie that looks painted on: a black bra with mesh cups and satin trim, a matching thong that’s basically a few strips of lace and elastic, and garters that anchor to thigh-high stockings so sheer they could be made of shadow.
Her heels are sharp and glossy, adding another three inches to her height.
Her hair is a glorious golden river over one shoulder, her lipstick still perfect.
She looks like a fantasy and a dare all at once.
James lets out a low, involuntary sound, half growl, half whistle. I grin and lean back, giving her space.
She steps backwards, away from us, and stands there, arms loose at her sides, letting us look. I can see her big breasts rising and falling fast, but there’s no hint of shame in her pose—just anticipation.
“Goddamn, baby,” James murmurs, “you’re gorgeous.”
Marnie shoots him a look. “You like?”
Her voice is steadier than it’s been all night and then, the young woman reaches up and unhooks her bra, sliding the straps off slow.
Her breasts are full and lush ivory Double D’s, the nipples flushed pink and already hard, probably from the anticipation of what’s to come.
The thong goes next, one thumb hooked in the waistband, the other sliding the lace down her thigh as she bends low to step out of it.
When she straightens, she’s bare except for the stockings, the shoes, and the little gold chain around her throat. Her pussy is smooth and pink and gloriously wet, the lips puffy and gleaming in the city lights. There’s no hiding how much she wants this, or how much she’s already leaking.
I let my eyes wander, slow and deliberate. She shifts under my gaze, but not out of discomfort—out of impatience. Marnie wants to be fucked, and we’re just the men to do the honors.
I stand, unhurried, and walk to her. James stays seated, watching like a man in church, reverent and almost feral.
I stop just in front of her. The height difference is dramatic—she’s tall in the heels, but I’m taller. I tilt her chin up with one finger and hold her gaze.
“You like this?” I growl, voice pitched low enough that it vibrates her bones.
She nods, eyes huge. “Yes, sir.”
The words send a thrill down my spine. I slide my hands down her arms, slow, then grip her wrists and bring them behind her back, holding them loose but firm.
“Then let’s play, sweetheart. I’m ready for a taste of these gorgeous curves.”
I step aside and push her, gentle but forceful, so that she’s standing with her ass to the window, the city twenty stories below, her skin awash in the glow of a million LEDs. James gets up, too, now, and flanks her on the other side.
We circle her, a pair of wolves. I watch the way her thighs tremble, the way her nipples tighten as James’s breath ghosts over her shoulder. I slide a hand down her spine, so feminine in its steep arch. She mewls a little, arching into my touch as her lashes drift shut.
“Mmm,” the beautiful blonde murmurs. “Ooooh.”
I chuckle and then let my hand drift over her plump ass and down to the back of her thigh. James mirrors me in front, his hands framing her face, then gliding down to cup her huge tits, fingers teasing the nipples until she’s squirming.