CHAPTER NINE — DO YOU LIKE SHARPIES?
JAMES
There’s a sound that doesn’t belong in the executive hallway—a little feminine whimper, almost swallowed by the whisper of HVAC and the distant click-clacking of paralegals’ keyboards.
I stop in my tracks. Gibson Grant is an open-door kind of place.
We say it in every onboarding: transparency, accountability, glass walls and all that shit.
But today, Brent’s office door is pulled shut and I know that motherfucker’s up to no good.
I check my watch. What the hell is that asshole up to?
Then again, I know how his mind works, especially when it comes to curvy females.
Correction: I know how his mind works when it comes to our new curvy paralegal, though at this point, we’re way beyond discussing legal work because Marnie Williams is sheer sex on wheels.
She’s innocent, with big blue eyes and golden blonde hair, but don’t think she won’t bite.
The sassy woman has a body built for sin, and a mouth that spits challenge even when she’s outnumbered and cornered.
But that’s why we’re both so obsessed. After we fucked Marnie using the pens the other day, I could hardly focus.
All I saw was the young girl squatting on the conference table as Brent and I worked two ballpoints in and out of her pussy and asshole.
Yeah, we did that to an innocent young woman as she cried out with pleasure.
Was the door even locked? Who the hell knows?
All I know is that Marnie came like a hurricane, crying out our names as she cupped her breasts, her pussy dripping and spasming as her asshole clenched.
It was the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.
But something tells me that my law partner is back at it, like the motherfucker he is.
I hover outside the door a full beat, not even pretending to hide.
Sure enough, another moan, this one less muffled, and a name half-gasped catches my ears.
It’s her. Christ, it’s always her these days, and for good reason too.
My cock wakes up before the rest of me does, and goddamn, but I’m horny. I need in.
I open the door in a single, smooth motion, careful not to jerk it or draw attention from the secretarial pool.
Brent’s office is all bookshelves, heavy beige carpeting, and massive computer monitors.
But they’re not working at the moment. Instead, Brent’s got Marnie bent over the edge of his desk, skirt bunched around her waist, blouse gaping wide open as those big tits swing free of the demi-lace cups.
He’s behind her, his expression intent—dark, hungry eyes, straight jaw, one hand firm on her thigh while the other cradles the back of her neck.
He looks up, just a flicker, as I step in.
Doesn’t say a word because that motherfucker wants me to watch. What a sick fuck.
I close the door behind me with a click. There’s a lock that I engage with my thumb. I hear the internal latch sink home, and then it’s just us: no outside world, no cases, no rules.
“Don’t stop on my account,” I rasp, leaning against the wall.
Brent doesn’t. Instead, he takes his hand off the curvy girl’s thigh and reaches into a nearby drawer.
He produces a Sharpie—double-wide, the kind meant for labeling boxes, posters, and signs.
The label’s worn to the plastic, and the cap is gone.
He holds it up, eyes locked on me, and then brings it down to trace the length of the curvy girl’s inner thigh.
Marnie shudders. Her hands are flat on the desk, knuckles white, her nails leaving crescent marks on the veneer.
She stares straight down, not looking at either of us, but her lips are parted and her chest is heaving, each breath a little hitchy, like she’s on the edge of panic or euphoria and can’t tell which is winning.
“Go on,” I say. “Let’s see if she can take it.”
Brent doesn’t bother with a warning. He slips the thick Sharpie between her legs, brushes the tip against the wet line of her panties, then pushes, slow but relentless. The sound Marnie makes is raw, unfiltered, and it goes straight to my gut.
“Unnnnh!” she moans, head falling back as her pussy’s penetrated. “Ohhhh!”
Brent works the Sharpie inside her, the pace measured and implacable. Marnie’s eyes flutter, and she arches her back. I watch the tension knot her throat, then travel down to her clavicles, her chest. Her tits sway, nipples so hard they resemble diamonds.
Brent glances at me, a quick, dark flicker, then back to her.
“You like this, don’t you, my little fuckslut?” he murmurs in her ear, voice pitched low. “This is your thing.”
She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she lets out a breathless moan, biting her lip.
“Say it,” Brent prompts, pushing the marker in a little deeper.
Marnie closes her eyes and gasps. “Yes, sir. I like it.”
I come closer, so close I can see the tremble in her thighs, the quiver in her hands. I touch her face, thumb under her chin, force her to look at me.
“Tell me why you like it.”
She swallows, mouth dry. “Because it’s dirty. Because I belong to you. Because my pussy is yours to use however you like.”
Brent grunts with approval, then slides the Sharpie out slowly, the slick sound obscene in the quiet room.
He then pushes it back in with more force.
Marnie jolts forward, mouth opening, and I use the opportunity to slip two fingers between her lips.
She sucks automatically, greedy, her tongue laving the pads.
My cock aches, but I don’t move. Not yet.
Brent draws the pen out again, then—without warning—angles it higher, tracing a cold circle around her tight, puckered asshole.
Marnie’s breath hitches, and she stares at me, wide-eyed.
“Do it,” I growl to Brent, never breaking eye contact with her.
He grins and then with a steady, slow push, he presses the marker against her rosebud, working it until the tip slips just inside.
Her whole body tenses, her nails scraping the desk, and she utters a whimper so sharp I think she’ll shatter.
But she doesn’t. She holds, then relaxes.
Brent growls his approval, circling the tip of the pen to the right, and then to the left.
“You have a beautiful asshole, sweetheart,” he moans, blue eyes fixed to her darkness. “It was made to be fucked and stretched.”
Marnie moans again, eyes closed, oblivious to anything except the pressure of the dirty pen in her anus.
Meanwhile, I slide a palm over her trembling hip.
With my other hand, I guide her bent arm back, pinning her wrist behind her.
The angle forces her breasts out, puts her whole body on display.
I can smell her now—sweet, sharp, an edge of sweat beneath the perfume and the cologne mixing with the scent of her arousal.
Brent passes me the marker without a word.
I take over, switching from her ass to her cunt, alternating, teasing, never letting her get used to the rhythm.
She’s soaked, and every time I draw the Sharpie out, it’s coated in clear slick.
I drag it down and tap the head against her clit, watch her body jolt, then push it back into her pussy, then back into her ass.
Fuck, she looks good getting fucked in both holes and it’s clear the little girl likes it because she’s breathing in fast, helpless little pants, her face streaked with color, her hair sticking to her cheeks.
She looks like a woman on the verge of drowning, and loving every second.
“Fuck,” I hiss. “You’re incredible, Marnie.”
She whimpers, “Unnnh! Thank you, sir.”
Brent keeps his hand at her neck, not rough, but absolutely in charge. He leans in, his lips brushing her ear. “You’re going to take both of us tomorrow,” he says, voice deep and final. “Are you ready for that?”
Marnie nods, or tries to. “Yes, Mr. Gibson. I think so.”
I swap the pen for my fingers, two at first, then three, working her with slow, twisting strokes. She’s so open for us, so desperate to please. I want to bend her over the desk and fuck her until she screams, but I wait. I always wait because I want to see how far she’ll go before she breaks.
Brent reaches around, grabs the marker from my hand, and pushes it back into her ass.
He fucks her with it, deep and raw, as I continue tunneling my fingers into her slick, slippery cunt.
The combined sensation makes Marnie shiver, her legs starting to buckle.
I prop her up with a hand on her waist, keeping her steady.
“You’re such a good girl,” Brent rasps. “Taking everything we give you.”
Marnie’s voice is ragged. “I want more. Please.”
I glance at Brent, and in that instant, we’re completely aligned: two men, one mind. No room for ego here, just the pure pleasure of control, of mastery.
I drop to my knees, spreading her ass with both hands, and go straight for her pussy with my tongue.
She tastes fucking perfect, and her body jerks at the first lick.
I work her clit, relentless, while Brent keeps up the rhythm in her ass.
She’s right on the edge; I can feel her thighs quivering, her body trembling.
“Let go,” I say, voice muffled against her cunt. “Come for us, sweetheart. Climax on my face.”
She does. The orgasm hits hard, wrenching a scream from her as she collapses over the desk. Her whole body clenches around my tongue, fluids leaking down her thighs. I keep licking, softening my touch only when she starts to shudder and sob from the overstimulation.
Brent chuckles and finally draws the marker out, sets it on the desk, and brushes her hair back from her face.
“Amazing, sweetheart,” he rasps. “You were incredible.”
Marnie slumps, boneless, barely able to sit up. I stand, button my cuffs, and fix her skirt, then tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
“You did well,” I murmur. “Better than well. I’m looking forward to stretching you with my cock tomorrow night.”
The young woman sits upright slowly, straightening her blouse with shaking hands. “Thank you,” she says, her voice shaking but certain at once.
I bend down, scoop the Sharpie off the desk, and slide it into my inner jacket pocket. A souvenir.
Brent pulls out a pack of tissues, hands one to Marnie. “Go freshen up,” he says. “We’ll need you ready and clean for tomorrow.”
She stands, legs unsteady, and smooths her skirt.
I watch her mince out, admiring the flush on her cheeks and the way she holds her head high even after being fucked in the pussy and ass by a fucking Sharpie.
It’s so depraved but that’s what I love about her: the dirty nastiness, hidden behind that innocent exterior.
The door closes behind her, and for a moment, Brent and I are alone.
“You think she’s ready?” he asks.
I smirk. “Who knows? If she’s not, we’ll break her in.”
Brent laughs, low and genuine, and pours us each a shot from the bottle on his credenza. We drink in silence, the taste sharp and smoky, a perfect burn.
After, I leave the office and head to my own.
The corridor is empty now, the echo of my footsteps the only sound.
I take out the Sharpie, roll it between my fingers, and smile before lifting it to my nose for an inhale.
Immediately, I get a hit of Marnie’s cunt scent and my cock firms up in my pants again.
Holy fuck, but tomorrow is going to be one hell of a night.