CHAPTER NINE #3
Daniel had stepped back. Kate could feel his absence—his hand gone from her hair, his presence withdrawn to the armchair. Watching again. She imagined what he was seeing. His wife on her knees, naked, a man’s cock buried in her throat.
Liam had moved behind her. She felt his hands on her hips—steadier than before. Surer. Whatever nervousness had been paralysing him, Kate’s mouth had cured it. His fingers traced between her legs. Found the wetness there.
“Fuck,” he whispered. Almost to himself.
Time dissolved. Kate stopped tracking it. There was only the rhythm—Liam behind her, Jay in her mouth, the steady rocking of her body between them. The wet sounds. The breathing. The creak of the mattress.
Liam’s hands moved from her hips. Found her breasts, hanging beneath her.
He cupped them, squeezed them, his thrusts deepening as his confidence grew.
The nervous young man from the kitchen doorway was gone.
In his place, someone sure-handed and hungry, taking what he’d been fantasising about all week.
Jay was talking. Low, steady, that American voice like something from another world. “That’s it. Take it all. You’re doing so good.” His hand in her hair, guiding her, controlling the depth. Not rough, just certain.
Kate’s jaw ached, and she didn’t care. She felt herself drifting further.
Deeper into the vacancy. Her body a thing that existed for this—to be filled, to be used, to be the space where these men’s pleasure happened.
The thought should have horrified the woman she’d been a month ago. Now it felt like breathing.
Liam slowed. His breathing changed—shallow, urgent. Kate knew what that meant. Had heard it enough times with Daniel.
“I’m—” Liam started. “I’m going to—”
Jay pulled out of Kate's mouth, looked at Liam over her back. “Switch,” he said.
Liam pulled out. The mattress shifted as the two men changed places.
Jay moved behind her. His hands gripped her hips—wider than Liam’s, stronger. He pushed inside her in one slow, deliberate stroke.
Kate moaned into the duvet. He was thicker than Liam. The stretch of it, the fullness. Jay didn’t start slow. He found his rhythm immediately—deep, steady, unhurried. A man who knew exactly what he was doing.
Liam knelt in front of her. His cock was slick, glistening. He was close—she could see it in the tension in his thighs, the way his abdominal muscles trembled.
Kate took him in her mouth. Tasted herself on him. Liam made a broken sound. His hand went to her head, fingers tangling in her hair, and for the first time his grip wasn’t gentle.
She worked him. Tongue, suction, her mouth moving fast now. Giving him everything. Behind her, Jay’s thrusts were pushing her forward onto Liam’s cock, the rhythm doing half the work for her.
Liam’s hand tightened. His hips started to move—short, desperate thrusts. He was losing control, his breathing coming in ragged gasps.
“I’m—fuck. I’m—”
Kate pulled back. Kept her mouth open, her face upturned. Liam’s hand found his cock, stroking fast, and then he came—across her lips, her chin, her cheek. A strangled groan tearing out of him as his body shuddered.
Kate kept her eyes on his. Let him watch himself come on her face. Let him see what he’d done to the woman from the photographs.
Liam stepped back. Sat on the edge of the bed, breathing hard, spent.
Kate barely registered him. Jay was still behind her, still fucking her—deep, steady strokes that showed no sign of urgency.
A man with stamina and patience. Kate’s arms trembled.
She dropped to her elbows, Liam’s cum cooling on her cheek, her chin.
Jay’s hands moved over her body. Her hips, her arse, her back. Possessive, unhurried. Enjoying her.
Then Daniel was there.
He knelt beside the bed. His hands found her breasts, hanging beneath her, swaying with each of Jay’s thrusts. He cupped them. Squeezed. His face was close to hers, close enough that she could feel his breath.
“You’re getting fucked with cum on your face,” he whispered. His voice was low, steady, nothing like the careful solicitor who weighed every word. “They know what you are. You’re getting used like a brainless fucktoy.” His fingers tightened on her nipple. “A slut who exists for this.”
Kate came.
It hit her like a whiteout. No buildup, no warning.
Just Daniel’s voice, and Jay’s cock, and the cum drying on her face, and the total, obliterating knowledge that her husband was right.
She screamed into the duvet, her body clenching around Jay, her fists twisting in the sheets, her legs shaking so violently that Jay had to grip her hips to keep her in place.
It rolled through her in waves. One after another. Jay kept moving, kept fucking her through it, and each thrust sent another shock tearing through her until she couldn’t tell where one orgasm ended and the next began.
When it finally released her, Kate was flat on the bed. Facedown. Barely conscious. Jay still inside her, his pace finally quickening.
His thrusts went ragged. He slammed into her once, twice, then buried himself deep and held. Kate felt the pulse of him—the heat, the release, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough to bruise.
Jay exhaled. A long, slow breath. His hands loosened. He stayed inside her for a moment, then withdrew.
Kate lay there. Facedown. Breathing hard. Her body trembling, her face sticky, her cunt full of cum.
The room was quiet. Just breathing. Three of them, and Daniel in the chair.
Nobody moved for a long time.
Kate’s face was pressed into the duvet. She could smell everything—sweat, sex, the faint laundry-detergent scent of someone else’s sheets. Her body felt liquid. Boneless. Like something that had been taken apart and not yet reassembled.
A hand on her back. Daniel’s. She knew without looking. He traced a slow line from her shoulder to the small of her back. The same gesture from the hotel room. The same steady, absent rhythm.
Jay was the first to move. She heard him stand, heard the rustle of clothing. A zip. A belt buckle.
“Thank you,” he said simply. To Kate, to Daniel, to both of them. “That was something.”
Liam was still sitting on the edge of the bed.
He seemed to be having trouble with his shirt buttons.
Kate turned her head, looked at him through one eye.
He caught her gaze and went red—the blush spreading from his neck to his cheeks, the nervousness flooding back now that his body had stopped doing the thinking for him.
Kate smiled at him. A real smile. Warm, tired, ruined.
“You all right?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He swallowed. “Yeah, I’m … yeah.”
Jay clapped him on the shoulder on his way to the door. “You did great, kid.” He turned back to Daniel, extended a hand. Daniel shook it. A handshake between men who understood each other.
Then Jay left.
Liam lingered by the door. He’d managed the shirt buttons, but his hair was a mess. He looked at Kate, then at Daniel, then back at Kate. “Um … could I get you anything? Water? Another drink?”
Daniel smiled. “Water would be great.” He looked at his wife—facedown, cum-streaked, naked, utterly spent. “And whatever white wine you can find.”
Liam nodded. Disappeared.
Kate laughed into the duvet. The sound muffled, exhausted, helpless. The absurdity of it. A young man who’d just come on her face, fetching her a glass of wine like a waiter at a dinner party.
Liam returned a minute later. Set the glass of water and the wine on the bedside table. Hovered for a moment. “Thanks,” he said. “It was a pleasure. I’ll be outside.”
Kate smiled into the duvet. The formality of it. Like he was leaving a job interview.
Liam closed the door quietly behind him.
The room was theirs.
Daniel lay down beside her on the bed. Fully dressed, shoes and all, the way he’d been at the hotel. Kate rolled into him. Pressed her ruined face against his shirt.
“Blimey,” he said.
Kate laughed. Broken, exhausted, half-sob. She pressed her face harder into his chest.
“Blimey,” she agreed.