A Harem of One [The Moreland Brothers 3] (Siren Publishing Allure) (12 page)

He was hard to begin with, but the keen flash of intelligence and ingenuity she wielded effortlessly petrified the morning wood he sported into a stone pillar of erection.

“Is there anything else you want to revise?” His voice was hoarse, but firm. She shook her head and used the gold-plated pen he handed her to sign and initial the pages. He matched her signature with his illegible sprawl of letters before he tossed the papers off the bed and pounced on her. Jamison didn’t even scream, but her eyes grew wide and her face flushed, and though her mouth, opened no sounds escaped her lips. He was barely able to slip on the required barrier before he stuffed her full of cock. The only sounds her pleased body made were those of gasps as if there was not enough air for her to take a breath, and then without warning, she arched up from beneath him and collapsed in a dead faint. He hadn’t come yet, but he was close to it. But somehow to continue the raw pistoning of cock and cunt while she was mentally absent felt like masturbation. She was too delicious to stop moving entirely, but he slowed the pace as he waited for her to come to. It only took a few of the searing strokes before she began to rock back slightly. When she fully woke, he fucked her until they were both left wet and begging. This time he was near screaming himself. He let her go to work that day with few reminders of him in the form of hot passion marks strategically placed in areas where she was guaranteed to feel them throughout the day. They covered each sensitive joint on her body from the neck down. There were fingerprints as well, old and new dotting the curve of her hips where her lace panties barely covered the bruised flesh.

That Wednesday evening, Jamison arrived at his house fairly early. She was there at six, but didn’t give him a chance to ask her how she affected the change in her schedule. She was still lovely, even after a long day at work still wearing the yellow cashmere sweater and day-worn rumpled slacks he’d picked for her earlier. The moment the door closed behind her, she began stripping her clothing matter-of-factly. She wasn’t attempting to be seductive, but that wove a spell of sensuality in and of itself. When she removed the daisy-eye-yellow brassier covering her heavy breasts, his mouth watered at the hard nipples pointing directly at him. They drew him closer, magnet-like, into her personal space, and she was waiting. Not patiently, as she showed him how ready she was for more by capturing his mouth with hers. That evening she took him for the first time right there against the door. His back was to the wall, and he used his hands to support her hips as she bounced atop him.

Thursday, he dressed her in the leather chemise and lace panties he brought for her to wear Wednesday but were forgotten after she lustily devoured him against the front door. He helped her dress in the blatant accoutrements and took her to the couch, where he ogled her during their dinner of rice and peas with the jerk tofu he prepared for their meal that night. The risqué garment was composed of red leather bands joined in odd places and left gaps of flesh exposed along her entire torso and hips. Depending on her motions, he would get odd peeks of a nipple which he would suck hungrily in supplication before the leather strips would creep over the nubbin again, covering it almost demurely.

That night he used every groan, grimace, and cry against her, letting her beseech him. He used the billets of leather as tethers to drag her back for another copious helping of cock. Her climax was deliberately held beyond her grasp for so long, she used curses he’d rarely heard before in other languages. What little English she spoke was everyday discourse but sounded like blasphemy coming from her lips. When she called him no-good, lowdown, scum-sucking savage, he felt like one and fucked her harder, finally giving her what she said she wanted. But he showed her what she really craved when he supplied it to her. By the time Marq stopped punishing her for her filthy mouth and gave a careless flick of hips to stroke the upper walls of her pussy, she was gone. He meant that literally as she keened his name with a perfectly bowed back and fainted. It was pathetically easy to come along on the heels of her peak. Her pussy was still quivering and clutching his cock even in her present state of hebetude. When she awoke moments later, he saw she was satiated with the surfeit of endorphins, but lethargic. He took that to mean she was overloaded, so he stripped what was left of the oh-so-sexy red hide and tossed the ruins in the floor. Then he vowed to himself that he would let her rest the remainder of the night. There wasn’t much rest for her weary body though as it was past one a.m. when he finally let her seek the arms of Morpheus. The next day she was off work, and he was going to take full advantage.

There was a flash drive with their names on it. He planned on filling the entire thing by the time he was done with her. Even though his apartment was wired in every room, he hadn’t activated the cameras yet. He wanted something special for this first taping. With that in mind, he had a small cabin in the wilds of the mountains that he was going to introduce her to. There had been too many women in his life to make this tape any different than the footage he usually created with his assortment of ladies. The harem was filled with beautiful women, each able to own her own pleasure. But none of them needed tutoring in the sexual arts, and that was part of their appeal at the time. But the woman he desired now was in need of education, and surprisingly he enjoyed teaching her about herself. It was enough to make him damn near high, the heady feeling of seducing a willing woman to the art of lovemaking. Her wet pussy was perfect for him to relieve his dry spell. She was akin to Viagra.

Early that Friday morning, Marq awoke first. Not surprisingly, he was hard again. But there were a few other things he had to do first.

Sex, Sketches, and Videotape

When Jamison arrived at work on Sunday morning, she felt hungover. The weekend was…bliss. Marq was a superb lover, and now she was desperate to watch their video. He had promised to splice it together today, so it could be viewed tonight. Looking at the desk clock, she was ridiculously late. Enough that she may as well have given in and let him have his way with her once more like he asked her to before she clocked in today. Something was going to have to give, and she had a good idea what it was. He already told her he wanted her to give her notice at work this weekend, and it nearly caused the first fight they had since this all began.

“Jamison, I want you to do something.”

“Yes, Marq…What is it?”

“Put in your notice at work.”

She sputtered before she could stop herself. Why in the heck did he want her to quit work? Didn’t this man have any idea it was a recession? Then she remembered.
Duh, his family is as rich as Warren Buffett. Of course he doesn’t get it.

But when she posed her perfectly logically posed argument, he understood more than she knew. “Are you a betting woman, Jamison?”

“Not really, no.” She shook her head. Wherever this was headed, she had no idea. But “in for penny, in for a pound” was the first thought to cross her mind, and she let him continue.

“Well, thing is, I’ve done some shifting around of your funds in your accounts. I will bet you that I can get a thirty percent return on the balance in your accounts by the end of the month. Now bear in mind, you have already earned ten percent as of today.”

“What do you mean as of today?” The tone was sharp for her, more than clipped also a bit angry. How in the hell did he make her almost twenty-nine thousand dollars in less than a week’s time? How did he find the accounts anyway? She had several, each with a third of her money. Not hers, she amended the thought, taxpayer guilt money.

“I took control of your accounts since you gave me agreement last week.”

“B–but I didn’t give you permission to dig through my money!” At this point she was at an uncharacteristic pitch in tone, voice high and loud.

“You agreed to everything, Jamison…For one month. I own you. All or nothing at all.”

Jamie was struck stupid, and she opened her mouth to condemn him for his bold statement, though no words could describe how she felt in the moment. At first she was shocked, and then she was hot. She actually liked the concept of being possessed by him, turned into his fuck toy and pleasure puppet for the next thirty days. The thought was enough to make her angry and mildly repulsed, just as it inflamed her. How could she want a man to own her? To take over her in every way?
Ugh.
What was wrong with her? She was a modern woman more than able to take care of herself and her needs. Although, she really was curious to know how he earned her ten percent in seven days. Somehow he got her to agree without further arguments.

But now she was at work in the light of day, she was having second and third thoughts about cutting ties with her job. He was something special, wonderful in a way that most men couldn’t be to her. There had never been another man who truly liked and respected her intelligence the way he did. His debasement was sexual, not mental or physical. Her former lovers didn’t really ever desire her, just the concept of playing house to make their lives easier. Then they were more than happy to be the first thing smoking if anyone was willing to give them a chance. She had been with Aiden for years, and sadly enough she had more orgasms with Marq in one week than in the entirety of her previous relationship. Aiden never made her go weak in the knees even when they first started dating. Nor had he ever bothered to try and make her come. It was usually a byproduct of some random factor that she most likely had little hand in. Marq was exceptional in every way. He was debonair, intelligent, witty, and the lover she had only dreamed of. At the end of this month she would miss him with a passion. The advice he’d given her before worked, and with that thought in mind, Jamison typed a basic letter of resignation at her desk before she started work forty-five minutes later. The letter made its way under her director’s door at the end of her shift. She prayed that she hadn’t made the biggest mistake of her life.

When she was on her way home, the cell phone started ringing.

“Hello, this is Jamison.”

“Hey, Jamie! It’s Mak.”

“What’s up?” Jamie was curious as to what was up on a Sunday evening. They normally talked on Fridays when she was off. Then she remembered her phone was off all weekend and she had a slew of voice mail alerts when she turned it on this morning.

“I just wanted to see if we could schedule a time to work on the painting you promised to model for.” Oh. She had nearly forgotten about the hasty promise.

“Umm…well I uh, Marq, that is…” She couldn’t even use basic English and grammar at this point. How could she say anything when she had no idea what she wanted to utter?

“Oh, that’s okay, honey. I knew you and Marq may have plans.” Jamie breathed a sigh of relief. At least she didn’t have to make any excuses. “That’s why I cleared it with him first.” Damn, damn, damn it! Jamie banged her hand on the steering wheel and gave in. Looked like she was going from gainfully employed to Playboy Bunny in one week flat.

“Okay, Mak, you got me…When and where?”

“Marq can give you most of the details, but we will start this Friday.”

“I need Charli to come home. She is the only person that can rein you in.”

Makenzie’s laughter was infectious. “Not even my husband?”

“Nope, he’s like butter in the sun when it comes to you, and you know it, Mak.”

The other woman sighed then continued. “Be like that then, Jamie. You know you want to. Haven’t you ever wanted to be someone else, even for a day?”

“Not really, I’m not prone to flights of fantasy.”

“Yeah that’s true, but every woman wants to be someone else. Even if just for a moment.” This conversation was way out of control. “But with that in mind, I’m off to work on the new collection.”

“All right, Mak talk to you later then.” The phone gave a tonal beep when the call disconnected.

Jamison was mad as hell at Marq. Now she had to do this on Friday. She was so not ready for one of her only friends to look at her naked for hours on end. When she made it to her house, the phone was ringing again.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Jamison.” She had no idea how he did it, but those two words were enough to make her damp sex turn to flash-flood wet in an instant. His voice sounded like chocolate smelled to her, smooth, decadent, and dark. She lost her ability to respond for a moment, letting the sheer magnetism of his intonation wash over her.

“Yes, Marq?” She worked hard at putting a bite in her tone. She was supposed to be mad at him.

“Don’t be like that Jamison. I assume you spoke to Makenzie?” He sounded as if he were attempting to placate her.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Good. When you get here, I’ll tell you the details. But for now, where are you? We have a date tonight.”

“I know, Marq. I’m at home. Just give me half an hour.”

“Too long, you’re supposed to be on my cock right now. Don’t make me come and get you.” She shivered at the thought. The neighbors were already giving her funny looks as it was after the last week. The glances Mrs. Terrell gave her were of jealousy. Mr. Terrell’s spoke of unrequited lust. If Marq fucked her senseless again, she wasn’t going to be responsible for what she said or did. “You get ten minutes. Every minute you use beyond that time you will be disciplined for.” She kicked into high gear, pulling her trash can out front, rushing inside to grab the bags of rubbish and recycling bin. She didn’t bother with clothes. Marq was a control freak when it came to wardrobe. He already told her they were burning her old garments in effigy. If she brought any of them around him, he just might do as he threatened and set fire to her closet.