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“That’s my girl. Beg for it.”

Garret plants one knee on the
seat of the chair and rams my pussy like a feral beast, all while I moan and
squeal and plead. When I’m tossing my head and panting in broken
half-sentences, he reaches down to pluck my sore clit, over and over, harder
and faster, until the throbbing of my cunt walls becomes a constant ripple of
pleasure quivering through my flesh. My orgasm overcomes me, and I arch, my
fingernails grasping for a hold on the leather cushion beneath me.

“Ah, I can feel it, baby,”
Garret rasps, his thrusts slowing down but growing harder, more brutal and
penetrating. “I feel your tight cunt squeezing my cock.”

The harder thrusts vibrate my
insides, like strumming a harp string. My climax reverberates through my flesh,
my bones, concentrating on my clit and my abused nipples. I can’t breathe,
don’t want to breathe, until I feel Garret erupt inside me.

Then his rhythm falters.
Garret slams his hips against mine one more time, and his whole body stiffens.
Buried in my pussy to the root, his thick cock twitches and spurts hot cum deep
between my legs.

“Yes,” he moans, his features
softening with pleasure. “Take my cum. Fuck, yes. That sweet pussy is all mine.
You’re mine, Faith.”

The last tremors of my hard
orgasm shudder through me as Garret lays claim to me. Already, the afterglow of
amazing sex has left me slouched languid and sated in the chair. I hardly care
that my arms are starting to ache from the position or that I’m going to have
to walk out of this office past half a dozen people who will know I’ve just
spread my pussy open for their boss.

As his climax subsides, he
leans forward to lick my lips and suck my tongue. I’ve only just caught my
breath when his head moves down to my tits, and he sucks and pinches my nipples
again, until we can both feel my pussy tightening around his cock. He is
ruthless, turning me on again before I’ve even calmed down. Only then does he
slide his dick from my battered cunt and take a few moments carefully tucking
himself back into his pants, buttoning his shirt. All the while, he is smiling
down at my pink, wet pussy and my displayed tits. Finally, he reaches behind me
and unties my arms.

I sag in the chair, lifting
my legs off the arms and tucking them in front of me. It feels so good, so warm
and comforting, when Garret leans over me to stroke my hair and kiss my face
and help me re-button my blouse. I stand to straighten my skirt, and my knees
buckle. Garret catches me and holds me close as I relax against his chest.

He chuckles into my hair and
mutters, “I’ll have to remember a hard orgasm leaves you weak-kneed.”

“Show off,” I whisper.

“Mm, just wait until tonight,
my sweet Faith.”

“Tonight?”

“M-hm,” he says, stroking my back.
“You’re going to go home and take a relaxing shower and get dressed in that
tight little black dress you were wearing at that charity auction at The
Downtown Club, and you’re not going to wear any panties under it. Meanwhile,
I’m going to finish up here and go home to change before I pick you up for
dinner. Good food, wine, music, then back to my place where I’m going to tie
you to my bed and show you how hard you can come.”

He sends me off with a hard
kiss, sends me off dazed and satisfied and smiling secretively as I hurry
through the reception area, avoiding eye contact with his staff. I use his
umbrella and scurry back to my car on wobbly knees.

At my place, I realize
halfway through my steamy shower that I’m following Garret’s instructions
without even having to think about it. Has he really gotten to me that badly? I
linger under the hot stream, wondering if I should be afraid of what he’s
offering and what he’s planning on taking. Always the girl-next-door, friendly
and responsible and no-nonsense, I have never pictured myself as the kind of
woman who gets off on being dominated and tied up. Powerless and vulnerable.
Hungry to be controlled and used, subtly or not so subtly humiliated, then
caressed and comforted. What kind of woman do I
expect
to want that? Because the creamy heat between my legs says
that’s me.

For a few more seconds, I
stand with the water sliding over my body, my fingers squeezing and teasing the
lips of my pussy. Images of me tied to Garret’s bed while he drives that thick
cock into me all night have me aching for him again, but I resist the urge to
play with my clit. It feels like I shouldn’t, as though that’s for him to do.
Fuck, how long can I stand needing him this badly?

I slip out of the shower and
into my short, white robe, then dry my hair and carefully apply my makeup.
There’s no getting Garret out of my mind. As I line my eyes, wondering if he’ll
like the color. As I linger over perfumes, wondering if he’d prefer something
rosy and warm over something lighter, with citron and apple. I vaguely recall
him complementing me once on smelling of violets and vanilla and rummage
through my excessively large perfume collection for that one.

When the doorbell rings, I
curse under my breath. I haven’t been looking at the clock. Is Garret here
already?

I hurry to the door, flipping
on a light here and there as I go. The storm is lighter now, but the darkness
has moved in faster than I’d realized. I answer the door, ready with my excuses
and my promise I’ll be dressed in ten minutes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t— Blake?”

Garret’s older brother is
standing at my door, his elegant black suit and white linen shirt, sans tie,
making him look like a European GQ model. And, of course, he’s armed with that
bee-stung Sievers smile—boyish, mischievous, sensual. His golden brown eyes, a
hint lighter than Garret’s, gleam as he looks me up and down. I’m still
barefoot, in just my fluffy robe.

“If you’re expecting a male
caller—besides me—I think I’m jealous.”

I tilt my head at his usual
flirtations and step aside to invite him in, then watch as he walks past me
through the entryway. He’s every bit as handsome as his brother, but in a more deliberate
way. He is always dressed well. While other men spend their weekends in sweats,
Blake’s idea of casual is crisp, butt-hugging jeans and a silky cashmere
sweater. His shoes are always shined and his nails always buffed. While Garret
is usually a bit tanned, from being an outdoorsy kind of guy, Blake is paler,
getting his workouts on the racquetball court and the indoor pool in his
apartment building. His black hair is always perfectly trimmed, glossy and
thick. I’ve been tempted many times to run my hands through it, just like every
other woman in town.

Blake turns as I shut the
door, and only then do I notice he’s holding something at his side, against his
thigh. He raises the single, dark red rose in offering.

I reach out for it. “For me?
What did I do to deserve—”

Blake closes his smooth, firm
hand around my wrist and tugs me hard against him. My gasp of surprise opens my
mouth and, so like this afternoon with his brother, I find soft lips and a
warm, coaxing tongue sliding against mine. Blake’s kiss is hard and deep but
playful and breaks so quickly that I’m left somewhat bereft, even as my mind is
awash in panic and warnings that I can’t let him kiss me after what happened
with Garret today.

“Blake, I don’t understand,”
I insist even as he’s sliding his lips down my neck and combating my attempts
to push him gently away by holding my wrists behind my back. “Why? I mean,
what—? It’s just, you’ve never shown any interest in—”

Chuckling low, he lifts his
dark head to look into my eyes. “No interest? Faith, how many times have I
pulled you onto the dance floor at The Downtown Club? There was the hospital
benefit, the museum auction, the Chamber of Commerce dinner, and that’s in just
the last month. And the dozen roses last week?”

I stare at him, speechless
and stunned for a moment. “I thought you were just thanking me for introducing
you to George Winston and giving you a chance to promote the foundation to
him.”

Blake laughs at me. “That’s a
favor worthy of a nice weekday lunch, not roses.”

“And you dance with half the
women at every event,” I protest. “And never leave alone, I might add. You
flirt with me, but you flirt with every woman.” I’ve always known better than
to take Blake’s attentions seriously, ever since the first night I met him and
got so swept up in his charms. One of the other women at the benefit had warned
me that he was playboy, so I had assumed...

He shakes his head, smiling
coyly. “I don’t, Faith, not like I do with you.” Then his mouth melts against
mine again, while I mew and shift and try to interrupt while thinking in the
back of my mind that he tastes so good. Coppering and citrusy and warm.

Blake’s hands release my
wrists, as his body drives me back against the wall at the foot of the stairs.
I push at his shoulders even as the rest of my body is following his lead. Then
he’s got my robe untied, drawn open, and his hands close over my tits.

Panicked, confused, I yank my
mouth away from his. “Blake, I can’t,” I gasp, as he gently squeezes my tits
but pinches my nipples hard. Hard enough to make my cunt throb in excitement.

He presses me back against
the wall, one knee wedged between my thighs. “You can, Faith,” he mutters
against my jaw and my neck. Only then do I realize I’ve tilted my head in
offering. “You will,” he adds in a tone too familiar, commanding and enticing
and just like Garret’s. As I pause, conflicted, Blake shoved two fingers up my
pussy. “Christ, Faith, you’re cunt is already wet. Don’t try to tell me you
don’t want this.”

“You don’t understand,” I
begin, only to find myself squealing as his thumb goes after my clit.

“Louder, Faith,” he says, his
smiling lips skimming my flushed cheek. “Squeal for me. Show how much you like
being forced to be my slut.”

Fuck, this isn’t happening. I
can’t be getting off on Blake manhandling me and calling me his slut. Garret…

“Blake,” I cry out as he rams
a third finger into my pussy, his thumb pressed mercilessly over my sore clit.
With his other hand, he is twisting one of my nipples, increasing the pressure
and pain by slow degrees.

“That’s my good little
bitch,” he groans. His hard-on is gouging my hip. “You’re going to come for me,
Faith. You’re going to come hard and scream my name. Then I’m going to put you
on your knees and fuck your beautiful mouth until I think my cock is hard
enough to give this wet pussy the reaming it needs.”

Tears are leaking out of the
corners of my eyes, because I know this has already gone too far, because part
of me really wants Blake to use me as hard and brutally as he says he will.
I’ve undone myself. In the end, when realize they’ve both fucked me, I’ll won’t
have either of them.

“No tears, Faith,” Blake
whispers gruffly. “You know this is what you need.”

Then his fingers in my pussy
curl to stroke that certain spot, rubbing it while I writhe and buck. I’m so
drenched that his hand is making a wet slapping sound as it pistons in and out
of my cunt. I can’t resist. I’m lost.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” I choke.

“Say my name, Faith,” Blake
orders. “Come for me, and say my name. Now, slut.”

I screech his name, my
fingernails digging into his shoulders through his clothing. My body tightens
and shudders hard as my orgasm erupts, more suddenly, more violently than the
bone-melting climax Garret gave me. It drains me in an instant, and I sink to
my knees. My wet cheek resting against his thigh, his hand petting my hair, I
lean against Blake and tremble and mew through the receding waves of guilty
pleasure.

“That’s what you need, isn’t
it, little Faith?” he croons softly. “But we’re not done yet.” I look up into
his handsome face as he commands, “Undo my pants.” Flooded with terrible guilt,
anguish, need, I lift my hands. “No, Faith, with your teeth. Put your hands
behind your back.”

And this is my position, robe
hanging open, my hands clasped at the small of my back, my face pushed against
Blake’s crotch, as the doorbell rings.
Garret
.
I start to pull back, tearing up again.

“Ignore it,” Blake orders.
“You have a cock to suck, little girl.”

Truthfully, I couldn’t handle
answering the door like this, teary, still flushed from the orgasm Blake gave
me. I can’t face Garret. So I concentrate on using my tongue, my lips, my
teeth, to work the button at the top of Blake’s pants. I’ll give myself to him
tonight and take what I can get, try to use this one night of pleasure to warm
me through the years of regret ahead of me.

The doorbell rings again.
Just go, Garret
, I’m pleading in my
head.
Please just go
. Then it’s quiet
again, except for Blake’s quickening breath.

I have a fraction of a second
to panic, as I hear the click of the knob on the unlocked front door. Then the
door is opening.

“Faith, you’re going to get a
good spanking for keeping me—”

Garret’s voice drops off
abruptly. As much as I don’t want to, I turn my head to see him standing in the
open doorway. His eyes are wide, as he stares down at me, kneeling before his
brother’s bulging hard-on.