Professional Sin Page 5

  “He’s a lawyer?” Romeo asks.

  Humiliation washes over me as I shake my head. “He’d… He was always looking for an uneven curb to trip over, a hotel room shelf with a loose screw… a poorly constructed amusement park ride.” I swallow. “So I ran away.”

  Romeo’s large hand lifts my chin, forcing me to make eye contact with him. “Why would you run away because of that?”

  “He realized he could get much bigger settlements if a child was…” I don’t say harmed. “If a kid was involved.”

  Hawthorne is laughing quietly, and irritation surges inside me. I’m laid bare, and he’s mocking me. I begin to tremble. I want to leave, but I’m not going anywhere yet, not with Romeo hovering over me and blocking my way while he dissects me with his intense gaze.

  “Believe whatever you want, Hawthorne,” I say. “For every settlement he won, there were plenty that failed.”

  “What do you mean?” Slade asks, his expression hard.

  I shrug.

  “An example,” Slade demands.

  “Ok. Um… a month before I ran away, on my sixteenth birthday, we all went out to dinner to celebrate. Our grandfather suggested I bring my two best friends, but Layla—my sister—and I hated going anywhere as a family. We knew what would happen. So I lied, told our grandfather my friends were busy. He was furious, and he called their parents. In the end, they came along.”

  My jaw trembles slightly at the memory of walking into the restaurant and seeing Stacy and Aggie there, excited smiles on their faces and wrapped packages in their hands.

  “Go on,” Hawthorne says, his voice low.

  “Dinner was fine, but when the waiters brought out the birthday cake…” My voice trails off. I can still hear my friends’ screams as my grandfather spit out a broken tooth. “It turned into a litigious moment. I started planning my escape that night.” My jaw shuts closed firmly, and I meet Romeo’s eyes.

  Technically, I haven’t lied. That was indeed the night I started planning, but when I left, it was in a panic. I ran to save my life and didn’t stop, didn’t even consider stopping until the moment Romeo wrapped me in his arms and briefly made me feel safe.

  But Hawthorne, Slade and Romeo don’t need to hear any of that.

  Romeo lowers to a crouch in front of me, his position no longer a silent threat. “Why didn’t you tell us?” he asks gently.

  I shrug.

  “Where were your parents? Your grandmother?” Slade asks.

  “Dead,” I say flatly, and the pity in Slade’s eyes makes me jerk my gaze away.

  “What’s your name?” Hawthorne asks.

  “Lindsay,” I say. “My last name doesn’t matter.” Of course I know they can look it up with a little help from Winston, and they will, but I won’t say my family name aloud.

  “You should have told us,” Romeo insists.

  I nod, and he pulls me into an unexpected embrace. Surrounded by a man Romeo’s size, it’s impossible not to feel protected. I want to fall asleep cradled in his arms, to wake up with him wrapped around me.

  The feeling of security gives way to another emotion entirely. I’m grateful to him, to them all, and I’m relieved and a little giddy.

  The combination is fuel poured onto my simmering libido. I want them inside me, Romeo in particular, and it’s not wholly sexual. I feel fragile, and I need to be touched, to feel accepted.

  But also, I’m horny as hell.

  Sighing, I relax against him. He’s like a wall draped in expensive fabric. I look up at him, and when his gaze lands on mine, true words cross my lips.

  “I need you—”

  I don’t get a chance to tell him I need to be fucked because his mouth presses against mine. His kiss tastes faintly of scotch.

  When I kiss him back, he allows it for a moment, then pulls me away, his hand wrapped in my hair. “You want us to fuck you?”

  Even before his words fully register, heat pools low in my stomach, and a little shudder runs through me.

  Chapter 7

  They make me get onto the table. I’m not allowed to remove my clothing.

  I lie there, thinking that pillows were invented for a reason.

  The three men line up, shoulder to shoulder.

  The wild look in Slade’s eyes and his quick breathing aren’t half as revealing as the obscene erection trying to rip through his pants. I remember how he tortured me in the meeting and in the limo, and how badly I wanted him.

  Now I want him even more. I want to feel him in my mouth and pressing inside of me.

  Romeo is… Romeo. I have unfinished business with his huge cock, and I won’t let him walk away unsatisfied again. But judging from the focus in his eyes, he intends to fuck me senseless in the very near future.

  Only Hawthorne looks unhappy. He doesn’t seem as resistant as before, but I’m thinking he knows there’s more to my story. I stare at him, silently pleading for him not to ruin this.

  Shaking his head slowly, he hooks a finger behind the knot of his silk tie and saws until it loosens.

  That seems to be what the others are waiting for. Slade leans on the table. “Unbutton your blouse and take it off. Slowly.”

  I pull the creamy fabric from my waistband. The blouse practically opens of its own accord, the buttons slipping loose from their holes.

  As I wriggle it off my shoulders, Romeo makes a low, gruff noise.

  He’s looking at my bra, and I feel my face heat. He told me before that he doesn’t approve of underwire and padding.

  “It’s not the same one from the night we met,” I point out.

  “Take it off,” he says, displeasure thickening his voice.

  Might as well do it in style. I arch on the table, my knees bent, my breasts thrusting into the air and my lower back hollowing. The table is cool on my arm as I twist my wrist behind my back.

  Oh. It’s a front closure. I forgot which one I was wearing.

  Still arched, I trail my fingers over the swollen cups and unhook the fastener, but I don’t let the pieces fall. I wish Romeo would let me keep it on; it does amazing things for my chest.

  Irritation in his eyes, he leans over and yanks the cups open. My breasts, no longer supported, abandon their perky positions.

  “Look at yourself,” Romeo says. His attention is focused on my nipples, and lust colors his eyes.

  I glance down.

  My breasts are mediocre, though the stiffness of my nipples makes them more enticing, I think. My stomach is flat, all the way down to where it disappears under the waistband of my skirt.

  “Sit up,” Hawthorne orders.

  I push against the table, my knees bent, the soles of my high heels flat on the table and the backs of the shoes pressing against my ass.

  “Perhaps I was unclear before,” Romeo says. “If I see you wearing another fake bra in my office, I’m going to make you take it off.”

  He holds out his hand and I slide the bra the rest of the way off and give it to him. He tosses it across the table.

  “Now put your shirt back on,” he says.

  My eyes widen. Is the punishment for my vanity being sent home without sex?

  “Now,” Romeo growls.

  My hands jerk for the blouse. It’s still warm from my body heat.

  After I fasten the buttons, I look to the men.

  “Come here,” Hawthorne says.

  I scoot toward him. With every movement, my breasts jiggle under the silken fabric. The delicate friction makes my nipples even harder, and as a quick glance down confirms, more prominent.

  Hawthorne catches the back of my head in his hand, and he kisses me. It’s a Hawthorne kiss, through and through. Dominating. A bit rude, his tongue ignoring the give-and-take that a kiss is supposed to be. Yet it’s sexy as sin.

  He lowers me as he kisses, and then I find myself on my back again, Hawthorne leaning over me. Against my thigh, I feel his rigid erection through all the layers of fabric between us.

  “Turn her,” Romeo s
ays, and Hawthorne spins me. Thanks to the polished surface of the table and my slippery clothing, I glide easily until my head hangs over the edge, giving me an excellent upside-down view of my bosses.

  Romeo palms my breasts in his huge hands. “Mm,” he groans. “This is so much better.” As he speaks, his fingers tighten until my nipples are trapped, squeezed.

  “Open your mouth,” Hawthorne says.

  Romeo pulls me toward the edge of the table, his hands wrapped around my ass. When he has me in place, he unzips his pants and takes out his enormous cock.

  My tongue flickers over my lips in anticipation. The idea of sucking him again is terrifying, but I’m so eager to redeem myself that I’ll do anything these men want.

  He fists the thick shaft and directs the swollen head toward my waiting mouth. I can feel the heat of his body radiating out.

  As the taut head slicks over my lips, I moan. Romeo’s cock throbs in response.

  The other two men are crowding in close, their erections jutting hungrily from the flies of their pants, their balls hanging heavily. Looking at them upside down is surreal, like I’ve been plunged into an X-rated dreamscape.

  Romeo traps my head so that I can’t look around. Now all I see are his massive thighs moving closer, his heavy sack.

  Then he presses in, and I don’t even see that.

  What percentage of him is in my mouth, I don’t know. Several inches, but not the majority of his shaft. His girth is too thick, and trying to accommodate him makes my jaw ache.

  Lucky me, he’s in the mood to be gentle. He lets me suck hard on the tip, and he doesn’t try to feed me too much.

  Then I feel another cock pressing into the side of my cheek, which is plumped full with Romeo’s gently thrusting tool.

  Romeo slowly pulls back, like he’s planning to let another man take a turn, but when just the tip is tugging on my lips, he presses forward again with a guttural groan.

  For all his masterful control in business and in daily life, he can’t tear himself away from my sucking lips. It makes me almost woozy.

  I might be submissive to these men in every way: money, looks, influence, education, breeding… But their desire for me is power.

  (I try not to think about how easily they stayed away for three weeks.)

  Finally, Romeo yields to Hawthorne, who turns my head his direction and rams in deep, like there’s a bullseye at the bottom of my esophagus and he’ll win a prize for hitting it.

  His cock is thick and veiny, and he punishes my mouth enthusiastically. He’s large—all three men are well above average—but he isn’t limited by having a monstrously oversized dick like Romeo’s. He almost seems to be making up for Romeo’s relative gentleness by trying to break me.

  My moans are staccato, and as he thrusts, the wood of the table underneath my back squeaks ever so slightly.

  He slams his cock in deep and holds me on his base, my mouth pressed against his body, my nose smushed between his upper leg and the cool skin of his balls.

  “Such a good little cocksucker,” he says. He pinches my nipples freely, the fabric of my shirt caressing my skin as his jerking makes my breasts wobble. “Such an obliging little whore.”

  I’m not a whore, I try to say, but it’s impossible because my mouth is stuffed full of angry Hawthorne cock. The irony isn’t lost on me.

  “Were you trying to say something, my little slut?” His voice is almost tender, and it’s clear that talking dirty like this turns him on.

  Too bad. I don’t like being called a whore. Well, not by him. Romeo and Slade can call me anything they want—the more degrading, the hotter.

  But this is Hawthorne, and I hate him, and I resent how helplessly turned on I am when he smiles that arrogant smile and orders me around.

  I consider biting his cock.

  As my jaws begin to tighten on his shaft, he twists my nipple hard. “Someone fill her pussy,” he says. “The little slut needs more dick in her.”

  What he said is true, but he’s a jerk.

  No more playing. I bite him.

  Chapter 8

  Hawthorne pulls away, his expression shocked and his eyes flashing; I definitely have his attention now.

  I swipe the back of my hand across my mouth and glower at him. “I’m not a whore.”

  “You are if I say you are,” he says, but he’s so busy inspecting his dick for damage that it seriously undermines his point.

  That’s all I get to see before Slade is sliding his fingers into my mouth. “No biting,” he says lightly as he pushes inside of me.

  He holds my mouth open as he rocks in and out. This is new to me. It’s hot. I trust Slade. He might not go the extra mile for me like Romeo does, but I always know where I stand with him.

  So I don’t mind that he’s got my jaw forced open.

  The downside is that I’m drooling… It’s embarrassing. But I’m too turned on to do anything about it.

  “Oh yeah,” he murmurs. He gathers up a handful of my hair and uses it to pull my head farther back. “Such a beauty, Lindsay. You have no idea how the three of us have talked about the night we shared you.”

  “Slade.” Hawthorne says just the one word, delivered in a tone of warning.

  Slade’s reaction is a deep, satisfied laugh that turns into a groan as his hips swing faster.

  He stops, starts, then pulls out. His fingers remain in my mouth.

  His cock glistens, and he’s nice and red; I can see exactly how far I was able to take him.

  Only three-quarters of the way. But he was in control, and that’s what he chose.

  He crouches to press his mouth over mine, his fingers thrusting while he kisses me. It’s completely unexpected, a strange but heady mix of sensations: his soft tongue, his thick fingers, his lips plucking mine.

  Too soon, he pulls away and straightens.

  His fingers are still in my mouth as he leans forward.

  My skirt is jerked up unceremoniously, and my legs are roughly spread.

  A moment later I feel the heat of his mouth between my legs. His breath is humid as he teasingly mouths my panty-covered sex. He grunts as he thrusts his cock partially into my mouth again.

  I do my best to satisfy him, but the game he’s playing with my pussy is a cruel one, and the muscles of my stomach and legs clench in shameless desperation.

  He pulls away. “I have to stop,” he says. “I can barely control myself around you.”

  But now Hawthorne is back. He pulls me off the table and pushes me to the carpeted floor.

  He sits in the big black chair and pats his thigh. When I start to stand, Romeo forces me back to my hands and knees.

  The skirt, hiked up over my hips, slides to the middle of my back as I crawl forward. I might not have a great ass, but this angle does pretty good things for it.

  Especially with my thong flashing maximum skin.

  I wonder if they can see how wet I am.

  Slowly, I crawl over to Hawthorne. From this angle, he looks like Zeus, glowering down from Mount Olympus. I raise my eyes to his, and even though it’s not possible, I feel like I can see the golden flecks sprinkled throughout the deep blue of his irises.

  “Get up here and suck my cock,” he says, his tone even. “Whore.” The expression in his eyes says I’d better not even think of challenging him.

  I sit back on my heels and push my hair out of my eyes. “I just figured out why you keep saying that. You’re used to having to pay for female attention. Completely understandable.”

  Something like amusement flashes briefly in his eyes, then the deathly look is back as he pulls his belt free from his pants.

  Slowly, painstakingly, he folds the supple belt in half.

  He contemplates the length of the strap, and I swallow.

  “If your mouth isn’t on my dick in the next ten seconds, I’m going to bend you over the table and whip that rebellious streak out of you.” He leans forward. “And then you will suck my cock. Except it will be more dif
ficult because you’ll be crying, tears running down your face. I know how particular you are about your makeup…”

  I was on board with this until he got personal and mentioned my makeup. He’s always got a snide remark about my appearance.

  I stand. “You know what? I’m done with you.” I point at him. “You aren’t allowed to fuck me anymore. I rescind my permission.”

  Storm clouds seem to gather in the room as Hawthorne stands to his full height, which is somewhere between towering over me and able to see into the next state.

  He scowls at me. “You want to be very careful with that, little girl. I think you forgot that we’re a package deal. You fuck us all or you fuck none of us.”

  “I…” Oh, I want to tell him to go to hell. But then I think of Slade and how much I enjoyed his arms around me while he was buried in my ass and Romeo fucked my pussy.

  “Yes?” Hawthorne asks.

  I hear fingers drumming on the table. I look over and Slade is leaned up against the edge, his fingers dancing impatiently. He raises an eyebrow. “Lindsay, I’m horny. I want to fuck you. But despite my joke about fucking you in the limo, he’s right. It’s all of us or none of us. So make nice, accept your punishment, and let’s get on with it.”

  Romeo clears his throat. “Too much talk.” He covers the distance between us and pulls me up onto my toes. His eyes drill into mine for a brief second, then his soft lips claim me.

  His kiss… Oh, the man knows how to do it just right, forceful and determined but never too much.

  He releases me as abruptly as he grabbed me.

  “Go suck the man’s dick,” he says, and he turns my shoulders and gives me a little push, his large palm slapping against my ass.

  I jump with a little squeal at the touch, but it reminds me that far worse is about to come. If Hawthorne’s spanking is anything like the one he gave me before, I’ll be wincing my way through the next several days.

  He’s waiting, his tie loose, the top of his shirt unbuttoned, and his large cock, hard enough to cut steel, arching out of his pants.

  “Come to me,” he commands, and my body moves forward obediently.