Page 110 of Hired Help

There’s a small heartbeat line over the top, added a year later.

“I got this one after you came through your last surgery with flying colours. It’s on my shoulder because when I was at work, I liked to look at it, to remember why I was doing everything I did. They took the EKG at your last surgeon’s appointment.”

Harrison touches a finger to the image, tracing the shape of the heart. His cheeks grow blotchy, and he snatches his hand away, digging his thumb into his palm like it’s cramping.

“Guess I should think about something.”

I nudge him with my elbow. “I don’t think it’s a prerequisite.”

“Yeah.” He pats his torso, rubbing his hands up and down like he’s warming himself. “My body is a temple and all that. I might just find some nice jewellery.”

“Sounds good.”

Brooke finishes up with a small portfolio of designs to consider and a vague invitation to come along whenever she wants. Harrison immediately springs back to her side, leaving the artist in no doubt that the appointment won’t be a solo one, even if she’s the only one getting marked.

I stay seated for the moment. Just watching.

It’s hard to look at them without emotion pulling my throat tight, making my chest ache. They’re my second chances. The beautiful girl who makes me feel eighteen again with the world at my feet, all my mistakes in front of me, and my son. The boy I let slip away once but will never release long enough to drift away again.

Brooke turns, gesturing for me to join them. Never one to need a second invitation, I cross to her side, resting a hand on the curve of her shoulder while Harrison keeps one arm slung around her waist.

I know it’ll raise eyebrows, it almost always does, but it’s been a long time since I gave a fuck what anyone else thought—a trait that Brooke and Harrison have been quick to adopt.

The tattoo artist’s eyes widen, then he disengages from the conversation, feigning interest in the back room where another customer is swapping jokes with their artist.

“You’ll have to help me choose,” she tells me as we head out of the store. “Otherwise, I’ll end up with all of them.”

From where I’m standing, that doesn’t sound like a bad decision at all.

* * *

BROOKE

A face peers through the window, eyes sharp, alert for any details. The breath of the man outside fogs the glass, adding a shield of blurriness that softens his harsh features, like Vaseline over an old film camera, smudging the leading lady into greater beauty.

The rough sound of Daegan’s breathing fills my ear a second before he snatches my earlobe between his teeth, the wet suctioning enough to make my insides curl into a panting ball of need.

I can’t believe that I used to find the fluids, sights, smells, sounds of sex repugnant. Each one of those details now means only one thing, pleasure. Each dribble or lick or pinch or groan or wet slap just another step on the path to ecstasy.

He slides the head of his cock into me, the expansive back seat of my sedan grows smaller by the second as Daegan’s muscled, tattooed glory of a torso uses up the wide stretch of leather, leaving me balanced on the very edge, each thrust threatening to spill me into the footwell.

Not that there’s any space there. Not with Harrison crouching, his mouth-watering, eye-watering cock at the perfect level to plunge into my gasping throat.

A palm slaps against the window, lines visible in the small glow of the interior car light. The front windows are each rolled down a centimetre, giving us an aural entryway into the world outside the car.

Another man stares through the back window and I make accidental eye contact as I peer behind me, checking on Daegan as an exquisite groan of pleasure escapes his lips. Delightful, but far too early.

The girl beside him has her chest against the cool glass, her erect nipple squeezing against the window on the side where her boyfriend’s fumbling fingers aren’t pinched tight, drawing a small cry from her throat.

The sound shoves me forward, escalating the speed of my journey. When Harrison teases me with the head of his cock, dotted with a tantalising drop of pre-cum, Daegan bears down on my shoulders while thrusting inside me, the throbbing length of his erection a constant taunt, a constant game of dare to sees how much I can take.

Sometimes I’m a loser. Sometimes my hand taps out such an insistent rhythm that even the clock stops. Most times, my pair of duelling suitors keep me at the perfect distance from that line, hauling me along the exquisitely sharp edge without ever letting me drop into the decline.

A hand slaps against the bonnet and Daegan pulls the buttons of my blouse apart, flipping down the cups of my bra to release my tits much to the excitement of the growing cluster of voyeurs outside the car.

Harrison presses his thumb against my chin, opening my mouth like it’s an automatic button release, growing tired of the tease and easing into me, not enough to gag, encouraging me to flex my tongue and work at his pleasure. The groan as Daegan increases the speed of his thrust acts like a vibrator before I can resume the teasing flicks and curls of my tongue, the suction gently increasing as he allows me to find a rhythm, displaying my prowess to the growing crowd.

“On your knees,” Daegan commands, withdrawing to give a slap on my rump, then clamping his large hands over my hips and moving me to a new position, flashing my glistening pussy at the windows, steaming enough now that I can barely see the faces, the hands.

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