Page 64 of Hired Help

Finally, he fucks me the way I always wanted to be fucked. Like I’m some dirty slag in a pub bathroom stall rather than a princess he can only touch with kid gloves.

With each stroke, he both satisfies me and leaves me hungering for more. My hands close around the forearm slung across my chest, while my pussy stings from the pressure as he slams home again and again, forcing himself deeper and deeper.

“Come on,” Harrison says, and I squeeze my muscles hard as I can before I understand he’s not talking to me. “She wants you to, don’t you Brooke? One guy isn’t enough for her.”

He must have tucked the knife away; one arm continues to support me as his fingers work at my neckline, dragging the blouse off my shoulders while Everett stares straight into my eyes.

“No,” I say but it’s a tiny sound. Unequal to the pulse pounding in my ear. Barely audible.

Then my hands are wrenched behind my back. Harrison hooks one elbow around them while his other hand unhooks the clasp of my bra.

“Tell him, Brooke.” Harrisons cock thrusts into me with a new urgency, the drag increasing against my walls until pleasure surges inside me. His girth stretches me as I tilt my hips, timing it so with each thrust, my thighs clench, eager for my clit to enjoy any source of friction. “Tell him how much you want his hand on your tits.”

I can’t speak. My mouth doesn’t remember how.

Harrison changes his grip, flipping up the cups to my bra to expose my breasts, then twisting the shoulder straps together to form a harness across my shoulders, bending me forward, my skin burning as he adjusts his grip.

Everett steps closer, running a knuckle along the edge of my jaw, holding my gaze as he slowly licks his lips. He doesn’t even glance at my tits, just reaching for them while he continues to stare into my eyes like a psycho.

The boy fucking me might hold a knife, but the new frisson of fear comes straight from his friend.

His fingers close around my nipple, tugging, pinching. My useless, sensation-free nipple that only ever responds to temperature but pebbles under this strange boy’s touch, reacting as he twists it, drawing a loud gasp from my mouth which might sound pained but is riding high on an increasing wave of ecstasy.

“You know what’s about to happen?” Harrison asks, wrenching me closer by my makeshift harness until his lips are against my earlobe, his movements growing ever more savage. “The bell’s about to go and the junior classes are going to spill in here to see you begging us to take turns fucking you.”

Everett releases me, then flicks my nipple, the pain sharp and oh-so-sweet. Harrison gives the guttural moan that means he’s close. As Everett’s hand cups my breast again, squeezing it, moulding it in his rough hand, I open my eyes, see him staring fixedly into my face, scrutinising my reaction, analysing each change, storing it all safe from deletion in his brain.

My eyelids flutter, neck creaking farther back, exposing its long length to his fervent gaze.

Then I close my eyes, painting Daegan in his place. I picture his enormous cock, imagine him stroking it while his son pounds into me, getting ready for his turn.

And my body convulses, coming around Harrison’s cock with such force that my limbs lose control, only the harness and the hard length thrusting into me keeping me upright.

He releases my bra, hand closing around my throat instead, lips straining against my ear as he snarls, “Now you come?” in a voice wrung thin with despair.

Then his cock twitches, his fingers sink deeper into my flesh. Everett lets go, stepping away as Harrison jets inside me. Half of his cum is driven out, dripping down my thighs as he gives another, final thrust.

I think he’ll move away, leaving me sagging to the floor, but he half turns me so we’re facing away from his friend. The knife reappears, the tip of his blade dimpling my throat before he follows the curve of my collarbone, the red marks that show where my bra dug in, the recess under my ribcage.

“Guess we finally found your secret,” he breathes in his softest voice, the words meant for me and me only. “Treat you like the whore you are.”

The knife presses harder against my flesh, enough to draw a bobble of blood to the surface, beading there like a ruby expelled from my skin.

I can barely swallow past the lump in my throat, the devil on my shoulder making me whisper, “Your daddy does it better.”

For a split second, his face fills with absolute darkness, then Harrison pulls the knife away, snapping it against the wall to make it retreat into its casing, tugging his jeans into place while my blouse remains open, my bra twisted to expose my tits, pants still down at my knees while my skirt is hitched around my waist.

“Come on,” he says, clapping Everett on the shoulder while I slide to the ground, onto my hands and knees, legs barely working. “Don’t want to be late to class.”

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

HARRISON

Outside the gym,Brooke’s parting taunt rings in my ears. Everett follows close behind me, his presence causing a slew of irrational thoughts. Once we’re alongside the Science block, I can’t stand it a moment longer and slam him against the wall.

“That wasn’t a free pass to touch my girlfriend,” I warn, my throat sticking as it tries to force out the words. “You ever lay a finger on her without my permission, I’ll kill you.”

He rolls his eyes, pushing against my shoulder until I back up a step. “Don’t place that shit at my door. If I had my way, neither one of us would touch Brooke again.”

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