Page 98 of Hired Help

“Good girl,” he murmurs with appreciation, hauling my head off him, letting me heave in a breath, mouth sagging open, taking in as much air as I can. His voice turns mocking. “Do you want my daddy to take a turn? Do you want to kneel for us while the machine fucks your cunt, and we take turns fucking your face?”

I think he’s joking. It’s a tease. Then the bed shifts and seconds later a new cock is surging over my lips, thrusting into my mouth, into my throat while Harrison crows in delight and Daegan moans with satisfaction.

“That’s my girl,” Harrison says, his lips pressed against my ear, breath rasping and setting my aural canals on fire. “Take him as deep as you took me. Give the old man a nice treat.”

His hands reach for my tits, squeezing and pinching. His weight on the bed tugs me his way, the machine steadfast as my body shifts, hitting at a new angle inside me, a tangled mix of pleasure and a stretch so intense it borders on pain.

He mashes my tits together as Daegan moves to the side, taking my head with him as he fucks me, fucks my mouth, fucks my throat, withdrawing only long enough to rub his sensitive tip over my lips and my cheeks, the passage fluid with my saliva, then back into my mouth, the chance to suck in a stray breath a privilege.

Then Harrison’s cock fights for entrance, the men pushing and shoving for the honour of choking me, my blindness meaning I never know where the next cock is coming from. There are more hands, more cocks, more intensity and desire and raw lust than I know what to do with.

I bear down, clenching my cunt muscles around the machine as it fires yet again into a higher gear.

Then Harrison grunts, shoving himself deep inside and holding there, holding, then one last thrust as his cum spills into my throat. As he withdraws, I suck at him, wanting to memorise the feel, the taste, chart the differences between him and his father.

“One down, one to go,” Daegan whispers, pushing his son out of the way to take possession of my mouth.

Harrison’s weight leaves the bed, then he strokes my back, following the curve of my arse, thumbs spreading my pussy wide as he watches the machine shove deep into me.

“Damn but you look good. I’m going to memorise every second, so I always have access to some top-shelf memory porn.”

His thumbs move higher, their rhythmic stroke adding to my existing stimulation in all the right ways.

“Your pretty pussy is just begging for more attention.” Harrison kisses my cheek right where his father gave me the one slap. His tongue moves over his healing initials, then circles the reddened imprint, sucking in a mouthful and gently biting, while his fingers continue to explore.

“Your poor swollen clit,” he says as his fingers dance near. “Trying hard to get attention. It reminds me of someone I know.”

Daegan chuckles, the sound vibrating along his cock, echoing into my soft palette. “You want to come on Harrison’s fingers while I come jammed halfway down your throat?”

He pulls back just long enough for me to moan, his length resting too heavy on my tongue to form a word, then he’s back inside, thrusting with more and more force while Harrison cranks the machine to a higher setting, the friction enough to build heat while he moves under me, blowing a soft breath across my aching clit, making me groan around his father’s cock.

Then his tongue caresses me and I nearly explode. Tears stream down my face, not my eyes watering but genuine tears of joy, full of anticipation, straining towards another shelf of pleasure that till now has been too high to reach.

The urgency of Daegan’s thrusts increases, the steady thump of the machine is relentless. Harrison tongues my clit, caressing it, lapping at it like a kitten licking milk, his tongue alternating between rough and smooth, aggressive and gentle, then he turns greedy, fingers slipping and sliding just past the point where the machine takes over, moving through my folds, igniting new stretches of arousal, his tongue pressing, pressing, then licking and swirling, the brush of his teeth a spark of fear that ignites a jolt to my core, tugging me the last way up the precipice before it boots me over, plunging at neck-breaking speed down the other side.

My mouth slackens as the orgasm shudders through me. The machine slows, slows, slows to a halt.

Daegan gathers the back of my head in both hands, pulling me where he needs me and holding me there, breath a forgotten treat, his roar of completion as he convulses inside me enough to bring me a second, fluttering rush.

The machine is kicked away, Harrison getting one last long lick across my pussy before he rolls into place beside me, hauling me back against him while Daegan sandwiches against my front, resting one hand around my neck as a support, the other resting on my hip.

Exhaustion claims me, swooping down and stealing me away before I can open my mouth to protest. With my aching jaw and aching pussy satisfied, I give in to the dominant claim of sleep.

CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX

HARRISON

When I wake on Sunday,I slip out of the house in the early morning, hating to leave the comfort of Brooke’s arms but needing to get my head clear. Everything went from a perfectly compact arrangement into a sprawling mess, and I need space to relax and untangle the rope of emotions tugging me apart.

This late in August, there’s still a crispness to the morning air, but the sun’s rising earlier. Soon we’ll be careening into summer, a thought that brings a heavy dose of stress for the first time.

Every other year, it’s been a time for celebration. Six weeks or longer to enjoy myself free of the tight confines of the school yard. This time around, there won’t be a new school year come February. The future is closing in on me and I’m not anywhere near prepared.

Dad’s car is parked in the lean-to on the side of the house, but I’m happy to walk. After fifteen minutes, with my thoughts lining up in more familiar patterns, I jump on an early morning bus that takes me the rest of the way to Kingswood.

The school looks the same. I could go inside and enter my room, try to get myself geared for the week ahead.

Instead, I skirt the buildings, heading for the back lane, for the cycle track.

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