Professional Sin (3 page)

There are only four buttons. The third from the top is lit. Hawthorne swipes a card and pushes the top button.

In the closed space, I can smell his rich, complex scent. It takes me suddenly back to Sunrise Imports, to the evening he spanked me with the employee handbook.

Dampness is gathering between my legs.
 

The doors open and he motions for me to step out. When I do, I find myself in a dark hallway. There should be a window to my right, but there’s not.

I’ve never seen black walls paired with black carpet, and the hall is narrow. The effect is frightening and makes me feel trapped.

“What’s—”

“Romeo wants to speak to you somewhere more private,” Hawthorne says. “Go straight.”

My feet move without waiting for my say-so. The black carpet is surprisingly plush under the soles of my shoes.
 

I walk until I see a large closed door. Hawthorne leans around me. Having his masculine body suddenly so close throws me off guard, and I suck in a gasp that I hope sounds startled rather than desperate; he doesn’t need to know that sexual craving is practically making me vibrate.

He pushes open a door, revealing a largish room decorated in tones of black and somber red. With several groupings of sturdy sofas, it’s clearly a lounge. In many ways, the colors and decoration remind me of Hawthorne’s secret office, where the three men shared me. It’s a nice association. Contemporary art, sleek, modern furniture. It looks staged for the cover of an architectural magazine.

Romeo is in the room, as is Slade.
 

Sitting in a U-shaped sofa are three other men, a little doughy, a little fleshy, but they have that confidence of men born into wealth.
 

I get a thorough once-over as I enter, then the strangers go back to their conversation.

Businessmen. One-track minds, I think.

Romeo is sitting on an enormous chair. He could be a medieval king on a throne; all he needs is a bear pelt around his shoulders and a heavy scepter in his hand.

He indicates the floor between his feet. “Kneel,” he says.

His eyes are less like molten chocolate and more like burning coals. I glance at the three strangers. One of them is watching with keen interest, but he shows no signs of surprise.

Romeo doesn’t repeat his order.

He doesn’t need to; I’m already moving forward, my steps a little unsteady. I drop in front of him.

“I’m so sorry, Romeo—”

“Shut up with the lies,” Hawthorne snaps. “If you were sorry, you wouldn’t keep doing it.”

Romeo holds up his hand. “You don’t need to be here,” he says to Hawthorne.
 

Shrugging, Hawthorne moves away. I think he’s going to leave, but at the last minute he veers away from the door and joins the three men sitting nearby.

Romeo’s enormous hand cups my chin. “What you did today cost you my trust,” he says.

I try to nod.

“I’m going to give you one chance to redeem yourself,” he says, squeezing my chin. As he speaks, his other hand moves toward his belt.

All conversations in the room have stopped, and I can sense the three strangers, Slade, and Hawthorne all watching.

Romeo removes my hair clip, and my platinum blonde hair cascades over my breasts and past my elbows. I smell my herbal shampoo, a color-safe aromatic indulgence I buy from the salon.

He knots his fingers in my hair and pulls me up to my knees. He’s not rough, but he’s hardly gentle.
 

“Take my cock out,” he says as he moves his hand from his belt. His voice is deep and commanding. I feel a trickle of wetness seep into my panties. The soft carpet is sensuous against my knees, and I’m glad it’s so comfortable because something tells me I’m going to be down here for a while.

I reach for him, but he pushes my hands away. “Use that troublesome mouth of yours,” he says.

As I lean forward toward his belt, I can’t help but wonder if my safe word—
red
—still applies. It doesn’t really matter because unless they’re about to kill me, I’m not going to ask for relief.

Even if they kill me, I think. Better that than to be on the streets again, on my own, constantly running. I need the safety that only these men can provide.

My lips fumble with the belt’s strap. Against my neck, I feel his enormous erection through his expensive dress pants, and as my teeth catch hold of the edge of the supple belt, his cock shifts, straining against the sleek fabric.
 

But I can’t let that distract me, not even when I feel the length of him pulsing against my throat.
 

The end of the strap slides from the keeper. I catch it between my teeth and pull. I can’t tell if the metal tongue is free of the hole yet because I can’t see, so I continue pulling for longer than should be necessary.
 

The effort leaves me winded, and in the silence of the room, only the panting sounds of my humiliation are audible.

Finally I release the end of the belt, and I want to collapse onto my hands and knees, to catch my breath, but Romeo’s impatient growl puts an end to the fantasy.
 

It isn’t easy to unbutton his pants with my mouth, and getting the zipper down makes my jaw hurt. I suppose it’s a good warmup for what awaits me. Sucking Romeo’s cock was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done, and he wasn’t even angry at me that time.

Once his zipper is down, I’m faced with the daunting task of pulling his cock through his boxers and his pants.

A strategy is in order, but apparently Romeo has no time for that because he forces my head into the soft folds of expensive cloth. His hips pump lightly as he rubs my face in his lap, and suddenly I feel a bit of swollen, taut skin.

I flick out my tongue, tracing the skin, pushing away the fabric. I’m drooling everywhere, getting wetter between my legs, too.
 

Then, suddenly, gloriously, I reach the crown. Eagerly, I curl my tongue around the thick tip and try to pull him into my mouth.

But his cock is too heavy and probably would be even without the restrictive clothing. The way he smells, his masculine musk, is making me so horny that now I’m not just thinking about keeping my job. I want him to fuck me. I need to be stretched full by his girth.
 

There’s a sad little noise coming from my throat as I finally angle the fat tip of his cock between my lips. I burn with need for him, for Slade and Hawthorne, too.

Just the head of Romeo’s cock is nearly enough to fill my mouth. I’ve started to wrestle the entire shaft out when Romeo leans forward, which makes it hard to keep hold of him.

His hand plunges down the front of my blouse and into my bra.
 

I gasp as his large fingers tighten around my nipple. He tweaks me hard enough to make blood rush to my face.
 

“Watch your teeth,” he growls impatiently, and he pinches me until I whimper.

Something tells me that every woman he’s ordered to suck his dick—and I think
ordered
is right because no woman would voluntarily try to choke down something his size—has needed to be warned about scraping him with her teeth.

His swollen shaft is leaking, making him slippery and tangy and salty. I want to beg him to let me give a real blow job, one where I play with his balls and jerk the bottom two-thirds of his pole while I suck that head until he explodes.

But I can’t say anything, not with my lips stretched wide and my mouth stuffed full.

Eventually I wrangle the monster out of his pants. I try to relax my throat and get more of his length into my mouth, but he yanks on my hair.

His cock pops free of my lips. It bobs just in front of my face. Glistening. Tempting.

“What did I tell you about the teeth?” he asks.
 

“You must be used to women with removable dentures,” I say, irritated, and I hear Slade laugh behind me.

I’m startled; I’d forgotten about the other people in the room.

Then I hear a zipper sliding down. It’s just behind me, close.
Slade
.

Romeo stands, his hand still tangled in my hair. His heavy shaft bumps against the side of my face, smearing a damp trail across my cheek.

Then there’s a third zipper coming down. I tense, terrified that there will be more, that I’ll have to entertain the three strange men, but that doesn’t happen.

Instead, I feel other hands on my hair. Slade. I have barely a second to realize what’s happening because he moves fast. He positions himself between my lips and shoves deep, all the way down my throat.

Just like that, I find my lips wrapped around his sizable base.

I don’t need to think about servicing him properly because he’s in control, fucking my face. I just relax my jaw as best I can and try to hang in there.

He pushes deep, my nose smushed up against his pants. For ten, twenty, thirty seconds he holds me there, choking me with his stiff cock.

Then he pulls all the way out. I gasp for air, but he’s already thrusting forward.

The second he pulls out again, Hawthorne is there, taking his place. I’ve sucked them all before, and Hawthorne’s was the most difficult in some ways.
 

He can be brutal, and I’m seeing that our first encounter wasn’t an anomaly. He likes his blow jobs rough.

And because he’s the one pushing to get me sent away, I work hard to accept his punishment.

It’s not easy, but I’m holding up as well as can be expected. But then Slade catches my wrists.

My arms are forced behind my back.

And something’s wrapping around them. A necktie?
 

I want to stop, to look, to beg not to be tied too tightly, but first I’d need to do something about Hawthorne’s huge dick vigorously pumping into my mouth.

Then I’m restrained, and a hand touches me, turns me. Slade’s missing his tie. I can’t help but feel betrayed, but I’m also very turned on—that can’t be denied.

At least they don’t know how wet I am.

Slade takes his turn. He’s not too rough, but I still struggle against my gag reflex. When he finishes punishing my mouth, he pushes me toward Romeo. With my hands encumbered, I have a difficult time remaining upright, but Romeo catches me, and I glance up at him.

His square jaw is set in a determined grimace. Still, he’s gorgeous, even when his face is distorted by lust. I’ll give him anything he wants or needs.
 

Romeo’s not the kind of man I should have lied to.
 

I wish I could trust him with the truth.

He urges my head toward his hips, and I find myself contemplating that unwieldy erection of his.
 

“If you can get my cock all the way down your throat,” he says, “I’ll be very pleased.”

I moan softly.

“If you can’t, then you’re done at the end of the week,” Hawthorne says. “Show us how contrite you are, how much you’re willing to suffer.”

It’s the sort of thing Hawthorne would think up, but I can’t believe Romeo and Slade are going along with it. Maybe they aren’t, but I’m not going to risk pissing them off by asking questions when they want me to service them.

I lick my lips and contemplate the task before me.

When I sucked Romeo previously, I only managed three-quarters of his cock. Near as I can tell, swallowing his entire dick is physically impossible, at least for me.

Even getting him between my legs was a major feat, but it made me come so hard, I was happy to deal with the discomfort.

But
all
the way in my mouth?

“I can’t,” I admit in a miserable whisper.

Hawthorne slaps my face gently. “Speak up,” he orders.

“I can’t!”

“You aren’t even going to try?” one of the strangers asks gleefully.

I look at Romeo’s cock. It doesn’t help that the thing is inches from my face, which makes it look even more enormous.
 

Swallowing, I look up at Romeo. “I’ll try.”

But he’s already tucking himself away. “Too late.” He looks over at Slade, at Hawthorne. “I’m done. If you guys want her…” He doesn’t bother finishing the sentence.
 

Hawthorne bends over me and sticks his hands in my blouse to fondle and squeeze my breasts. When he does this, I can see his cock twitch and throb, and my pussy clenches in anticipation.

“Nah,” he says dismissively. “I don’t want her.”

I glare up at him as Slade unties my wrists.

“Go into the hall and fix your clothes,” Romeo says dismissively, without looking at me. “Wait there for someone to take you back downstairs.”

I stagger to my feet, and I’m so humiliated that I can’t make eye contact with anyone. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I was supposed to be sucking them off, making them happy, making them forgive me.

One thing is abundantly clear. I’m going to need a miracle.

~ ~ ~

At my desk, I work for about an hour, but I can’t concentrate. I want to talk with Romeo. Maybe I can’t tell him everything, but I can explain that I had some business to take care of back where I used to live.

And if he asks where that was?

I frown. I could tell him the truth, but that would just raise more questions.

Do I trust him?
 

Can I really afford not to?
 

I pick up my phone and dial his extension.
 

Tamara answers. “He left for the day. Slade and Hawthorne, too,” she says.

My fingers twirl anxiously around the rubbery phone cord. “When?”

“Forty minutes ago?” she guesses. “Something like that.”

Cursing silently, I thank her and hang up.
 

Then I take the bag from my locked drawer and shut down my space for the night. If I’m going to be fired anyway, what difference does it make if I leave early?

The receptionists are busy, and I don’t think they even see me leave.
 

It’s like I’m no longer there. Already, so much of the last three weeks feels like a dream, a moment of brightness in a life destined to be bleak.

It’s hard not to know how much of this I brought on myself, and how much is my crappy life catching up with me, ruining everything. That’s what I ponder while I visit the bank and empty my bag.