Sin and Desire (51 page)

I have two options here. To either respond to the question as I would have initially by giggling and shaking my head only to return to the oak desk to rot or I can answer how any normal girl in need of some satisfaction would.

“Probably because no one wants to admit they look at porn,” I reply with a cheeky smile on my face.

“Good answer,” Yuppie responds while chuckling. “My name is James. And you are?”

“Emma.” I look over to Boho chic.

“That’s Ethan. So, Emma, do you look at porn?” James looks devilish, his interest piqued.

“I’m not sure that’s an appropriate subject for a billionaire to be asking about.” My face begins to flush as I wonder if that was boring or enticing.

“So, you do know who we are.” James’ eyes become slits on his long, slender face.  His cheekbones are the most prominent I’ve seen on a man and his eyebrows, while perfectly sculpted, seem sinister. “You’re cute. I like you.”

“Thanks,” I say, haphazardly. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Come on, James, let’s go,” Ethan’s mouth opens for the first time in my presence.  His voice is caramel.

“What? Things are just getting good!” James laughs and leans against the magazine rack, but it teeters on its IKEA legs and tumbles over, magazines splaying themselves across the worn carpet. Without thinking, I let out a low groan. “Whoops! Sorry. You’ll clean that up, right?” James pops a piece of gum into his mouth and chuckles.  Ethan slaps him in the arm and bends down to help collect the magazines.

“Sorry, Emma,” he almost whispers, and it hits every nerve in my body. I shake, visibly, and clear my throat.

“That’s alright.  I knock this thing over all the time.”

“See? She knocks it over all the time.” James reaches down and wraps his spindly fingers around my arm. “Don’t bother with that, hon. We can hire someone to do that.”

“Knock it off, alright?” Ethan keeps busying himself with the magazines as I stand up.  James pulls me closer to him, our chests almost touching.

“So, Emma”—his voice isn’t as pleasing, but his lips are plump and soft—“what is a girl as hot as you doing in a library at this time of night?”

“Working, thank you very much.” I smirk.

“Oh, oh, I see. You don’t think I know what it’s like to work?” He’s being very playful, though I can’t be sure if it’s a ploy for something deeper. “I know how to work.  I’m working right now.”

“What are you working for?”

“I’m working on finding a girl for a little get-together we’re having this weekend. A small affair. You wouldn’t be interested, would you?”

I look at Ethan, who is staring up at me, almost hopeful. “What kind of affair?”

“Business.” James releases his fingers from my arm, but lets his fingertips trace a line from my elbow to my wrist. They linger, and I feel tingles all over my body. “We need a girl to serve drinks to clients. Topless.” My nipples get hard at the thought. This could be a great gig. Hell, they could be paying. I mean, I’ve already posed nude. What’s wrong with walking around topless?

“You can think about it,” Ethan sheepishly contributes as he stands. “I think you’d be perfect for it.”

“And what makes you think that?” I ask, smiling at him, begging him to keep talking.

“Well, you seem playful, which is a plus. And strong. Independent, even.” Ethan inches closer with every word and suddenly, I feel like I’m drowning in a pool of sex and mystery. I feel as though I’m a character in one of the romance novels I pour myself over every night.

“And you’re hot. Let’s not forget that.” James pipes in.

“Does it pay?”

“Oh, very well,” James soothes. “It pays very, very well.”

“Do you two do this often?” I ask, trying to diffuse the obvious tension.

“First time,” Ethan admits. “Emma, you smell delicious.”

“Oh?” I lift my wrist to my nose and take a deep breath. “It’s French Lilac. I buy it from the farmer’s market that comes in every weekend.”

“I don’t know about farmer’s markets,” Ethan begins.

“But I don’t think it’s lilacs we smell,” James finishes, the yellowish lights overhead glinting off of his perfect, white teeth. I imagine what my panties might look like torn off between them. I can feel myself gushing at the thought. James’ fingers are dancing wildly across my wrist and down into my palms, as Ethan delicately brushes my long, brunette locks behind my ear. I’m hit with an urge to rip my clothes off and show them what I’ve got to offer, but my body is trembling to the point where moving at all isn’t an option.

“Don’t be nervous.” Ethan takes one step closer. I can feel his breath on my neck. James pops his gum and watches on in amusement. I can feel pressure on my right breast and warmth washes over it. Ethan’s lips hit my neck and they’re soft, nipping at the skin below my earlobe. My eyes lock with James’ and it’s sexy as hell. I’ve never been into voyeurism, but this is something I could get very used to.

“Let’s see what we’re working with, Ethan,” James instructs and winks at me. Ethan, on cue, unbuttons the top button of my blouse. James exhales sharply, almost as if he wasn’t expecting my breasts to be as big as they are. I fancy myself to be average, but I’ve been told by multiple men that I have the perkiest and fullest Cs they’ve ever seen. “One more.” Ethan unbuttons the next button and I feel my breathing begin to shallow. My shelf tank-clad breasts pop out from behind the button down. James seems delighted.

“Nice.” Ethan smiles at me, rubbing my breasts with his hand as if inspecting melons at a supermarket. He lifts my right and drops it, allowing it to ripple and roll around with gravity. My nipples are definitely hard and can be seen through the thin fabric of the tank top, but I don’t care. I’m not embarrassed.

“Well…” James motions for Ethan to join him by his side and the two stare at me for a moment. “Show them to us.”

“Excuse me?” I ask breathless, wanting for Ethan to continue touching me as James watches on.

“Show us your breasts, Emma.” James is now chewing his gum ferociously, his jaws working harder than an engine.

I take a deep breath and look towards the windows next to us. The streets are empty and the three of us are alone. My shaking fingers unbutton the last three buttons on my blouse and grab for the bottom of the bright magenta tank. I look into James’ eyes, then to Ethan’s.  Both are smirking, both are staring intently at me. I’m not sure why the two billionaires stumbled into the library or why they were particularly interested in me, but I feel overwhelmingly turned on.

I lift my tank from the bottom up, revealing my hip bones first, then my belly button, and lastly, my breasts. The cool air from the a/c unit over us and the shock of showing them to two extremely gorgeous men makes my breasts tighten and contract. They are at their perkiest now, and I feel free. Ethan smiles and moves closer to me. He touches my skin tenderly, cupping my breasts from underneath.

“These are magnificent,” he says, rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. I moan lightly and exhale, biting my bottom lip to keep from making noise. I stare into James’ eyes again and see a fire dancing within them. I don’t know if he’s satisfied because he didn’t think I would or if he actually likes what he sees, but I don’t care. I like the feeling of his eyes on my body while Ethan begins kissing my breasts.

“That’s good,” James interferes, shaking Ethan out of his sex haze. He reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a stark white business card. “You can put your shirt down now.” I do as I’m told, which is sexy all on its own.  Ethan stands up straight, adjusts his erection, I assume, and smiles at me. I smile back as James hands me the card.

“We’ll be in touch,” he says stiffly. I smile and wave as the two turn to leave.  I watch the doors shut behind them and flip the card over.  It’s a phone number with a Manhattan area code.

Manhattan.

Now things are getting interesting.

The town car the two men send for me looks as if no one has ever used it before. The leather seats squeak as they ebb to support my weight. The chauffeur, an older man with a forgettable face, closes the door behind me after I get my platform stiletto-clad feet into the back seat with me. I feel like a celebrity, but not one that is up for an award. Maybe one on her way to a meeting with her agent or an audition at Paramount. I’m anxious, but not genuinely nervous.

The ride is smooth and without stops. It’s almost as if they’ve reserved the entirety of Route 3 to ensure my arrival is prompt. I can see the toll bridge for the tunnel up ahead and my heart starts to race. Manhattan is just on the other side. The lights, the people, the buildings, the atmosphere. It’s all almost too much to take in. My cell phone rings, signifying a text message.

“See you in twenty. E.”

I smile, but also wonder if maybe Ethan or James equipped the car with GPS before sending it out. The lights in the tunnel are disorienting, filling the cab with light and whisking it away in a matter of seconds. I always find it cleansing. I’ve already begun to shed my uptight skin and am slipping into something a little more risqué. I’ve even worn my shortest, tightest black skirt in hopes it will open me up to new experiences.

When we come out of the tunnel, my body lights up. My eyes are glued open, capturing everything they can. The streets aren’t as busy as I was expecting them to be, but on a Sunday night, I guess not even New York City is very crowded. Unless the duo arranged that, too. Impossible. Right? I roll the window down enough for the warm, thick air to hit me in the face. It smells like sweet cigar smoke and truck exhaust. There is that lingering sourness of garbage and general food vendor refuse, but that comes with the package.

We make a few turns as my eyes gently close, listening to the cars honking and the street performers, seeing the neon lights through my lids. Before I know it, the car stops at the back of a building. It looks like any other building in Manhattan from the back. The car door flies open and the chauffeur offers me his hand. I take it and get out of the car. The night is still and my heart pounds with anticipation. I haven’t seen or heard from the men, save for a text message they sent me the night after we met in the library.

“What’s your address?”

“Who is this?”

“Ethan. We’re sending a car.”

I gave him my address and now here I am, standing outside a faceless building with an equally faceless man, not quite sure what’s waiting for me.

The chauffeur goes to a panel of buttons at the backdoor and types in a code. A loud, mechanical thump and the heavy fire door opens to a dark, short hallway. I walk inside and the chauffeur remains at the door. He motions to the elevator button on the wall.

“Aren’t you coming?” I ask. He smiles and shakes his head. My heart sinks to my stomach. I hate showing up alone, whether it’s to a movie, party, or a topless dinner meeting. The elevator door screeches open, revealing a tiny closet of a car. I step inside, feeling the eyes of the smiling chauffeur on me. There are only four buttons inside. Ground floor, the door open, the door close, and a button that reads “AP”. I wonder what that could mean.  Apartment platform? No, that’s not right. Something penthouse. As the elevator doors close, I look above the buttons and see another faint “P” engraved into the steel. It’s very faded.  Now what could that stand for?

Before I have a chance to play the guessing game, the elevator doors spring open. It’s a shock, to say the least. The entire ride was so quiet; there was no music, no rattling of the chains. I step out onto the parquet flooring, older than I am. The elevator doors close behind me with a cheerful “ding”. As rude as it is, I take a few steps into the penthouse and look around, gawking really. What is on display before me is almost more than I can take.

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the great Central Park. I almost run to them, my breath light and spastic. I’ve never seen this side of Manhattan—the side reserved for billionaires. I instantly know where I am. The Plaza Hotel. I always knew that they had closed down a majority of the hotel for private apartments when people stopped really staying at the hotel, but I had never imagined I would ever get a chance to see it for myself.

“Welcome to the Plaza,” James’ voice is soothing as his hand, with a glass of champagne, comes into view.

“I’m so rude, but I just had to see it.” I turn to him.  He’s gorgeous and wears his pride well.

“This is the Attic Penthouse. We just bought it last week.”

“I see. AP. Makes sense now.” I take the glass of champagne and swig it down.  “Where’s Ethan?”

“He’s in his bedroom, making sure your payment is in order. Why don’t you head into the kitchen and get ready? Our guests will be arriving soon.” He takes the glass from my hand and points me to the kitchen, where I meet the cook. She’s an older woman who barely speaks English, but her kitchen smells magnificent.

“You undress here.” She points to the pantry and goes back to chopping. I want to ask if she’s been working for Ethan and James long, but then that would be pointless if she already knew why I was here and what I was supposed to be wearing … or not wearing. I march towards the pantry and think to close the folding door behind me before I laugh to myself. Might as well forget about modesty now. I slide my mustard-yellow cardigan off of my shoulders and fold it haphazardly. I narrow my eyes and look towards the cook, who is now busy over a pot of stew. My tank top is next, letting my breasts hang freely against my chest.

It feels quite liberating, actually. When I was in college, and even sometimes now a days, I would let myself air dry after a shower; just walk around with my hair up in my towel and my breasts and ass flying free. It was always nice and empowering. I turn around in the pantry and look at the cook. She glances over to me and smirks, holding back a giggle, I think. She picks up her cutting board and heads back to the pot simmering on the stove top.

“You look good,” she says and points to the door back out to the living room. “Don’t forget your tray.”

I walk over to the door where a sterling silver tray is laid out. I’ve seen silver plenty of times in my life, but none as perfect as this simple, yet elegant tray. No scuff marks, not one fingerprint. It’s almost too perfect to touch. I hold it in my hands, which are now shaking, and look down onto it. My makeup is spot on, there are no lipstick marks on my teeth, and my breasts are at their all-time perkiest.

The door swings open. It’s Ethan. A smile stretches across his face when he sees me.  He’s wearing a tweed sports coat and fitted slacks. A vast difference from his laid-back attire back at the library. I choke out the word “hi”, but he doesn’t say anything back. Instead, he reaches underneath my skirt, his hand sliding up my inner thighs, and strokes my pussy with his finger.

“No panties?  I like your style.” He walks past me and smacks my ass towards the door. I can only giggle while I try to catch my breath.

What I walk into is unlike anything I could have ever expected. There are four old men—like, old. I would say the youngest is in their early seventies. Absolutely none of them look at me. They take drinks off of my tray without even a glance. I look over at James, sitting comfortably in a 17
th
-century armchair, to make sure I’m doing everything correctly.  He nods to me, as if to say, “This is perfectly normal.” The rest of the evening goes off without a hitch. In fact, it’s almost as if I’ve been wearing a shirt this entire time.

I sit in the kitchen with the cook, who I now know to be Olga, as she talks to me about life in Russia. We’ve become quite friendly, what with her seeing my breasts and all.  The clock reads 9:00pm on the dot. Usually, on a Sunday, I’d be in bed with a romance novel by now. Not tonight. James walks through the swinging door.

“Fantastic job tonight, ladies.” He reaches into his suit pocket and hands a fat envelope over to Olga. She takes it and stuffs it into her bra. She says goodnight, hangs up her apron, and disappears down the hallway. I imagine she has a family waiting for her. Lord only knows how much is in that envelope. Perhaps enough for a semester at NYU. Well, maybe, enough for text books, anyway. “And as for your payment”—James steps towards me and softly touches my bare shoulder; the hair on my arms stand up on end—“follow me.”

He spins around on his heels and marches out of the kitchen. We slither our way through the gorgeous penthouse apartment, past the gold encrusted vases, Victorian end tables, Oriental rugs, and Tiffany chandeliers. The walls are solid oak and smell like they were only made yesterday—fresh and new. Just like I am tonight. I’ve been walking around topless for hours now and have yet to feel bashful. I am enjoying this new confidence.

We arrive at the farthest room from the elevator. James turns to me and smiles, but his eyes are trying to read me. I’m curious now. Things have been leading up to this moment all night. Hell, all week. He knocks twice and opens the door.

It’s a bedroom. With one bed.

“A bedroom? I can’t exactly take this home with me.” I scoff to cover how aroused I am.

“Clever.” James’ voice is lower than usual and dances on my ear lobe. I watch as Ethan comes out of the suite bathroom, his sports coat over his bare chest and his slacks open, revealing a pair of black Calvin Klein boxers. I hear the door gently close behind me.  James’ hands wrap around my waist, his stubbly chin scratching my neck as his lips race to my ear. “So, what do you think?”

I have one second to make a decision. I can easily be offended and leave the room, never to see either of the billionaires again, you know, to keep hold of my morals. Or I can jump on the bed and fuck them both hard and dirty. How many opportunities like this will come along? What were the odds that these two would walk in on my day at the library? If only for the sake of coincidences alone, it would be sinful not to see where this leads.

I take a step towards the bed and it feels like I’m ice skating. My pussy is soaked, just from imagining what the next few minutes, few seconds, hold for me. I kneel myself onto the mattress and begin to crawl towards the center of the bed, towards Ethan, who has now lost his coat and is pulling his slacks to the ground.  His eyes are eager, excited. His body is firm and sculpted, as is James’, who has started to follow me onto the mattress, leaving his own suit jacket and shirt on the ground behind us.

James wastes no time in lifting my skirt over my thighs and around my waist. I can feel how swollen my clit is and I wonder if it’s poking out from between my lips. I can feel his tongue slide between my legs, tracing around in circles. A fire erupts within my stomach and I reach out blindly for Ethan. He smirks at me as I gaze up into his eyes. I begin to moan as James works me into a frenzy, his tongue hot and strong. Ethan pulls his Calvins down, presenting his hard cock to me.

As I smile up to him, he eases ever so slightly towards me, grabbing all of my hair in his hands. He guides his cock towards my mouth and I take it in. My lips are dry and the first thrust isn’t as smooth as I would have liked it to be, but after a second or two, everything is slippery and sliding. I wrap my fingers gingerly around his cock and guide it in and out of my mouth, using my tongue to stimulate his head and my hands to jerk the shaft. I can feel as James shoves two of his fingers inside of my pussy, his pointer and middle. It’s softly at first, but as I begin to hum with pleasure, he thrusts his fingers deeper and deeper inside of me.  I am within an inch of climaxing.

James and Ethan work in an astounding rhythm. When one goes fast and deep, so does the other. I can feel the tip of Ethan’s cock at the back of my throat, tears in my eyes.  I’ve never been mouth-fucked before, but I am starting to enjoy it. James struggles with his pants as the tip of his thumb circles my asshole. It’s been years since I’ve done anal sex and I start to get nervous.

As if reading my arousal, James shoves his cock deep into my pussy. I buck my hips from surprise and relish in how wet I am. I feel the sexiest I’ve felt in a very long time. I missed sex. I missed having wild and crazy sex with strangers. I slide Ethan’s cock out of my mouth and start jerking him off with my hand. I feel completely whole with James inside of me. I feel safe. He thrusts harder and harder, going deeper and deeper than anyone ever has before. His hands grip my thighs forcefully, so hard I think he’ll leave a bruise on me for sure, but I don’t care.

I’m breathing hard, my heart is pounding, and I’ve never felt like more of a woman.  I’m ready for anything now.

“Baby,” I hear James, “come taste yourself.” He pulls his cock out of my pussy and spins me around on my knees. “That’s right baby, taste yourself off of my dick. That’s right.” I wrap my lips around his cock and it tastes sweet. He’s marginally bigger than Ethan, has more girth, but both are about seven inches long. I wonder for a moment if they did that on purpose. Again, James takes all of my hair in his hands and away from my face. It’s Ethan’s turn, but he’s not moving. I can feel him lurking behind me on the bed, stroking himself and staring into me. “Baby,” James stops my mouth from sucking and pulls my chin up. “What do you want Ethan to do to you, baby?”

“I want him to fuck me.”

“I know, baby, I know. Where do you want him to fuck you?” I get instant butterflies, but I know if I stop to think about it, I’ll never let it come out of my mouth.

“I want him in my ass.” My jaw starts to hurt as Ethan approaches my anus. I stick my own finger into my pussy and get it wet. I like to use myself as a lubricant when I can and this is a night when I have plenty. James edges himself away from my face.

“I have a better idea. I have a better idea.” James lies down on his back in the center of the bed. “Get on top of me, baby. Come over here, get on top of me.” I smile. James has said everything twice for the last ten minutes. Everything is happening so quickly, and yet if I think to stop it, I can’t be sure I’ll ever be able to allow myself to be this irrationally sex-fueled again. So I crawl towards him and straddle his hips. He eases himself into me slowly and pulls my chest to his.

“I’ve never done this before,” I say because I feel like I should. I feel like I have to.

“It’s okay, baby,” James says while spreading my ass open for me, “we’re gonna do all the work for you. You just enjoy it, okay?” I nod into his chest and Ethan rubs the head of his cock on my asshole. I take in a deep breath and hold it as he pushes a little harder. James thrusts slightly, rocking my clit and firing off lightning bolts of pleasure.

Ethan pushes off and enters me fully. I shout out loud. All I can see are fireworks as I shut my eyes tightly. I climax instantly. I can feel my pussy oozing out around James’ cock. I feel like a puppet and I pray they don’t tear me apart, but the sensation is unlike anything I could ever hope to describe. We all start to pant, the men inside me pumping to their own beats. Even though I’ve just finished, I can feel the pressure building up inside of me again.

“I’m really close,” Ethan finally speaks. His voice is deep and strong tonight. I can feel his fingertips gripping my shoulders as he thrusts harder and deeper into me.   shriek and squeal with every thrust.

“I want to taste you,” I scream out at the top of my lungs. “Both of you.” I almost hear a pop as Ethan pulls himself out of me. He scoots over to me on his knees, grunting and jerking himself. James guides my head towards him and I open my mouth just in time for Ethan to spill his cum into it. It’s hot and sticky, but it was a taste that I missed. Everyone’s spunk tastes different, but all spunk tastes the same too. It’s hard to explain, I guess. I swallow his cum like a shot of sour liquor and watch Ethan slump onto his back, breathless.

James pulls himself out of me after one final thrust and I put my mouth around his cock like a fire hose on a hydrant. He lets loose and I can feel his cum hit the back of my throat and slide down into my stomach. His wasn’t as thick as Ethan’s, but there was definitely more of it. As I take the last of it down my gullet, I slump between my two billionaires, tired and shaking. The guys have steadied their breaths.