Breaking Joseph (3 page)

And I had
wanted Matt to change me. Did Joseph know that too?

“Are you sure
you did law, and not psychology?”

He
laughed–rich, dark. Unsettling. “I did study psychology, as it
happens.”

I pulled his
head back by a handful of hair. “Oh?”

“You really
want to know?”

“I do.” I
pushed his lips apart with a fingertip. Kissed him like I hadn’t
had breakfast.

“I started my
degree in psychology. At Cambridge.” He tugged my hips in and
mashed the gusset of my knickers over his solid cock. “It was horse
shit. I went into it because I was sick of putting people in boxes,
and that was all it amounted to, in the end. I dropped out.”

“I can’t
imagine you quitting anything.”

“It didn’t feel
like quitting, Leila. The course was a waste of my time. My dad
went berserk. Had words with people he knew there. I went back the
next year and read law.”

“That suited
better?”

“I wanted
philosophy or economics. He said they were useless and homosexual.”
He gave a lazy smile. “But in the end, law…I like the flexibility.
I get to reason my way out of all the boxes.” He pulled up my
skirt. “And into other things.”

“There’s not a
lot of reason under there.”

“Mmm.” He
brought my hands to his belt buckle and tugged it undone. “I could
change that.”

I teased him
out from beneath his clothes, my thumbs circling his head. Each
little twitch made me ache. “How might that work?”

He hooked a
finger under and slowly pushed my knickers aside, rubbing my clit
as he went. Our pubic bones met with a hollow thump as I sank on to
his cock. Now this was why I waxed–the sweet, sticky feel of skin
on skin.
Ah
.

“Let’s see…” He
sucked on my bottom lip. “I want to hear that pitch again.”

“Not now.”

He shoved me
down and my laughter ebbed to a moan. “Be a good girl.”

“I…no.”

The world
tipped backward when he bent, and I half fell on to the rug. Thick
velour burned against my back. His arms grew solid as he leaned on
them, as he pushed my legs back with a jerk of his knee, and he
went deep enough for the line between pleasure and pain to grow
transient.

“We’re a lot
like Redfish, you know.”

I yelped in
response.

“Pretending to
court this pitch, this perfect offer…when really, we were ready and
willing before we knew what was on the table.”

I arched
involuntarily and he caught a nipple in his mouth, biting through
my flimsy dress.

“And we will
fight out the terms with our perfect manners until we get what we
want. What suits us both.” Such a gruff voice. Caged. “Do you think
we could find something that suits us both, Leila?”

“I–if this is
common ground, I like it.”

His slow rhythm
was as foreboding as it was playful. “This is the battlefield.” He
pinned my hands above my head, gaining pace. “And that’s not what I
meant.” He reached down to drag my dress up, revealing the brand
he’d etched so carefully the night before. “This. This is what I
want.”

I didn’t know
what he was implying. Didn’t have the sense to ask, either.
Charlotte whispered that I shouldn’t, and I lay consumed with
writhing pleasure and the echo of my pulse in my ears.

“Joe…”

“Yeah?” The
word disintegrated to a low groan.

“I…I just like
saying it. Feels good in my mouth.”

“Oh.
Jesus.”

If he’d found
reason, now he ignored it, pounding himself into me hard enough to
bruise. I closed in around him, a fleshy corset with the ribbons
bound tight to his hips–either they would snap or I would. Ladies
first…

Then he
stopped. His whisper was rough around my earlobe. “Hands and
knees.”

For a moment, I
lay panting on the floor. Then it occurred to me what that meant.
Cool air rushed between my thighs and as it tickled, I realized how
soaking wet I was. I rolled on to my belly, and he tugged down my
knickers as my ass rose.

I’d been
waiting for him to do this since that first night in the Trafalgar
hotel.

To give him
credit, he was gentler than he’d ever been–I was so unprepared–but
I yielded like it didn’t matter and cried out at the warm ache. He
filled the valley he shouldn’t, the valley that pined for him
regardless, and I lurched forward only to sink back on to him all
over again.

“You’re good at
this.” He groaned. He brushed fingers around my hipbone, already
making the little circles that would drive me mad. I swear he
ploughed even deeper on that first stroke. Good job I’d made him so
slippery.

It wasn’t
making love; it wasn’t fucking, either. There was a connection on
that base level he spoke of and our skin rubbed raw with it. I
belonged here like this, taking all he had, gasping like my throat
would close in.

Back and forth,
back and forth. I was his, empty and then full of things that grew
for me. Things that didn’t need water and sun. He rocked until
circles spilled into my belly and I shuddered in the grip of the
waves. Couldn’t stop my mouth smiling around his name. It barely
ebbed before I shoved his fingers away, urging him faster, moaning
how I wanted to feel his own release. What with those perfect
manners and all…the wolf obliged.

“I’m not used
to having this much fun with my clothes still on.” I nuzzled the
shoulder that was suddenly beside mine. A strong arm drew me up for
a kiss.

“I love how
you’re so…so…”

I remembered
Matt’s comment about Aidan. “Slutty?”

“That term is
wasted on you, Leila.” He tucked dishevelled curls back behind my
ears. “What I mean is that I love how you don’t care about it.”

“It’s not a bad
thing.” I shrugged. “I’m not spreading myself around to the point
where I’m…”
Three cocks away from syphilis
. “Where I’m
ashamed. Besides, slutty has connotations that are more to do with
self-esteem than sex.”

“Indeed.”

My nail made a
little pink groove along his belly. It sprang up pale again. A
ghost. “It’s like people are suggesting you don’t do it for the
pleasure of it. Just the confidence boost.”

“Whereas they
assume men want the pleasure, but don’t much care about anything
else.”

I smiled up at
him, eyes playful. Charlotte talked now because he spoke her
language. “Nature says you’re sowing your wild oats, and that’s
what women are really after.”

He nodded. “I
just fucked nature in the arsehole. Let’s see how it likes that
one, hmm?”

* * * *

With lunch
still heavy in our stomachs, we rode down to the Redfish building
and plunged into the pitch.

Or at least,
Joseph, Yves and Poppy did. Matt and I sat at the end of the table
to observe. I’d seen Joseph do his stuff a couple of times–I’d been
working in his office for nearly six months, after all–but I’d
never watched him do it naked. This was X-ray vision. I couldn’t
shake the memory of that body. Words moulded to the broad line of
his shoulders, clung to his fingertips as he pointed and exclaimed,
and they dressed him better than his slim-fitting shirt.

I wasn’t the
only one, either. There were several women from Redfish present and
I saw their heads bobbing as he gestured, their eyes following his.
One might think a man explaining UK tax on acquisitions would be
boring. One would be right, too, except that Joseph turned it into
some form of mathematic porn.

Poppy stepped
in at the end to explain the fee structure. I was pleased with
myself for not being jealous, though she voiced it clearly and
cleverly, making it sound as if we were doing them a favour. I’d
had the envy pounded out of me–ahem–and judging by Matt’s greeting,
civil but uneasy, he was well aware.

Deacon paused
from chewing his pen. “So say we decide to use you. We make our
offer. What sort of timescale are we looking at?”

“Depends
entirely on Hemmings,” Yves replied. “Once they accept–and they’ll
probably have to consult with their shareholders first, as well as
their own legal team–we can begin the process in a matter of
hours.”

“And how long
can we expect them to entertain our offer?”

Joseph
shrugged. “Anything from a few hours to a few days. A company
Hemmings’ size, it will be adequate. But we’re very persistent.” He
smiled. “Things happen fast over here, as you say. We can keep
up.”

Deacon nudged
Kenji and murmured something under his breath.

“Assuming the
offer went through, we’d be spending a fair amount of time in the
UK to get the things underway,” said Kenji. “I trust you’d be able
to help us in that respect?”

“Absolutely.”
Joseph perched on the end of the desk. “Most of our work is at an
international level. We represent several other pharmaceutical
companies in both Europe and the US, so we get a lot of practice in
entertaining our clients. We look after people. We’re very good at
that. Matt?”

Matt blinked at
him. “Mr Merchant?”

“You’ve done
some brilliant networking for us in particular. Maybe you’d like to
explain how we welcome our clients in the UK?”

I was surprised
at Matt’s steady tone, his choice details. Proud of him, actually.
Clever boy, once mine, who now belonged only to minutes he graced
with breath.

I half expected
to be picked on, but the questions were done. Joseph inclined his
head to indicate that we were free, and then drew Deacon and Kenji
into the corner for a more personal chat. Poppy lingered awkwardly
at his side, nodding and smiling like a wooden puppet–he didn’t
make an effort to involve her and I pitied her a bit. Putting my
jealousy aside, she really was good at all this. Hell, I’d hire
her.

I wandered out
on to the hot pavement with Matt.

“That went
well,” I said.

He stuffed his
hands into his pockets as we walked. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

“Gorgeous
afternoon.” I felt like we should be talking. About…something.

“For a concrete
jungle, I suppose. Still can’t get used to big cities and I’ve been
in London for years.”

“I like them.
Well, I like the people in them, anyway.”

“I know.”

He said it so
mournfully that I could have wept.

Chapter 2

“Look at you,
Lei-Lei. It’s disgusting.”

I raised an
eyebrow at Aidan as I fell down into the raffia chair. He’d chosen
an Italian place for dinner, and the evening was cool and balmy,
just the weather for sitting outside. Tucked into the sidewalk, our
table made a rock beside a meandering river of pedestrians.

“What’s
disgusting?”

He took off his
sunglasses and smoothed his unruly hair. “It’s all over you, you
foul whore. You’re…happy.” A mock shudder punctuated the last
word.

“Am I?” Oh. My
face didn’t ache through squinting at the sun, but because of the
great grin plastered over it. “I suppose I am, a bit.”

“You’re all
glowy and I don’t like it. Go back to being jaded and fucked-over
again.”

From an
olive-skinned waitress who wore huge hoop earrings, we ordered
cocktails: Appletinis and Long Island Iced Tea.

“I’ve missed
you.” Aidan sighed. “Mattman is nice to look at, but his
tortured-warrior-of-lurve act is wearing a bit thin.”

“You’re only
saying that because he hasn’t shagged you.” I giggled.

“No, no, that’s
not true. He’d be a miserable fuck right now.”

“Now you’re
just out and out lying!”

“Meh…yeah, I
am.” He grinned over the menu. “He's definitely hit his Christopher
Nolan years. What are you ordering? Will you have fat slag food
with me?”

I scanned the
laminated card. “Define fat slag food.”

“Cheese,
followed by refined carbs, followed by cheese. With a side order of
no-lost-irony skinny fries.”

“Full-fat Coke
too?”

“I may have
just come in my pants.” He gasped, laughing. “Oh yes. You have ways
of working it off, anyway.”

I prayed he
wouldn't notice my blush. “A lady doesn’t tell.”

“Oh no. You did
not just give me that. It’s too easy!”

“Pfft. As if
I’m not a lady.”

“Ladies are no
fun. I forgive you.”

We waited for
the waiters to leave and clinked our new glasses together.

“So,” he went
on, “I want to hear your Story of O in progress. Tell me
everything.”

It spilled out,
the majority of it, hushed tones split by mouthfuls of pasta. He
nodded and listened, silent for once–a strange thing for Aidan.

“You shouldn’t
be talking that way about a client,” he said eventually.

“What way?”

“Emotionally.”
He wiped greasy fingers on a paper napkin. “Lei-Lei. You know what
you’re doing. You’re good at what you’re doing. That is what he is
interested in, regardless of whatever else he says.”

“It’s not just
what he says.”

“What do you
mean?”

I squirmed in
my chair, branded skin burning with slow heat. “I don’t know how to
show you,” I muttered, playing with the hem of my skirt. “Follow me
to the bathroom, okay?”

He grinned like
his face would split and I kicked him under the table.

“Not like
that!”

“Spoilsport.”

Inside the
restaurant, I found my way into a tiled, cool corridor. He appeared
behind me, and with a swift check for company, I ushered him into a
ladies’ cubicle. There, I leaned back against the wall and
scrunched my dress beneath my breasts to reveal the scratched
signature across my belly.

Aidan’s brows
twisted in shock. “For fuck’s sake. Are you all right?”

“Uh-huh.”

He traced the
raised lines, a cobweb of scarlet calligraphy. “Why the hell did
you let him do that?”

“I…” I’d never
been ashamed to look Aidan in the eye before. I didn’t think that
was possible. “I thought
you
would understand.”