“You smell like a brewery,” Patrick said as I stepped into the entryway.
“Thanks, I like to call it ‘desperately trying to drink my feelings away’,” I replied happily.
I kicked my heels off and shivered as my feet touched the cold wood floor, without waiting for him I set off towards the study. All the windows were uncovered, showcasing the night sky and city life, it made the apartment glow with greyish-silver light and cast shadows across the walls. Patrick’s study was less of a professional space and more an English Gentleman’s Club; the wall behind the desk was covered in various bottles of fancy alcohol, some empty, some full, and tucked away into a little nook in the corner. In the centre of the room were two ornately carved billiards tables, several black leather sofas faced the tables with silhouette landscape paintings of naked women above them. The room was carpeted in dark maroon shag, and the walls a light grey. Patrick had two décor styles; modern or classic, there was no in-between.
I heard him pad in behind me as I jumped up on the desk, my knees tight together and my hands braced on the wooden surface behind me. He walked past me and grabbed whisky off the shelf before dropping into the plush, high-back chair, slouching down and eyeing me curiously.
Patrick took a long swig straight from the bottle. “Nice dress,” he said finally.
I glanced down at myself; my nipples were straining against the material in the cold room, suddenly, being braless didn’t seem so smart. “You think so? Maybe I should start wearing it at work.”
“Are you looking to get fucked in the marble lobby?”
“No.”
“Then you probably shouldn’t wear it to work, otherwise you’d spend most of the day under my desk with my cock down your throat.”
“Just your desk?” I asked, cocking my head to the side.
He arched an eyebrow. “Is there someone else’s you’d like to be under?”
“You know there is,” I retorted, taking the bottle from him and taking a long sip. Not bad. It tasted a lot better after everything else that I had drunk tonight.
Patrick pursed his lips, his eyes narrow as he scanned my face. “I told you I love you, and you’re telling me you want to fuck someone else?”
I passed the bottle back to him. “You want me to blindly fuck strangers, but I know Jon, and it makes me feel more comfortable to be spending time between you two instead of being thrown to the wolves.”
Patrick frowned slightly. “Is that all this is?”
“All what is?”
He held the bottle out and I turned it down before he replied, “It bothers you when I share you with other men?”
For a man with a master’s degree, you aren’t very smart. “No shit it bothers me.”
“You seemed to like it, you never said anything before now, and you wanted Ike to join us.”
“I trusted Ike, I had some time to talk with him and we built a rapport. I didn’t like the initiation.”
“Would it be just Jon and I then, or would you want to add others in the future?”
I toyed with the hemline of my dress; the stretchy, gauzy material felt nice. “I don’t know. And I don’t think that’s important right now.”
“You were excited to be a fulltime sub…”
“I spent the past seven weeks speeding through every game you wanted to play, sacrificing my own time, and doing everything you wanted. I was a fulltime sub, Patrick.”
He leaned forward suddenly; his arms braced on either side of my legs as he gazed up at me. “Where did ballsy Lydia come from? What happened to complacent Lydia?”
I smirked and ran my fingers through his hair. “I had time away to figure my shit out, to straighten my priorities. I don’t want to be complacent Lydia, not anymore, because she gets hurt, and I want to feel like your equal.”
“You are, whether you knew that before or not.” He paused and stroked his hands up my legs. “I want you to love me, I want you to feel the way I have about you for so long, and if you can promise me you won’t give that to Jon, then I’ll agree.”
Jon will never love me. It felt that way; I had worked so hard just to get him to notice me and he had, but he stepped back for Patrick. “It’ll only ever be you,” I promised. “I’m sorry I can’t say I love you now, and I’m sorry I said it at the club – it wasn’t fair to you.”
Patrick kissed shin, his fingers lightly moving up my leg as his lips moved higher. “I knew you were in a bad state emotionally, I could see it and I knew you probably didn’t quite mean it, but I wanted it to be true.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeated quietly, my heart tightening painfully.
“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart, you wanting to be with me at all makes me happy. I want more with you, eventually, but I’m in no rush.” He continued to kiss his way up my legs, his hands were soft as they slowly pushed my knees apart.
My breath caught in my throat and I tipped my head back, his beard tickled my thighs and teeth grazed my flesh with every kiss. He worked the hem of my dress up, pushing it back before jerking the top down to free my breasts.
“I don’t want to have sex,” I mumbled as his mouth reached my tits. “Not tonight, Patrick.”
“You don’t even want me to taste your pussy?” he teased, his eyes burning as he gazed up at me.
Oh, that sounds lovely… “I’m not reciprocating,” I said with a giggle. I spread my legs wider, letting him see that I hadn’t worn panties either.
“You don’t need to.”
I laid back on the desk and closed my eyes, letting my fingers curl into his silky lock as he explored every inch of my exposed skin. Patrick moved slowly and carefully; his touch determined. My head was swimming and I was slightly dizzy, worse was the headache developing from my hair tie being to tight. I yanked it out without a second thought, the instant it was out I was focused on the warmth in my abdomen, the heat spreading and taking over rational thought.
Patrick wasn’t moving fast enough; I pushed him down towards my aching pussy. He laughed but went eagerly, his tongue tracing the length of my slit before delving inside. I moaned and grabbed my tits, arching my back as he found my clit and sucked it into his mouth. I massaged my nipples, revelling in the waves of pleasure radiating from both our touches.
“Finger me,” I begged, writhing against the desk.
Patrick hummed as he contemplated my request, he didn’t think about it for too long before two thick digits were pressing hard on my g-spot. I cried out in shock and ground my hips on him as he thrust his fingers into me over and over, working the sensitive spot hard while he grazed his teeth on my clit. I gripped the table under me as light tremors ran through my body. His tongue flicked across the sensitive nub while he had it trapped between his teeth.
Everything came together at once and I cried out again as a flood of wetness bathed my thighs and his mouth. I shivered and my heart was pounding in my ears as he pulled away, I couldn’t move right away, focused solely on calming my erratic breathing.
Patrick kissed the dip between my breasts. “I love that,” he murmured against my skin.
“I don’t,” I complained in a high-pitched whine. “It’s even messier than yours, not to mention embarrassing.”
He chuckled and pulled me up, without warning he pressed his lips to mine. His mouth was fierce and unyielding, I opened against him happily and let my tongue find his. He tasted warm, sweet, and slightly salty, not much different than if I had swallowed his come. I wrapped my arms around his neck and sagged against him as a rush of fatigue hit me.
“Tired?” he asked with obvious amusement.
My head dropped to his shoulder. “Mmhmm,” I hummed. “Carry me?”
Patrick sighed dramatically. “I’m not carrying you all the way upstairs, but I will take us to the guest room.”
I giggled and kissed his throat. He threw me over his shoulder unceremoniously and I yelped in surprise before falling into another fit of laughter after he gave my ass a good smack.
When I finally pried my eyes open the room was spinning and my head throbbing as I sat up a little too quickly. My stomach lurched and I threw my self to the side as I vomited on the hardwood. I groaned and swept my hair back while I hung off the edge of the bed.
“Ah, my favourite thing to hear in the morning,” Patrick mumbled as he rolled over. “My girlfriend puking all over the floor.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled guiltily.
He rubbed my back in slow circles, humming quietly to himself. “It’s alright, but I’m not cleaning it up, that’s what the help’s for.”
I rolled my eyes and pushed myself up, slowly this time. I was sweaty, my hair stringy and knotted, and I could just imagine what my makeup looked like now. “I’m gonna take a shower…”
“Want me to come?”
“Do you want to risk me puking on you?”
“Never mind, I’ll stay here and see about breakfast. There are extra toothbrushes in the cabinet,” he said quickly.
I nodded along and dragged myself to the ensuite. The entire bathroom was black on grey marble and smaller than his own, no bathtub, just an open shower stall with overhead rainfall, and single backlit vanity. I grabbed one of the purple plush towels from the cabinet and stripped down.
The shower was heavenly but brushing my teeth and feeling the after-effects of the night before getting scrubbed away felt infinitely better. My hair felt a little weird after using his shampoo, but I liked the way the scent of that plus the body wash smelled like him. I found myself one of his t-shirts and a collection of pain meds waiting on the bed, downing two of the Advil and Tylenol, I took off down the hall to the kitchen.
I smiled shyly when I saw one of the housekeepers and thanked her for cleaning up my mess, she just laughed and assured me it was fine since she rarely had anything to do around the apartment anyway. Patrick really didn’t need a fulltime staff but he liked having it, though I thought it was a little weird to be sharing his apartment with strangers.
As I approached the kitchen I heard talking, I froze and pressed against the wall as I tried to listen in. Is that Jon? Did Patrick call him? I frowned and entered the room anyway, pretending I hadn’t noticed someone else there until I saw both of them leaning against the island countertop.
“Feel better?” Patrick asked as I jumped up on one of the stools. He’d gotten dressed; a navy-blue suit with a stark white shirt and a blue and silver striped tie, he also still had light shadows under his eyes.
I laid my head on my arms as I watched the two of them sip their coffee. “Infinitely,” I answered with a faint smile. “But I feel bad for the housekeepers…”
“It’s what they’re paid for, stop worrying about it,” he said as he glanced at Jon and rolled his eyes.
I stuck my tongue out at them. “Am I missing something? I was pretty sure this was Sunday.”
“We’re closing out the Hudson merger today, everything moved a bit quicker than we thought and they're eager to get shit done,” Jon said. “We’re going to meet Charles at the office and sign the papers shortly.”
Oh. “Sorry,” I told Patrick sheepishly, my cheeks burning at the realization that I had disturbed him the night before a big meeting. “I’ll be out of your hair in a minute—”
He pinned me with an exasperated look. “You don’t have to leave; we shouldn’t take long.”
“Yeah, but I’d rather not stay here alone…”
“Why?” Patrick asked, a crease forming between his eyebrows.
“I don’t know, I’ve never been here alone before, I guess?” Is there a problem?
“And that’s an issue because…?”
Jon side-eyed me as well and I shrugged as my cheeks burned harder. “I don’t know, what if a murderer breaks in? Or I break something, and I don’t have anyone to blame it on?”
“You’re nervous to be alone with the help, aren’t you?” Jon teased.
“Yes,” I snapped. “It’s weird, okay? They’ve done all this stuff and makes me feel weird.”
“What stuff?” Patrick asked incredulously. “They clean, Lydia, it’s not weird.”
“They clean the sheets, they’ve seen toys, they’ve now cleaned my vomit, and then there was that really awkward morning where I was still wearing my collar.” That morning had been awful, and I wanted nothing more than to die of utter embarrassment. The two men laughed, and I glared at them angrily. “It’s not funny…”
Patrick smirked and offered a noncommittal shrug. “If you feel that strongly about it, you can come with us.”
That’s almost worse. “In my bar clothes?”
“It’s here, or the office, and you’ve got two minutes to choose,” Jon said, all humour gone from his voice.
I groaned and threw my hands up in exasperation before heading off to find my dress. The housekeepers must have found it in the study because now it was sitting folded on the guest bed with my heels and smelling of fresh linen detergent. I got dressed quickly and pulled my hair into a sleek ponytail before joining them in the foyer. Jon’s eyes wandered over me, lingering on my tits and I cursed myself for not wearing a bra the entire way to the office.
I waited patiently in Jon’s office as they signed the paperwork, texting Allie about her night with the girl she had brought home, Vicki. Allie was already smitten with her, which was great to see, and raved about how cool she was. I couldn’t help but just laugh and shake my head; she complained endlessly about previous bad relationships but dangle a new one in her face and she was always ready to try again. I had to respect her optimism and willingness to take another chance.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when I was jolted by Jon’s voice, I stood quickly and greeted him, then blushed hard as I realized I was acting like a trained dog. Wow, maybe they were right about ‘training’ me. He beckoned to me and I followed him obediently from my desk into his actual office.
The second I shut the door he spun me around, pinning me to it with my hands above my head. “Lovely dress,” he murmured against my lips. “It hides absolutely nothing; I can even see your cunt through it.”
“Patrick’s waiting for us,” I whispered as my eyes betrayed me and fell shut.
“He can wait a little longer.”
Jon’s knee pressed between mine and his hand went to my pussy, stroking it softly as he roughly explored my willing mouth. His lips found the soft spot on my throat that made my eyes roll back and my thighs clench together, he sucked it hard, his tongue swirling around it. I gasped his name and writhed against him and the door. Instantly, his hand left my pussy and tightened around my neck, his glacial eyes hard and glaring down at me.
“I think we’ve already talked about that,” he warned.
“At the Club,” I reminded him, refusing to break the eye contact or back down. “But we’re not at the Club, and you aren’t my Master.”
Jon’s eyes glittered and a smirk tugged his lips. “Oh, someone’s found her balls, are they on loan or did you purchase them yourself?”
“Purchased,” I retorted. “It’s amazing what a few days can do to clear the mind.”
“Not for long, now go bend over the desk,” he snapped.
“Make me.”
He grabbed my hair and marched me over to his desk, my wrist in his tight grip as he forced me down onto it. I squirmed and fought his hold, once he had me down I stopped fighting as much and glared out the window. There was nothing he could do to make me go back to being a doormat, nothing.
Jon pushed my dress up and his hand met my ass in a harsh blow that made me yelp. My ass cheek burned, the heat of the blow creating a throbbing pain.
“You don’t want to call me Mr. Harris anymore?” he whispered in my ear.
“No!”
He struck again and this time I was able to hold back my wail, but tears rose, and I struggled to keep them from running down my face. “Say ‘thank you, Mr. Harris’,” he ordered, his voice guttural. I could hear his quick, laboured breathing now and I knew I had gotten him extremely worked up. I’d be lucky to make it out of this office being able to sit at all.
“No!” I protested loudly, again.
Another hit, even harder than the last two and on the other cheek this time. Tears rolled down my face as heat built between my legs and my pussy became slick with my wetness.
Jon jerked me back by my hair, his mouth on my ear and his arm around my chest, pinning me to him. “Then say ‘thank you, daddy,” he growled.
Oh, fuck me. Patrick’s joke about daddy issues came to mind and I couldn’t hide the gasp that escaped me at Jon’s words. “Thank you, daddy,” I whispered, my voice thick with embarrassment.
He started laughing, the sound reverberating through me as he shook. I clenched my eyes shut and tried to will the butterflies in my stomach away.
“See?” he asked. “I’m always going to be able to break you, Lydia. Always. Now try and clean your dripping cunt up a bit, Patrick might not mind us fucking anymore but I doubt he wants to see evidence of it.”