Page 84 of Five
Working with the notoriously renowned Gabriel Reed would be a coveted experience to add to my resume. He’s sort of a legend in the legal circles, rarely loses a case. I can learn a lot from him—not that I’d ever admit it to his face—while enjoying a hard dicking from Bez or Gabe. Or both.
“That’s a very generous offer, and I accept the work part, although I foresee blazing battles and flying objects.” The prospect of angry sex, though, is a mega bonus. “But I won’t accept favoritism. My online classes are fine for now.” I started them at a leisurely pace after Ollie went back to university a few months back. Seeing how excited he was reminded me how much I enjoyed my courses before Gran got sick.
Gabe nods way too easily. Fake compliance is my thing! I abhor it unless I’m the one executing it. But I’m intrigued by the battle of wits we’ll engage in. I want to see what strategy he’s going to use to try to make me do what he wants.
Challenge accepted.
“Okay. I accept your…offer,” I state, hoping my wording will remind him that this is my choice.
He nods and turns to his computer. I'm not irritated by it. I’m still floating on my post-orgasmic cloud.
Guess it’s time to go. The little devil on my shoulder pushes me to go and sit on his lap, to disturb him a little more. But I have a new office to convert into my own fabulous pied-à-terre.
Warmth blossoms over my chest at the thought of spending more time with Gabe and Bez in the office. Ollie has turned me into such a mushy idiot.
A bubble of excited laughter threatens to burst out as I make it to my office, and my heart is still beating a funny rhythm by the time I close the door behind me. I look around and release a satisfied sigh. I got thoroughly fucked, and now I have a large office on the top floor of one of the most prestigious law firms in Chicago. This is the farthest thing from fresh hell that I’ve ever seen.
A new shiny laptop stands out on the white modern desk. My pink ergonomic chair feels great against my abused butt. I pull it closer to the desk and fire the laptop up. Then I type DID and multiplicity in the search browser.
There’s a lot of information, mostly from psychiatrists and therapy centers. I click on a blog created by people with both conditions. There’s also the point of view of their loved ones.
I get lost in it, and only later, I realize how invested I already am in this pseudo relationship.
nine
GABRIEL/BEZALIEL
I used to think that I liked my life. The routine, the privacy, the long nights working by myself.
Now I find myself standing in front of my walk-in closet. It’s split down the middle, and it’s clear which side belongs to Lori and which one is mine. His is a clash of fabrics in every color, pattern, and style imaginable. Some things no one but him could pull off—like the neon pink yoga pants or the fluorescent green furry sweater. That sheer, black fishnet bodysuit looked extremely hot on him, so damn hot that I nailed him against the first wall I could find in my apartment yesterday as I came back from the office.
I take a deep breath. It’s like feeling him linger in the air, a faint thread of lilies everywhere I go, winding its way through the whole apartment. He has permeated the house this last week, left his imprint everywhere he walked and sat. Like a bomb, he exploded, invading my space, leaving pieces of himself in each room. Bras, makeup, shoes, hair accessories. It irritates megreatly, he’s a slob. Nevertheless, I like him here sharing my stuff, seeing him walk rumpled from my bed to the closet every morning in his skimpy t-shirts.
His absence would be more real and felt deeper than his presence, and the fact that he halts the uneasiness in me is not the only reason. The abrupt certainty unsettles me. The thought of not being around Lori ever again leaves me with a hollow, sick feeling all the way from my chest down to my very soul.
He’s never going to fucking leave, Bez states. Still under the illusion that he has any kind of power over him.
With the way we wake him up every night, hard cock fucking one of his holes? Abso-fucking-lutely. He loves that shit, he insists.
I still recall his shocked gasps, head tossed back, mouth hung open, his breathy moans as I rolled my hips the way he likes. I’ve never felt my groans reverberate so deeply in my throat, such grit in the sound, my dick pulsing repeatedly while stretching his walls until he whimpered.
My cock turns half hard at the thought. Bez especially likes to fuck Lori when he sleepwalks to our bed—he still does it at times—or falls asleep on the sofa while watching one of his gory movies. I prefer to take him to bed and slowly have my time with him when he’s wide awake. It doesn’t matter to Lori, he's always eager to take us anyway we want.
I turn around and step on one of Wednesday’s squeaky toys. She doesn’t like them, squawks at the sound, and proceeds to stomp on them with her clawed feet. I also found out that she’s a skilled pickpocket. With her beak, she can get to anything but seemsespecially fond of my wallet. She runs incredibly fast on those stick legs when I try to get it back.
When we went shopping a week ago, Lori brought Wednesday in a pink baby carrier, stating that his lady needed all the fresh air she could get. The hen seemed to like it, staring at me with that red, empty gaze. She didn’t cluck even once while we went from one shop to another.
I expected Lori to buy things for himself, but he chose some items for my apartment, more things for Wednesday, a few small presents for Sully and Ollie. Only when we stopped at his favorite thrift store did he choose some things for himself. I still saw the way he stared longingly at some designer bags in a shop window. I know he rents his from some weird app.
So I bought two and gave them to Lori that night, earning a beaming smile and a koala hug, while my dick got the ride of its life.
Lori will get a bag collection,Bezsays.
No arguments from me.
Of course not. Your dick is on board, finally.Bezlets out one of his low chuckles.
The only thing Lori loves more than bags is the law and all its loops and twisted facets. I come back home every night and find him listening to rock music on the sofa with his nose in thick books, studying hard for his course. I know he has what it takes to become a great lawyer. Passion, persistence, and a sharp mind. I find myself thinking of ways to help him without letting him know. He’s used to doing things by himself, and I admire his perseverance, not so much his stubbornness. Don’t like his petty little revenges.
