Jessica stared at the glowing screen of her phone. Another message. The third one in the past few minutes.
HARRY: We need to talk. I’m at the garage.
Her thumb hovered over the delete button, trembling slightly. Around her, the office had emptied hours ago.
She should be working. God knows she needed to be working. The stack of files on her desk had grown into a small mountain during her absence, each one screaming for attention before the company deadline. Her trip to see her sick mother had cost her more than just time.
But the paperwork was the least of her problems. Harry wanted Rhoda again! The thought made Jessica’s stomach clench, made her skin cold despite the stuffy warmth of the office.
She set the phone down carefully, as if it might explode, and pressed her palms flat against the desk. How was she supposed to tell Rhoda, after what happened?
After the incident at the hotel. The panic and the terror. The certainty, for one eternal moment, that her best friend would have died. And it would have been her fault. Jessica had kept the real plan from Rhoda from the beginning.
She had to. If she’d told her the truth that Harry and his friends wanted a foursome, Rhoda would have rejected the offer. She would have said no immediately.
But Jessica had known her friend’s weaknesses. She knew that the sight of all those zeros would make Rhoda consider the offer, despite every instinct screaming otherwise. She sold her. She sold her best friend.
Since that night, Jessica hadn’t been able to face her. She’d seen Rhoda’s name light up her phone screen dozens of times, calls and texts that piled up like accusations. Jessica had ignored them all, letting each one ring through to silence, watching the notifications stack up like unpaid debts.
Until the engagement party invitation arrived. Jessica had stared at the message for an hour before finally finding the courage to call. And Rhoda—sweet, forgiving, impossibly trusting Rhoda—had answered on the first ring, her voice bright with relief.
“Jess! Oh my God, I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks!”
They talked for about two hours. Rhoda told her everything—the hotel, the hospital, the recovery. And then, voice dropping to a whisper even though she was alone, she told Jessica about Fred.
Frank’s brother, how she found herself in his hospital the following day and his recent threats and blackmail. Rhoda had played smart too; she didn’t tell Jessica she had fucked and filmed Fred, and that she had been blackmailing him too.
Jessica’s phone chimed again, yanking her back to the present.
HARRY: Still waiting. Don’t make me come up there.
She looked at the files on her desk, then at the clock on the wall. 7:47 PM. She could finish this work. Stay here until dawn if she had to, drowning herself in paperwork and pretending Harry didn’t exist.
Or she could go down there. Face him. And then come back and work through the night anyway. Jessica grabbed her purse.
The parking garage was a concrete tomb. Most of the cars were gone now, the day shift long departed. Jessica’s heels echoed off the low ceiling as she made her way through the rows. She spotted Harry’s car immediately.
It was impossible to miss—a sleek black beast that cost ten times more than her annual salary, parked arrogantly across two spaces like it owned the place. Jessica paused a few feet away, smoothing down her blouse with hands that wanted to shake. She opened the passenger door and slid inside.
The interior smelled like leather and expensive cologne. Harry sat in the driver’s seat, one hand resting casually on the steering wheel, his eyes bright with something that might have been amusement or might have been hunger.
That grin, that mischievous, knowing grin—was already playing across his face. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he said. Not a question. An accusation wrapped in silk.
Jessica forced a smile, keeping her eyes forward, refusing to look at him. “I’ve been busy at work.”
“Busy.” He drew the word out, tasting it. “So.” His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, a rhythm that matched her racing heartbeat. “How about our deal?”
The question she’d been dreading, the reason she’d avoided his calls for weeks. “I can’t.” The words came out harder than she’d intended. “You guys almost killed her last time.”
“But it was fun.” Harry’s voice was light, playful, completely devoid of guilt. He leaned back in his seat, that grin widening.
“Your friend did great, Jessica. Absolutely wild.” He paused, his voice dropping to something almost reverent. “Please. I’m begging you. I need you to set it up again.”
Jessica’s hands clenched in her lap. “She almost died, Harry.”
“But she didn’t.” He said it so easily, like Rhoda’s life was just a detail, a minor inconvenience in his pursuit of pleasure. Then he held up his hands as if offering a peace treaty.
“This time it’ll just be her. One on one. No friends, no surprises.”
“No.” Jessica kept her face forward, glued to the windshield. “Absolutely not.”
Besides, the timing couldn’t be worse. Rhoda’s engagement party was in just a few days. The woman was about to marry Frank, about to start a new life, and Harry wanted Jessica to—what? Pull her back into this world? Risk everything again? Absolutely wrong timing for this.
“Jessica.” Harry’s voice was closer now. She felt him lean toward her, felt the warmth of him in the small space.
His fingers found her face, brushing a strand of hair back with a gentleness that made her chest ache.
“Come on. I’ll double the pay.”
Her breath caught. Double!
“And I promise—” His hand lingered near her cheek, his thumb tracing a line along her jaw. “I promise you, it’ll just be the two of us. No one else. No risk.”
Jessica’s mind spun. Double the money! That would be enough for her mother’s surgery and medications. But how? How could she possibly convince Rhoda to do this again? After everything? After the hotel, after the near-death experience, after Fred too. The thought struck her like lightning.
Fred. Frank’s brother. The married man who’d been threatening Rhoda. The hypocrite who preached family values while screwing anything that moved. A slow, wicked plan began to form in her mind.
She’d slept with Fred—multiple times. She had evidence, photos, texts, if she went back through her phone. Enough to destroy his marriage, his reputation, his life. If Fred was threatening Rhoda, Jessica could threaten him right back and make sure Fred never opened his mouth again.
And then—then maybe she could convince Rhoda that she needed the money. This time, no one would get hurt. That they both needed it. That this time would be different, safer, cleaner.
“I’ll let you think about it,” Harry said, watching her closely. His eyes traced the lines of her face like he was reading a book. “Take your time. Get back to me when you—”
“There’s nothing to think—” Jessica started, but the words died as Harry leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. The world stopped.
Her mind screamed at her to pull back, to push him away, to end this kiss immediately and get out of this car and never look back. But her heart—her traitorous, desperate, lonely heart—wanted something entirely different.
Jessica had always had feelings for Harry right from the beginning, but then she had started as his whore, just like she was Fred’s whore, just like she’d probably end up being someone else’s whore because that’s all she seemed to be good for.
But this kiss—this kiss felt different. Felt real. Even though she knew this was manipulation, pure and simple, designed to get her to agree to his terms.
She knew all of it. And still, Jessica melted into it and let the kiss linger.
Her hands moved of their own accord, sliding up to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. His mouth was warm, insistent, tasting of mint and promises neither of them would keep.
Her fingers drummed once against the armrest, a deliberate tap that pulled his attention to her hands—long and capable, the kind that could unbuckle a belt with equal precision. Her hand slid to his zipper, tugging it down with a soft rasp.
“I’ve missed your cock”, she said, her lips curving into a wicked smile.
“Really,” Harry groaned. His cock twitched against his zipper, already half-hard, the heat of her seeping through the fabric of his slacks. Her fingers brushed against his thigh, creeping upward. Harry’s body went rigid.
Jessica smirked, a slow, knowing curve of her mouth that sent a jolt straight to his groin. She didn’t hesitate. One hand dropped to his thigh before sliding inward.
The first brush of her knuckles against the bulge in his pants made him jerk, a sharp inhale hissing between his teeth. She chuckled, low and dark.
She loved the fact that she was in control.
Her fingers worked the button of his slacks and zippers with practised ease. The cool air hit his straining cock, but it was nothing compared to the heat of her palm when she wrapped her hand around him.
Harry groaned, his head thumped back against the seat. She began to stroke his hard cock, her grip firm enough to make my hips lift off the seat.
“Fuck,” Harry muttered, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.
Jessica leaned in, her breath ghosting over the head of his cock before her tongue flicked out, wet and hot. Harry hissed, his fingers tangling in the tight curls of her hair.
The first drag of her tongue along the underside had his vision whiting out for a second; his hips bucked up involuntarily. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she took him into her mouth, her throat opening as she sank, her nose brushing the trimmed hair at the base.
“Shit Jess” Harry’s voice was a wreck, broken and desperate.
He could feel the first warning twinge of his orgasm already coiling tight in his gut. But then, she pulled back before he could tip over, her lips glistening, a string of saliva connecting her to the head of his cock before she broke it with a smirk.
“Now I want you to fuck me first,” Jessica murmured, her voice husky. As she spoke, she was already pulling down her pants along with her underpants.
Then she shifted in the small space, her knees pressing into the seat as she threw one leg over his lap. The car groaned under the redistribution of weight as she hovered above him, straddling him.
Her fingers found his cock again, guiding it to her entrance. Harry could already feel her wetness and the slick heat of her pussy even before she sank on him.
He pulled her, lowering her down completely on his erect penis, her inner walls clenching around him in a slow, deliberate squeeze until he was lodged firmly inside her.
They both groaned as her nails dug into his shoulders, her ass pressing against his thighs.
“Fuck, I miss you,” Jessica breathed, her forehead dropping to his. Her breath was hot, her lips brushing his with every word. Her kiss was messy and desperate, her hips already rolling in small, testing circles.
The friction was maddening; the drag of her pussy along his cock sending sparks up his spine. Jessica squealed and whimpered in pleasure. Yelling wordless, incoherent words.
Harry broke the kiss. His fingers fumbled with the buttons of her shirt, and they gave way one after the next until the fabric parted, revealing the white lace bra beneath. Jessica’s tits were full and heavy, the lace barely containing them as she moved.
Harry pushed the cups down, freeing her breasts and revealing her dark, stiff nipples that begged for his mouth. She gasped when he latched onto one, her back arched, pushing her fullness deeper onto his face.
Written by Tito
This post has already been read 426 times!