Breaking Joseph (16 page)

“That ball
thing? Ugh. I’d forgotten–” The last world melted to a gasp as he
stretched me. I was still sore across the buttocks from his angry
palm–see, Joseph did not do things by halves. He did them in
multiples, and I wasn’t the notch. I was the bedpost.

“Don’t be so
fucking ungrateful.” His blond hair tickled my forehead. “I’ll be
introducing you to all my riveting tax contacts as the newest
member of my team.”

“Sounds…fascinating. Mmm.” I traced his shoulder blades as they
roved beneath his flesh, imagined him being grown, put together.
“Who will come on to me this time, do you think?”

“Deacon won’t
be there.” He brought my hands back up over my head. “We ought to
go as a couple, sweetheart. That’ll shut them all up.”

He’d caught me
in too many of the right spots already, and the tree slid into view
as if it was tattooed on my eyelids. The snake flicked his forked
tongue; either it was hissing or I was panting. Maybe they were one
and the same.

“What do you
think?” he said.

“Mmm?” I took
my own hair in fistfuls. Needed the pain.

“We should go
as a couple.”

“Joe, will you
shut up?”

He eased out of
me with a coarse laugh, and his teeth caught at my hips and
stomach. When he reached the split of my mound, he blew softly. Ah,
ah. His eyelids went heavy with perverse longing.

“Here?” he
whispered.

“Please.”

“On Thursday,
then.” A slow lick along the base of my clit. “You and me.”

“I thought we
were keeping things quiet?” I spread further. That tongue felt so
gorgeously warm.

“Changed my
mind.”

“Fickle
boy.”

He drew back
and spanked the length of my pussy. Heat tore across my bottom lip
as I bit down.

“What was
that?” he said.

“I…nothing.
Have it your way.”

He’s parading
you around like the spoils of war.

If I was never
aware of the war in the first place, how would I know the value of
what was won?

* * * *

“I didn’t wake
you up, did I?” Elise trilled over the phone.

Each blink in
the lamplight of my bedroom was like being stabbed in the eye.
“Erm. No.” Three in the morning…I needed to buy an alarm clock and
turn off that fucking phone. “Is everything all right?”

“I’m sorry, I’m
sorry, I just had to tell you. I couldn’t wait!”

“Tell me what?”
I yawned.

“He asked me.
He asked me again and I said yes!”

“Asked you
wha–
oh
.” Excitement was in there somewhere, beneath the slur
of sleep. “Congratulations, sweetie.”

She squealed
down the phone and I recoiled into my pillows.

“I know! I had
to thank you. That talk we had–it helped me see things in a
different light. Not that much has changed, but I feel like it
might, it’s exciting…oh my God. I’m getting married, Leila. And I
actually want to get married.” She paused, giggling. “Not just buy
something from Wang.”

“That’s
amazing, Elise.” I scraped a ball of mascara from the corner of my
eye. “Do you have a pretty ring?”

“We’re going to
pick one in London. He knew I’d want to choose. He knows me so
well.” Her voice dropped, husky. “You know what I mean.”

“Oh yes.” I
rubbed my still-sore buttocks with the heel of my hand. “So
listen…maybe I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? When you get in from the
flight.”

“God. I did
wake you up, didn’t I? I’m so sorry. I got carried away.” Now she
whispered, low and conspiratorial. It just feels like we’re sharing
this.”

“Not sure I’m
about to get engaged anytime soon.” Despite the thick duvet, I
shuddered.

“No, but our
men are best friends and all.”

“I’m glad we’ve
made friends too.” If I’d been talking to anyone else, I’d have
added,
even if you do call me in the middle of the bloody
night,
but I didn’t want to offend her Harvard
sensibilities.

“Me too.” I
could hear her smiling. “I’ll see you soon, okay? I can’t wait for
England!”

Chapter 9

Approximately
three and a half hours after Elise called, I met Aidan in the park
for a run.

“You look like
a Death Eater,” he chirped.

I yanked up the
hood on my jacket. “I sincerely hope you’re referring to my choice
of outerwear. Arse face.”

“Don’t look
bitter as well as hung over, Lei-Lei.”

I pouted.
“You’re awfully sharp with me since I crossed over to the dark
side.”

“You know how I
feel about the Marquis.” He tugged at my hand. “Come on. Three
circuits.”

“You’ll need to
be gentle with me to begin with.” I knelt to stretch my calves and
then began an experimental jog. “I’m nowhere near your level of
fitness.”

“Pah. I’ll tell
you what: either you keep up with me…” He stroked his chin. “Or you
have to do tomorrow’s round wearing a strap-on.”

“You wouldn’t!”
Already, I lagged a little. This was highly unfair.

“Do you want to
embarrass yourself in front of the students again?”

“No,” I said
meekly.

“Well, then.”
He nodded as I jogged ahead. “Dance for the fucking puppet master!
Dance!”

Aidan was
understanding in the bedroom, when I needed it. He was patient when
I cried on his shoulder. On the track, he was nothing but a
punishing dictator, and so my throat ached with each heaving breath
and my knees rattled with the impact of foot to ground. I bleated
like I was giving birth as I finished the last lap.

“See,” he said
triumphantly, “now you look awake.”

I smeared the
sweat off my upper lip. “Sod off.”

“Feisty too.
I’d totally do you.” He went to grab my hips and I limped out of
the way.

“You’re as pale
as me,” I said. “How do you manage not to turn a luminous shade of
beetroot?”

“I’m a man. I
go beetroot in other places.”

I rolled my
eyes. “There goes my sausage sandwich.”

* * * *

Lunch at the
office had become an awkward scenario.

In days of
yore, Poppy, Matt and I would all work on similar things and would
either order in together, or go out. Then as Matt and I were paired
up and we grew closer, we’d slink off for sushi or huddle over his
desk. Now, an invisible wall divided us–I had rejected Matt, who
had also once been rejected by Poppy, who had lost out to me.

We were hardly
about to rush off to the pub.

So as the clock
ticked toward one, I felt a familiar sense of dread sidle up and
wheeze over my shoulder. It always fell to me to suggest something,
yet all I wanted was an excuse to duck out and leave.

Eventually,
Poppy pulled a box of neat little sandwiches from her Smythson
tote. She stayed at her desk, muttering to herself and pausing to
brush crumbs from her pencil skirt. Matt and I exchanged glances
for about ten minutes before an email shot into my in-box like a
pebble dashing a puddle.

Shall we go
out? Need some air x

I gazed up at
him and he smiled faintly.

Where do you
fancy?
I replied.

Starbucks,
anywhere, don’t care. Just don’t make me walk too far!

We ended up in
a little French place, undoing all my hard running work with
sugared, lemony crepes. The table cloths were a clichéd red
gingham, lavender hung in dried bunches from the ceiling, and
language tapes played in the bathrooms. I made a mental note to
come back with Clemmie, who loved all things quaint and small.

“Are you going
to the ball tomorrow night?” I asked.

He folded a
crepe with his fork, and his brows fell in to follow. “I think we
have to, unfortunately. Cock parade and all that.”

“Not your
scene, hmm?” I scored lines in the froth of my cappuccino. Swish
swash. “To be honest, it isn’t really mine, either.”

“Are you going
with Joseph?”

Silence. I
found the bravery to nod.

“Thought you
might.” He cleared his throat. “Would it be wrong of me to bring
Tobe as my plus one?”

“Better than
Aidan.” I laughed. “Though I can’t see it being much of Toby’s
thing, either.” I paused, eyeing him. “You could ask Poppy.”

“I could wax my
balls too, but it’d be painful and utterly pointless.”

“She looks like
she could use some cheering up.”

“And I’m a
consolation prize?”

“That’s not
what I meant,” I said. “Are you looking forward to going home?”

“Yeah,
actually.” He set down his cutlery and his features softened a
little. “I feel a bit weird leaving Ike and Simmy, but it’s not
like they’re in trouble or anything. I just…I probably sound lame
but I
like
cobbled streets and the cathedral and people
shouting in Wurzel accents. Here, everything is so fucking hard–the
buildings, the driving, the sounds. Especially the people.” He
clicked his tongue. “They’re rude.”

“Since when
were you fussed for manners?”

“I miss my
friends.” The words made him flinch and I’m not sure he meant to
say them.

“And Niamh?” I
didn’t mean to ask about his ex, either. The one he’d spurned for
me.

“No. Does that
make me sound like a twat?”

“Of course
not.” I reached over and brushed his cuff; the bare flesh of his
hand seemed inappropriate. “I feel a bit responsible for all
that.”

“It was going
to happen. I’d be lying if I said you weren’t the catalyst…but
that’s no bad thing.” His lips twitched upward, cautious of a
smile.

How much more
honest had we been with each other these past few days? Nothing
held back behind shadowy pasts or gritted teeth. It felt good. We’d
been through the laundry, Matt and I, and though we were stained, a
freshness lingered.

But it wasn’t
the same for him. He loved me–he’d said it just a week before. From
behind my cappuccino cup, I watched as he fiddled with the
tablecloth and recognized the way his knuckles rose and fell; its
shiny folds stood in for the flesh he longed to fondle. Sometimes,
just for a minute, I wished the world was organized in a different
way, and men like him wouldn’t try to own girls like me at the
expense of…well. Too much.

“You’re a good
friend to me,” I said. “I should thank you.”

His brow
lurched again. “And there’s the consolation prize.”

“I can be mean
if it makes things easier.” I prodded him with my fork. “See?
Grr.”

He caught my
hand and pushed it away gently. “If I let things go sour between
us, it’d be because I wanted to torture myself. Like you said.”

Well, this was
embarrassing. “Is it working? Are you…happier?”

“Yeah. I am.”
He glanced up, and there was the rock star he’d once shown me. The
jut of his lower lip like armour, flying up before he took centre
stage. “I’m fucking chipper. Can’t you tell?”

* * * *

That evening, I
waited for the shrieks and frowns and briefcases to leave the
office before I slipped through Joseph’s door.

“I have a
complaint to make, Mr Merchant.”

He got to his
feet and beckoned me with a finger. “Miss Vaughn?”

“You haven’t
fucked me in your office yet.” Breath caught sharp in my throat as
he locked an arm around my waist.

“I haven’t,
have I?”

His finger
toyed with my bottom lip. Then his teeth followed.

“It won’t do.”
The carnivore in me kissed him first, mewed at the earthy taste of
flesh. “In fact, I think it’s against company policy.”

“Section seven,
clause B: all eligible females must be bent across the desk and
stretched like bread dough.” He laughed. “Actually…scrap the
eligible bit.”

“Sounds messy.
You’ll be needing a few more paperweights.”

He turned and
brought the glass dragon back in his hand. Barely weeks ago, I’d
sat on the desk to tease him, and he’d kneaded the weight in his
fist while my skirt rode up my thighs. If I’d been braver, he’d
have done…it. I wished he had. That dragon was sculpted in heavy,
moan-inducing meanders.

“I’ve been
thinking,” he murmured, “that this would make some pretty marks
along that arse of yours.”

“Pretty sure
you promised to fuck me with it too, and you haven’t done that yet,
either.”

He dropped the
paperweight on the carpet and hauled me up to kiss him again,
almost straddling me over his hips. His cock sat weightily between
my thighs.

“Unfortunately,
we need to leave for the airport.”

I pouted.
“That’s not unfortunate. It’s just plain unfair.”

“This Saturday,
my calendar is utterly clear.” He hoisted me over his hips once
more and I slid back down. This time, his cock was warmer. Harder.
“I’m going to give you what you deserve.”

“I promised to
visit my parents.” I sighed. “You’ll have to do something manly and
successful instead.”

He eyed me in
amusement. “I’ll break out Twister and the Sylvanians. Now.”

There was a
swish of air before the sting of his spank. “Ah!”

“Let’s get out
to the car.” He patted his swollen crotch. “When I can walk,
anyway.”

When we pulled
up outside his apartment building, I wasn’t entirely surprised.
Joseph’s view of delayed gratification was similar to his view on
monogamy: nothing to be gained if it just made you miserable.

“I’ve got some
paperwork for Elise. Really ought to hand it over tonight.” He
opened the door of his Merc for me. “Coming up?”

“Won’t we be
late?” Another flat spank landed as I rose. “
Ow
.”

“Maybe.”

While he
rummaged around his office, I tidied his coffee table, which was
still as messy as it had been that weekend. The lounge door creaked
open and when he saw me bent over, the grin almost split his
face.

“Did you find
your files?” I asked.

He shook the
neat black folders in his hand. “I don’t know what you’re implying,
you madam. Wait–”