Call Me Brea

Once upon a time, this blonde beauty was known as Mabelle. Once upon a time, this young woman was known to be shy and naive, the perfect portrayal of innocence. This was a lie. Sometimes in order to protect something precious, secrets have to be made and lives changed; this is the case of Brea Devereaux; creating the Mabelle persona to protect their daughter, Mr. and Mrs. Devereaux were heads of a mob family in desperate need to protect their daughter and taking her out of the family business and pretending to be someone different was the only answer they had. She didn't like it, but Brea played her part perfectly. Just a little too perfectly, actually. No-one could have anticipated the mob princess to become entangled with, much less fall for, Ethan McQueen. Certainly not Brea, and her family was less than pleased. Enough so to force her to leave not only Ethan, but the person she had become behind. Both of whom she had begun to crave. Now that the family is yet again secure, it is time to reveal who she truly is. The girl who was viewed as innocent and naive is, in fact, jaded and scarred, moody yet oddly steady in the same chord, and unafraid to show aggression. There is just one small problem: her interest in remaining part of the family has rapidly begun to vanish. Nobody, especially her parents, likes that. So what happens when a mob princess tries to leave her family, only to reconnect with the one boy who truly slipped past her defences? Nothing good, that's for sure.

[breadevereaux]

Busy Day | Breathan

[breadevereaux]

Damn this man. Damn his ability to reduce her from the strong woman into someone weak, someone helpless. Someone ruled not by intellect or reason but passion and need, who could be begging, shivering, grinding against him if she wasn’t so lost in the way he made her feel, the way he commanded and took her so beautifully. So completely.

This wasn’t exactly right. There had been softness, sweetness, even humor in the way they’d had each other before. Facing each other, their hands soft or rough but never with the intention to simply take. If she were not so lost in passion, in the glorious build of pressure in her being, perhaps Brea may have wept for this loss. But she was not the sort to cry over a lost lover, even as he pounded into her ruthlessly, tormented with a pause that had her breaths catching in a gasp as he held himself within her, still and throbbing. A whimper, for he felt better than she remembered, hips grinding slowly until he stilled her again.

"Ohhh," she mewled, fingers curling against glass as his paced slowed to the most torturous way. A slow fill, heat flooding her, cold washing over, as passionate pleasure met every thrust and whimpers, soft cries of his name fell from helpless lips. "Oh god.. yes," Brea moaned and welcomed every inch of him, stubbornly holding out until she could not anymore. Breaths shaking, a slickness streaming down her thighs, she was trembling soon, too far gone and aching to think of reaching between her legs, stroking the pulsating bud to urge herself further gone. "Ethan.." Oh, it felt good to have his names on her lips, to plead like this again. "Please.. mnnn.. please more!"

[ethan-mcqueen-blog]

There was something intoxicating about her, about being trapped within her most intimate embrace and it was nothing to be confused with lust, though later he would convince himself the pleasure had taken it’s toll on him, tricked him into seeing more than what there was. All he knew was that he had never felt more liberated than when breaking all the rules imposed upon him by allowing this encounter to take place. In their own secret way, they were telling everyone to shove it; after all, they each could have turned the other down, yet here they were, moaning, groaning, lost in each other until their most primal instincts took over.

Lacking the care he once had for her, the brutal sways of his hips, the force with which he claimed the blonde suggested just the opposite. It was quite possible that they were experiencing rage sex. For what it was worth, Ethan did not seem to have any complaints and, given the whimper which spilled from her lips, Breanna did not either. The sound had triggered the clenching of his abdominal muscles, his grasp around her thighs now bruising and he pierced into her depths with jolting force as a form of retaliation.

With just enough caution as to not injure the leg in recovery, the young man settled her on both feet, insisted her palms remain pressed to the glass and her legs parts. Free hands quickly cupped her hips, using her own body for leverage as he pounded into her quite ruthlessly. A different kind of hunger took over as he watched her sex engulf his full length, now glistering with her arousal as he took her, time and time again. A guttural sound scratched at the back of her throat, palm colliding with her cheek. Fingers buried within her golden curls, tugging in a rather rough manner until her back was pressed to his front and his motions were brought to a halt. “Watch,” he grunted, hips moving slightly so the tip of his member brushed against the sensitive spot within her. His eyes remained fixed upon hers through the fainted reflection, lips brushing against her earlobe before it was caught between his teeth, hot breath spilling along the curve of her neck. “Feel.” And he repeated those same torturous, slow, grinding movements.

[breadevereaux]

Make no mistake, Brea knew she was being fucked. Ruthlessly, brutally, and completely fucked until she was blind and dumb. If this was punishment, she took it happily, would limp and be bruised without regret. She had once been addicted to his touch and now was so very much the same, craving for his hands to squeeze her breasts until she whimpered in protest, for his teeth to mark her skin. Anything, everything to make her feel this alive again. Whimpers, mewling cries of pleasure, Brea gave fully, took greedily.

There was no tenderness as there had been some time ago between them. This was not two young fools lost in the first tumblings of loving each other, but ex-lovers fucking away the anger and bitterness. Nails scratched the glass, the torturous climb to bliss driving her mad, and his next actions having spots dance in front of her eyes with a blissful cry from her lips. She pushed against him, ass bouncing with the force for their mutual thrusts that bordered on the painful, the strike of palm to her cheek urging a gasp.

Then she straightened, commanded by the sharp pull, and her hand reached back, tangled in his dark hair. She was panting now, watching helplessly as he tortured her, as her thighs began to tremble with coming release. Whimpering, panting breaths. Fingers tightening in his hair, lips parting for breaths and giving a low whine as heat and cold battled in her body. Her back arched when he reached that perfect spot, the one that had spots in front of her eyes, the darkened green orbs rolling back. “Uh-- unh.. E-Ethan.. I.. I’m so..” Desperate, begging, her hips rolled with his, stuttering, erratic, white noise sounding in her ears as she turned her head, caught his lips.

[breadevereaux]

Proposition | Breathan

[ethan-mcqueen-blog]

To say that Ethan was unamused by the girl’s sudden appearance would be an understatement. It had not been so long since their encounter in her office, but her files proved to be useful on his end. Perhaps it had all been for a good cause. No, he knew he had enjoyed the sex as much as she had. Perhaps more so, given how limited he was when it came to that particular department. 

Somewhat unwilling, he took the hint and, after waiting the appropriate time, found himself inside the booth of her choice. “Files checked out, yes the sex was satisfying, no I do not like New York, and yes did have eggs and bacon for breakfast,” he mumbled. “Now that the small talk is over, please ensure this foolish thing right here has a good reason to be happening. I would so hate to be putting my life on the line just for you to then tell me I’m here to study your most recent purchase at Victoria Secret.”  

[breadevereaux]

Smug, arrogant bastard. It was frustrating, to say the very least, when she knew her thoughts were more amused than not. Every bloody, pained, somewhat frantic part of her ached to hate him. Ached to be ready to let him go. Apparently she had loved him most passionately, and that was the most difficult thing to let go. Bastard.

Fair brows rose slightly, the swoop of bangs with her shorn hair nearly covering the right brow. "If you would shut up," she suggested in an icily unamused tone, "Then I we could both get away from each other faster." Always had to have the last word, didn't he? That itch was on the back of her neck and, if anything the recent events had told her, that meant she had to move quickly. "The file did check out, of course, but it was incomplete. The source that you're looking for, I found out who it was." A file was placed on the table, opened. The photo of her father stared up at Ethan. Beneath it, one of her bodyguards. "Not surprising, considering the family, but there you go."

[breadevereaux]

Busy Day | Breathan

[ethan-mcqueen-blog]

Perhaps if he had somehow encountered the girl sooner, prior to joining the Godfreys, before being shot, before Aida… all that had somehow played a part in turning the boy who he had once been - the one whom had once loved a girl named Mabelle - become the man who so despised Brea. If he had somehow found her before… but then fate seemed determined to place them on opposite sides of each battle.

Ethan had destroyed a part of himself in order to be whom he needed to be and get the job done. All ties were cut, all walls burned to the ground. The one person capable of somehow connecting with him was Eleanor. She had been the sibling he had thrived for but failed to be given. Everyone else was indifferent to him. Mabelle however… she was a window into his past and while he reminded himself it meant nothing but something within him stirred. Perhaps it was simply the lust.

The sounds emerging from within her caused his loins to tighten. As if being surrounded in her wetness, having her arousal stream along his thickened, hard length was not enough to do just that. Light as she was, Ethan had no trouble in bouncing her from his hips; the same hips which thrusted into her, with ardor, from behind. With each forceful thrust, their flesh smacked, the sound beckoning more of his groans. The pad of his thumb caressed the blonde’s pulse point before holding himself still within her, buried in completely, forcing the blonde to fully feel him throb against her walls. He hoped she would whimper, maybe plead. The fast pace was addicting; he could not envision her settling for no friction.

Lacking patience himself, both hands gripped each of her thighs, holding her in place as he withdrew from her wet heat. “Right now,” he replied slowly, groaning when only the tip of him remained surrounded by her “I want you. Just.” Hips surged forward abruptly, thrusting into her hard, savoring the clench of her muscles for a few moments before once against pulling himself from within her, at the same tortuously slow pace. “Like.” And again he shoved his cock into her core. “This.” And again. He did so repetitively, had no intention of denying her until her arousal streamed along her thighs, until she shivered and pleaded. Perhaps then he might show mercy.

[breadevereaux]

Damn this man. Damn his ability to reduce her from the strong woman into someone weak, someone helpless. Someone ruled not by intellect or reason but passion and need, who could be begging, shivering, grinding against him if she wasn't so lost in the way he made her feel, the way he commanded and took her so beautifully. So completely.

This wasn't exactly right. There had been softness, sweetness, even humor in the way they'd had each other before. Facing each other, their hands soft or rough but never with the intention to simply take. If she were not so lost in passion, in the glorious build of pressure in her being, perhaps Brea may have wept for this loss. But she was not the sort to cry over a lost lover, even as he pounded into her ruthlessly, tormented with a pause that had her breaths catching in a gasp as he held himself within her, still and throbbing. A whimper, for he felt better than she remembered, hips grinding slowly until he stilled her again.

"Ohhh," she mewled, fingers curling against glass as his paced slowed to the most torturous way. A slow fill, heat flooding her, cold washing over, as passionate pleasure met every thrust and whimpers, soft cries of his name fell from helpless lips. "Oh god.. yes," Brea moaned and welcomed every inch of him, stubbornly holding out until she could not anymore. Breaths shaking, a slickness streaming down her thighs, she was trembling soon, too far gone and aching to think of reaching between her legs, stroking the pulsating bud to urge herself further gone. "Ethan.." Oh, it felt good to have his names on her lips, to plead like this again. "Please.. mnnn.. please more!"

[lindsevmorgans]

i know its hard to remember the people we used to be its even harder to picture that you’re not here next to me you say its too late to make it but is it too late to try and in the time that you wasted all or our bridges burnt down im wasting my nights you turned out the lights now i’m paralyzed still stuck in the time when we called it love but even the sun sets in paradise

[ptieuca]

You’re the best, and yes, I do regret How I could let myself let you go.

[ptieuca]

[ptieuca]

[breadevereaux]

What a wicked game you played to make me feel this way What a wicked thing to do to let me dream of you.

[faithlehne]

[breadevereaux]

Proposition | Breathan

Brea was hardly in a good mood and less-than-willing to play games with a certain arrogant man. Even when her heart clutched at the sight of him, as she lurked, partially hidden in the shadows, she waited for him to notice her. Hiked up a brow, nodded to a booth and just barely inched a file from her bag, and moved to sit down.

She was limping again and, despite the hot weather, wore a leather jacket to be paired with her sundress.

[breadevereaux]

Busy Day | Breathan

[ethan-mcqueen-blog]

The path which had lead him to where he currently stood was, in many ways, a path Ethan had chosen. He could have turned down Godfrey's deal, however the alternative was hardly a much better one. Condemning his parents to a life of poverty when they had always provided him with wealth was impossible for Ethan to embrace. He did whatever was necessary to return the favor, though he was certain, if they knew, they would have told him money was unimportant if it cost him his safety. So Ethan kept most details to himself, merely informing the people who had brought him to this world and loved him to the best of their abilities that he was currently employed and that his boss demanded many hours, yet paid well. They accepted the information without further questioning. Much to his relief.

Mabelle had been, before, a bonus. He had not enrolled into Radcliffe expecting to find love, but when he did, he was all too eager to dive in head first only to have his heart mercilessly shattered. As a result, the young man grew a thicker skin, turned into a man his younger self was unlikely to recognize. He did not blame Mabelle, seen as doing so would give her credit. As far as he was concerned, the blonde vixen was a means to an end. As soon as they were done with this particular case, he would off on his way. But it had been oh so long since he had last found himself in a position where he might actually seduce someone, push them to the verge of begging. It was preferable to the whores he called, always so willing, but who never quite did it for him.

Lips curled at his words, pride filling his chest now that he knew she hadn’t forgotten how he was when they were alone. Ethan had always been considered dominant in bed. Even prior to becoming who he currently was. It wasn’t so much the control, the power, it was the ability to make someone cum over and over again, to know he could make them feel good without much effort. Making the women he slept with shiver in pleasure and curse and cry out for God somehow had the ability to get him off.

With the information he wanted to hear and her plea, Ethan merely took a moment to remove his own shirt. He was bare while she remain with nothing but her skirt on. Cupping her rear with both hands, he pressed lips to the nape of her neck, sucking roughly before seizing the back of her thighs, bending her knees and thrusting into her with force. Her walls embraced his turgid member tightly, making him bite her shoulder while reminiscing on the feel of her confined sex. “Watch,” he demanded, hand creeping along her font and seizing her neck until Mabelle’s gaze met his through the reflection, only allowing his grasp to return to the back of her knee when he was convinced she was watching him ease into her repeatedly. Drenched in her arousal, it was all too easy for Ethan to pump in and out of her core, his hands lifting and dropping Mabelle on his cock, only lifting her against when he was in balls deep.

[breadevereaux]

This was her life. To barter deals, to create and break alliances as so suiting to the family. The Devereaux's of French ancestry, of very old power, and cruel with it. But was this to be her curse? Was this to be her life forever or until her emotions might grasp at her abilities and end lives too soon, incorrectly? No. To all questions, the answer was no. The contact, the current mission, neither would save her from this, were means of distracting her from the overall goal she possessed.

In time, through cleverness and a bit of the dreaded luck, she might free herself and still keep her life. Hopefully. That was, to say the least, the goal, but one hard-earned. Contacts renewed, gained, destroyed. Her wit keeping her alive, and an independence few associated with the blonde. A ruthlessness few realized existed beneath the pretty surface. Eventually, she would be free. Now all that mattered was keeping Ethan at bay from this very desire. A plan to form when her body wasn't being taken, teased, driven to the brink and back.

Keening moans fell from her lips, breathless pleas and she was unashamed. Not of wanting him, of being so incredibly desperate, nor of being bared before a window. She remembered, and oh how many times she had tried to find someone who could have her this completely, what it was to be had by him, had nearly been driven to the point of obsession before her life became insane over the past weeks. Soft curses, a sharp gasp and whimper when he shoved into her, bouncing her deliciously so, and continuing his commands.

She was told to watch and Brea did just that. Though she had watched him bite her and the palms pressed to the glass had clenched with it, Brea obeyed without question and moaned at the reflective sight before her. She looked.. wild. "Fuck.. fuck yes," Brea gasped. Maddened by lust and eagerly she met his thrusts, falling on him, grinding, doing everything in her power to give him pleasure and herself as well. Her throat gripped and her walls squeezed his shaft tightly. Yes, she gloried in her mind and stretched her torso, whimpering. "Tell me how you want me," she begged, panting for breaths. "Don't.. unh.. don't stop, please!"

[breadevereaux]

Busy Day | Breathan

[ethan-mcqueen-blog]

A man stripped of all things that had once made him who he was. His parents were obliged to leave the country they called home due to the loss of their large fortune. Ethan had to give up every luxury but that of the school he attended. At the time, remaining behind when his family was an ocean away had been hard, yet meeting Mabelle had allowed him to push through it, only for her too to vanish from his life. Gradually, he lost anything that meant something to him. Except Eleanor. Similar to the love one would have for a sister, Ethan placed the brunette above any and everything. Including himself. Which was saying quite something considering how selfish he had become over the last handful of months.

It was to ensure that same brunette’s safety that he had come to the States, therefore stumbling across the blonde who had ruined him. But his pride forbade Ethan of admitting as much. He refused to believe she had any grasp on his emotions. He would argue he no longer loved nor hated her, that he was indifferent. Lust… lust meant nothing. Men could get boners over literally anything. That was what he would tell her if she dared try to corner him, manipulate him. But God, he had forgotten the thrill that came with being here. Even just foreplay.

"You know I can very well make you cum like this." And, as if to prove a point, his pace quickened, thumb caressing her sensitive nub once. Regardless, it was enough to make her muscles clamp around his fingers. "And I believe you’d much rather fall apart with me inside you." Teeth bit the top of her ear lightly, mostly with the intent of her hearing the groan bubbling at the back of his throat. "I could be stretching you, in so deep your eyes roll to the back of your head, filling you just the way you like… Or I could deny you that. Make you settle for my fingers." For someone so incredibly lust driven, Ethan thought himself to deserve a pat on the back for how steady he could make himself sound when he was so hard and heavy for her.

"Am I going to find what I want in those files, Mabelle?" His fingers were removed from within her, coated in her arousal while trailing along her slit, occasionally reaching for her clit. The pleasure he had induced earlier would have slackened but he was sure to not deprive her completely. Just enough to push her to where he wanted her, so she would give him what he wanted. "Is that paper trail going to take me to them?"

[breadevereaux]

Parentage made the child, nature the person, life the cruel bastard or heartless bitch. Brea knew this, cared little for its truth if fact and benefit did not come into play. That was her life, based on what would help her survive and the facts that were its foundation. The fact was, her father was a heartless son of a bitch with a talent for business and taste for bloodshed, which made him a formidable head of the family. The fact was, he had enemies and they knew of her existence. She had gone into hiding, created a persona with it, and fallen for a boy who had been good and turned into someone equally heartless by facts as well.

She had no-one to trust, no-one to endear close to her. Even her father had begun to look at her more as an expense than benefit or blood. If her abilities to gather information, to gain allies for her own benefit were not helpful to the family, surely she would be dead. But one more fact remained and it was between the man who surely wished she were dead and the woman who felt dead inside unless under his touch. It was just lust, the remembering of his fucked up games that were making her whimper and hate him, to moan and arch and want him. Beneath, did she not hate him for making her weak?

But God she loved that he could. She loved knowing that he could fuck her sore and begging for rest and she would never feel that good again until he came to her, came inside her again. Soft cries fell from her lips, her brows drawing together as her hips moved frantically with his touch. Tiny mewls, for she was already so close, stroking his shaft to the best of her abilities. "I want you to," she moaned, breaths far from steady. "I want you to tell me when I can come, I want you to do everything you want to me and know I will do everything, anything you wa- want," Brea stammered, whining when he slid his fingers out.

Her tongue flicked out, wet her dry lips and she gave a breathless curse. Damn him. Hating that he slowed down, loving it as well, she trembled with every touch to her clit, knowing he could give her more. "God, yes. Tells.. tells you everything about.. about them." She could barely breathe for wanting him inside her and trailed her thumb at the rim of his hard cock. "Paper trail is small, but can be followed. File to be built on with, um.. with more contact with associates in file." She turned her head, kissed his jaw, licked the spot lightly. "Please, Ethan."

[breadevereaux]

Busy Day | Breathan

[ethan-mcqueen-blog]

It was only once things began to escalate between them that the young man was reminded of why he had once been so addicted to her, to being with her rather than someone more experienced. He didn’t want experience. He wanted submission that could easily turn into dominance when he desired such. He wanted someone who knew their ass from their elbow but whom he could still surprise and take their breath away. Ethan McQueen, arrogant and spoiled as he was, took great pleasure in pleasing others. Physically as well. Even when he claimed to hate Mabelle, he seemed drawn to her.

His name sounded nothing short of bliss when she blurted it out, voice hoarse with lust. Her eagerness to do as he asked was something else he had missed, enjoyed far more than was likely to be healthy. When the blonde reached out to touch him, Ethan allowed such, savored the feel of himself wrapped around in her small hand while his own fingers curled within her, searching and soon after finding that sweet spot deep within her that caused her to clench and drip around him. “Always so wanting, Mabelle,” he teased lightly, tongue tracing her pulse point and teeth screaming sensitive flesh.

Larger hands reached for hers, guided her to her breasts and his gaze met hers through the reflection. “Keep touching yourself.” There hardly seemed to be doubt that she was allowed otherwise, but the once millionaire kept green eyes fixed on the reflection of hers, ensuring Brea - as she called herself - kept doing as he had demanded while he unbuckled his belt, undid and rid himself of his pants.

Seizing her her wrists with his, he then pressed her palms to the glass until she was slightly bent, his palms caressing her bare rear. “I think you should give me a preview, Mabelle, of what it is I’m going to find in that file.” Maybe he was aiming to detect a lie, maybe this was just a thrill for him. Two of his digits sunk into her sex, were surrounded by her dripping walls, easing into her. Thrusting first at a slow pace - too slow -, Ethan then twirled his fingers. His lips brushed against her shoulder blade, but the smirk on his face indicated that the gentle gestures were only a display of his patience and how long he could make her bear this torture without actually granting her that which she truly wanted.

[breadevereaux]

This was not spending sleepy morning hours teasing sighs from her lips, a smile from his with soft touches. This was not two lovers coming together for the first surrender to passion. Perhaps the girl so swiftly and brutally forced into womanhood some time ago had enjoyed that. But those times were gone and she could not get them back. So this, the brutal taking and having, the urging of choked cries of stunned bliss from her by his skilled hands, this was utterly perfect. She did not want gentle. She wanted Ethan. No lover she had had after him could even compare. Likely, the arrogant bastard knew this.

Her hand paused, squeezed gently as molten blue eyes opened in shock, a throbbing moan falling from her yet again as he curled just right. By instinct, by pure wanting, she arched and continued to stroke his shaft, suddenly aching to feel his flesh, to give him this same pleasure. "Y-Yes," she stammered, mindlessly rolling her hips and trembling as she remained impaled by his fingers. "Jesus, Ethan.. I.." Another shift of her hips and she whined, clenching around his fingers tightly.

Then she was empty, aching for him, trembling for more of what he could do to her. And oh, how aware of his talents she was. Trembling breaths refused to allow passable words and perhaps that was for the best. It would be easy--hah! More like impossible--to deny him, to stagger away, but those damned eyes of his caught hers with the demand. Just as she liked, Brea massaged her breasts. Just a little rough, imaging his hands on her, tweaking her nipples, the heat of his body so close that instinctively she arched toward him.

Sudden movements and she gasped, gripped the glass as best she could. She could see the streets below, the apartments across the way. If they saw her getting fucked mindless, so be it. The idea of an audience was thrilling, anyway. But for now, all she could do was groan as he insisted on this torment, nails gently scraping glass as he thrust into her heat. Harder, faster, that's what she wanted. Not to fucking ta- Ohh.. "Lo--there, yes!" she hissed and had to fight the build of pressure in her stomach, needing this to last longer. "--locations of.. um.. of target. C-Common places. Mm.." Her head lifted and hips met his thrusts, reaching behind her to gently grasp his shaft, moaning as she stroked him into full hardness. "Ethan, I- I need you!"

[breadevereaux]

Busy Day | Breathan

[ethan-mcqueen-blog]

He smirked at her words, watched the folder now resting on the table. “I believe I’ve already shown how far I’m willing to go for those.” His fingers probably still carried her scent. In a matter of seconds he had found himself behind her, his front pressed to her back, grinding against her luscious behind as his hand crawled between her thighs. “I have more to gain than I do to lose with this arrangement,” he whispered into her ear, teeth biting the shell of her ear roughly with the intent to make her whimper as his fingers glided along her sex, over thin fabric. 

With ease, Mabelle was shifted in his grasp, lips claiming her with one purpose: to bruise and feed, take as he pleased knowing that somehow she’d find pleasure in this. 

Ethan lifted her just as easily only to set her down before one of the large windows beside her desk, turning her one again and pressing her palms to the glass. Hands seized her blouse, ripped it open causing the buttons to fall to ground while his lips trailed along her neck. “Take it off,” he growled, hands climbing her legs and ripping her underwear with a light grunt before fingers pushed into her wet heat. He’d allow the skirt to remain, he decided, hands pushing into the blonde’s bra cups, seizing her breasts and massaging as he bit the base of her neck.

[breadevereaux]

As always, by his talent and damnable skill she wished to hell and to never end, Ethan overwhelmed her. Few could make her helplessly sigh and lifted a hand behind her, lightly gripping the back of his neck as he tormented her rear, sending the most delightful shivers throughout her blood with those wicked hips grinding. Teeth to her ear promised a whimper to life, a helpless moan softly tumbling from lips as she obediently answered every movement of his hips and stroke of clever fingers. But of course he was nowhere near finished with his torment.

Feeding on his kiss, lashes fluttering and tiny mewls of pleasure sounding with every new bruise to her lips and skin, Brea gave in completely. Allowed every kiss, every punishing touch, and even the hope for more, for all he would dare punish her with. Even pleading was a possibility.

Nails just barely scratched the glass and a stunned, pleased cry answered every rip of her clothing, hot breaths, a molten system promised trembling fingers. Christ, he needed him. This was far past wanting or desire, but blatant, utterly submissive need. "Yes. Okay," she panted, hurriedly shrugging out of torn material and pausing, letting torn cloth drop with the part of her lips, crying out in stunned pleasure as he thrust into her. "Ethan!" she whimpered, arching her back to push aching breasts into his hands, hips rolling in desperate need of purchase. Shaking fingers reached behind and removed the clasp to her bra, let the undergarment fall and lustful yes opened, watching in the glass's reflection as she slid a hand between them, stroked his member through his pants, recalling how he liked it. A turn of her head, catching his lips, trying so desperately to remain patient when she knew, oh how well she knew, the wait was worthwhile.

[breadevereaux]

Busy Day | Breathan

[ethan-mcqueen-blog]

Eyes met hers, the urge to free himself from her grasp pushed back in favor of allowing her to be convinced on her own account. Little or large amounts of information… it wasn’t relevant the amount. Not truly. So long as he did not return empty handed as ever other man before him had.

"I wouldn’t waste much more time lingering," he advised. "The sooner you hand me said file, the sooner I can shift and direct my attention to far more pressing manners." His lips curled, knowing that any other man would have fucked her now, demanded the papers later, but Ethan was nothing if not cunning. He demanded things first before giving anyone anything. Even if the anyone at question was Mabelle. Or Brea. Whichever fucking name she preferred to be called.

[breadevereaux]

Distrust lingered. How could she know this man, someone she had once trusted and now could not, would remain true to his promise? After all, he showed only hints of the boy she had so deeply loved.. Hell with it. The files were already backed up on her computer and the information was hardly complete on both settings. She was being used and discarded, wasn't she? It was better than nothing.

Stepping away, Brea retrieved the file from the safe that would forever be empty now. Eyes dared to meet his. He was used to the submissive Mabelle, the one who trembled with his very touch. In a way, that had been part of her overwhelmed by his presence, her wanting him, the way she had wanted no other before. A simple movement and the file dropped to the coffee table that had suffered the weight of his feet minutes ago. "Earn it," she suggested.

[breadevereaux]

Busy Day | Breathan

[ethan-mcqueen-blog]

Something caused his eyes to darken before he pulled his face further apart from hers, freeing his bottom lip from her teeth. “I think you’ve forgotten how to play this game.” His voice was uncommonly steady, the lust barely detectable and, despite her refusal to grant him what he requested, if the sway of her grinding hips was anything to go on, Ethan was quite certain he knew the response to any questions he may have had.

Glistering fingers were held up, the blonde’s arousal coating his digits and, stubbornly holding her gaze, he sealed his lips over his fingertips, sucked them clean before breaking the spell completely and stepping away from her. “I can find others who know how to play it better. You’ve lost some of your best qualities,” he reprimanded with a smirk on his face. “Pity. I used to find it quite… arousing. Your submission. Perhaps you can find others to play with. I just wouldn’t expect them to meet the high standards I may have caused you to establish.”

Eyes roamed the room, detecting his jacket, one last smirk thrown over his shoulder. “Good luck in your quite boring, job orientated job, Mabelle.” 

[breadevereaux]

Anger burned like passion, the wanting, needing of him. Close, she was so close to her torment of aching constantly for the bliss only he could give her, and he would dare to walk away, dare to demand that she yet again be what she had been with him. Weak. Submissive. A fool.

Yet there was no other that she would be as such with and her hand gripped his arm. "Wait," she whispered and cleared her throat, spoke in a forcibly steady voice, one that was tight. "There.. there isn't much information I have to give you." She felt weak. Ashamed of it. Ashamed of wanting him. "But the file is in a safe."

[breadevereaux]

Busy Day | Breathan

[ethan-mcqueen-blog]

The accusation she whispered was still heard, received with nothing but arrogance in his smirk and in his eyes; his full demeanor probably. Ethan was a man who thrived when he crawled beneath his rival’s skin. Of course, this particular case was a messy one, one that had to be proceeded with caution. But he was smug nonetheless, satisfied with his small accomplishment.

Such a feeling did not last. He could hear her lies even when her body refused to give her away. She was a better liar when it came to business than she was at concealing her need for him, the ache he was sure she still felt between her thighs every time she saw him, remembered what it was like to have him there and then reminisce on the void he left behind. It was no lie that he had slept with others. Aida came to mind, but she was just a girl willing to fuck him and he was just someone seeking an escape. He missed submission as the one Mabelle- Brea had in times offered. Aida was feisty but too much of that turned him off.

"Pity," he commented with a voice lacking any kind of emotion. "I would have paid well for that." A topic for later or for his superiors. He turned to face the blonde; simply stood there for what felt like a lifetime, watching her, studying her and then he approached her with caution, allowed his intense gaze to lower towards her feature and then claimed her lips in one feverish kiss, hand burying and tugging her blond locks as his mouth devoured hers, breaking free from the kiss all too soon.

Lips hovered over her, eyes locked with her gaze and his hand crept beneath her skirt before she was given time to process what was occurring. His fingertips grazed over the thin fabric over her damp underwear, corner of his mouth tugging upwards once reassured that she craved him as much as he had anticipated. Ethan slipped his hand within her underwear, cupped her sex as his lips hovered over her ear. “Tell me how much you’ve missed this,” he demanded, his digits now caressed her drenched slit, tracing her entrance. “Tell me how many fantasies you’ve had of me, how many times you’ve touched yourself thinking of me, of all the times I fucked your brains out and reduced you to a sobbing mess.” The daughter of a powerful man, he knew Mabelle had enjoyed every moment she had shared with him when she caved into his dominating nature. His finger eased into her and then out, circled her clit once and then glided along her slit again. “Maybe if you do I’ll ease some of your aches away.” Maybe.

[breadevereaux]

This was his game? Making her want him, her eyes to wander every broad line and strong muscle of his frame, mouth to water as she remembered his kiss. To torment her as memories had for months, nearly haunting her in his own twisted, terrible way.

Well, it was working, the bloody bastard. Her blood heated and pulsed with greed met when his lips crashed upon hers and she moaned under the fever of his kiss. Fingers dug into his shoulder, the free hand reaching behind her, gripping the back of the nearby chair. Helpless in a moment, powerful in the one before.

Bastard!

Teeth caught her bottom lip, a stubborn nature mixing with pride and warring need when digits thrust into her. Yes! God, yes! She had dreamed of this, found her mind wandering to this fantasy of this mind-numbing bliss. A throaty moan barely suppressed just by her pride, lustful eyes meeting his before teeth tugged his bottom lip. "No," she rasped and yet whimpered as her hips instinctively moved restlessly, seeking purchase and more of this torment.

[breadevereaux]

Busy Day | Breathan

[ethan-mcqueen-blog]

He lacked fear. At times, this was a virtue, at other a terrible flaw. Either way, it was usueless scolding or praising the young man for this, seen as he would most likely be quick to dust it off and resume acting the way he always had. Today was no different. He needed some information but, most importantly, he needed to wrap this affair up, give himself some closure over a relationship that was doomed from the get go.

Ethan made himself at home, glances at the long windows and admired the scenery. Not bad, but then given her position it was only natural she should earn herself an office at one of the highest floors. Some buildings matched in height, others surpassed… Ethan was certain he could detect a few neighbors across the street, preparing their dinners. How late was it? Perhaps he should have come earlier. Regardless, he accepted her drink, brought it to his lips instantly, if only to keep the edge off. “You haven’t told me how it’s doing. No more pain, I take it.” At least he noticed the lack of discomfort at her end. Unless one was to take into account her discomfort at being within his presence once again.

"I have many plans, but none you need to concern yourself with nor are they directly linked to your beloved family." Bitterness; there was a hint of it in his voice before he washed it down with bourbon and rose to his feet, towering over the blonde, corner of his mouth tugging upwards. "Maybe I came here for something else," he mused. "Something you want." He leaned forward, tricked her into thinking he might kiss her only to brush his lips to the shell of her ear. "Tip from the wise, do not clench your thighs when the skirt you’re wearing is so tight. It gives away that which you want." And they both knew making their desires known was unwise so early into the game.

Withdrawing from her, distance was placed between them and he stood near the full on glass, watched the cars below and the darkening sky above. “I came due to the Smiths case. You have information on them which I need. And then I will be out of your hair.” And her life.

[breadevereaux]

She was without empathy. Perhaps this was born from privilege to someone else's belief, but truly, it was a survival technique. Nobody in her family was allowed to be weak. Not even her. Frankly? She had a terrible fear of dying, so it was necessary. Apparently few seemed to understand this; so be it, she did not like explaining herself.

Her office was a very nice one, doubling as a hotel suite. If she were a social sort, perhaps a lover or two would have joined her now and then. If she had time, definitely. Now? Not so much; not with the other families causing issues, not with Ethan lurking about and smelling just perfect. It was tempting to watching the others outside and in their homes milling about. Always detached, never really a part of society. That was her-- "Hm?" Caught in not paying attention to anything but her thoughts, Brea absently touched where the scar was. "No, there is no pain. Just an absent ache." Apt conversation, though she left the double meaning to herself.

Now, what was that? Her brow rose faintly over cool eyes, having caught that hint quickly covered by booze. "As do I, none of which concern an old affair, nor his employers." So he was still distraught over their little affair? Or perhaps just her actions. The latter would make the most sense. A man of his.. skill surely had lovers to pre-occupy his time from her effect on him. Not that she was eager to think of him buried in some lesser girl when he'd had her so thoroughly. Despising herself for so easily thinking about and wanting him, Brea blinked as he leaned over her, abruptly in the submissive position and staring up at him with wide, wanting eyes. God, she could just reach out and- "Bastard," she whispered. Was he actually trying to seduce her?

Trying and succeeding. Pulse pounding a little faster, Brea swallowed her drink without a wince or hiss, watching him move to the glass. Yes, her thighs were slightly clenched. Yes, she wanted him. Yet she stood defiantly, leaned against the back of the chair and lifted a shoulder. "As eager as I am for that, I have no information to share with you, Ethan. Nor any cause to share, even if I had any." Lies but spoken with eyes clear of most but a subtle lust.