Free Breaking Joseph by Lucy V. Morgan

stirred against my belly.
    “Hmm.”
    “See, this…this
is my recreational drug.”
    “Not an
addiction?”
    “Says the girl
who does it vocationally,” he teased. “Are you addicted,
Leila?”
    “To the act, or
to you?” The words came before I thought about them, and I looked
away with embarrassment.
    “Either.”
    “Fuck me
again,” I murmured into his wet skin, “for research purposes.”
    “See, this is
what I like about you. You’re a worthy opponent, even if your
rhetoric is awful.”
    “Sod off.”
    “Your language
is foul too, but I’ll forgive you because I’m about to make you
desperately sore.” He started to peel my wet stockings off, fingers
scratching through the weak thread.
    “Please.”
    “You’re meant
to be refusing me,” he complained. “Did you forget that?”
    “No. But I’d be
lying, and one doesn’t lie in court.”
    “What does one
do there, then, exactly?”
    “I believe you
said it best with fucking them backward with a kebab
skewer .” I giggled.
    “Did I really
say that in a meeting?”
    “Yep. You were
being particularly scary that day.” I bit his bottom lip and
watched as my teeth slid away. “Bad wolf.”
    He eased me
back, and foamy gushes of water hit my lap as he sat up on the tub
side. I put a hot cheek on his knee.
    “You never
answered my question,” he said.
    “Which
one?”
    “About being
addicted.” He filled his fist with my hair, scrunching. “Are
you?”
    “A little bit,
maybe.”
    “To me, or the
act?”
    More truths
swarmed on my tongue. “The act. But I think you…you have a rather
strong hand in that.”
    He pulled my
hair now, forced me to look him in the eye. “For fuck’s sake. Do I
have to spell it out for you?”
    “No…but I’m not
sure I’m ready to hear it.”
    “Fine.”
    He shoved my
head into his lap and I went about the business of sucking him. I
shouldn’t have tried to get under his skin–hell, he used a knife,
but I wouldn’t let him beneath mine. Or so he thought.
    I looked up at
him with a mouthful of warm flesh, and he gazed back with a
mouthful of difficult words. Both would explode soon…but I didn’t
know which would be messier.

 
    Chapter 4

    Once, I felt
like a house of cards.
    I’d waited for
someone to blow me away. Whether that meant to impress or
deconstruct me, I hadn’t a clue…but I never imagined I’d get both
at the same time.
    It was the
carnivorous green eyes that caught me, the thick fingers that
pinned me down and the edge of his serrated knife that cut me open
and took me apart. Now, he wanted to build something with those
neat, square hands. With words that neither of us wanted to
say.
    And what of the
remains left spluttering from the demolition, the pieces of myself
I’d given to Matt the perfect life in coupledom that I’d thrown to
the wolves? He still nurtured them, mourned the corpse. He clung to
the life like a ghost made for haunting. I’d built that, though I
never meant to.
    If anyone was
going to put me back together, it ought to be me. I wouldn’t be
made in God’s image or grown from someone’s rib. In order to
invent, one needs a purpose, but I didn’t know how to define that
or even what mine was.
    What I did know
was that in one job’s time, I’d no longer be the whore. No more
pretense. No more bank notes to function as excuses.
    Time to put our
cards on the table, then. Time to decide if we’d play for
keeps.
    * * * *
    “Well?” said
Mum, her voice squeaky over the line.
    I ducked into a
corner of the lobby and stuck a finger in one ear. “We got the
contract!” I bounced around on my ankle boots. “We’re going out to
celebrate later.”
    “Oh, that’s
fantastic, darling.” A pause–she relayed the news to Dad, who said
something obscene and congratulatory. “So what does this mean?”
    “It means a lot
of money for the firm and hopefully, a secure job for me. And a
happy boss,” I added.
    Joseph watched
me from one of the sofas in the