Illustration Credit: emilythesmelly on DeviantArt

Chapter 19: The Agreement

Joan found herself in a good mood when she returned to the suite with Seto. The quiet presence of Tamara and Roland had grown on her, making her feel invincible. Tamara, however, headed home for the night as soon as Joan was safely inside the suite.

Joan's phone buzzed the second after she set down her purse. She slid the phone out and saw Marc's name atop the message. Have you forgotten our agreement?

What agreement? Joan texted back.

Marc replied instantly.

Joan mentally kicked herself for forgetting and passed the phone to Seto. "I don't suppose there's any chance you would . . ." Joan trailed off.

Seto replied from Joan's phone, tossed it to Roland, and pulled her into the bedroom. He sat her down on the edge of the bed and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I realized something today."

Joan looked into Seto's eyes and saw pure sincerity. He was about to unleash the big L-word, wasn't he? The one from the headline. Panic struck her. She sensed he was about to go "cowboy" on her too, demanding that she drop her other men. She'd been down this road before. At least the other Michael hadn't tried to pull this crap on her. It had been a fun ride, but it was over now. At least she still might be able to salvage her day job. Maybe she could still milk this escort job a little longer, delay his confession for one more night. "Seto, I know. You don't need to say—"

He kissed her to shut her up, leaving paralyzing flashes of white light oscillating up and down her spine. Joan struggled to understand his next words. "I realized that I should have been on that team with Mokuba and Marc. Devlin was dead weight. I only let Devlin play because I wanted Roland watching out for us. You," Seto kissed her forehead, "could have done the announcing."

Joan spoke through lips that were still numb. "I'm flattered, but I just learned how to play last week."

A tinge of annoyance colored Seto's next words. "My point is that this world is full of knuckleheads like Devlin. When they try to claim a piece of you, it irks me to no end. Marc, on the other hand, has proven his competency countless times. And Mokuba," Seto's eyes gleamed, "has saved face for me more times than I care to admit."

Fuck, Joan thought. This isn't his L-word; this is mine.

"I don't know anything about your Michael other than his name, but since he's somehow managed to win your loyalty, for now I'll consider him on our side rather than the enemy."

"This . . . you're . . ." Joan's ability to put thoughts into coherent sentences vanished.

Marc walked in and closed the bedroom door behind himself. "Is this little slut giving you trouble?"

"You have no idea," Seto replied with a playful smirk.

Astounded, Joan looked from one man to the other. Seto hadn't dismissed Marc with that text but invited him here with the full understanding of their agreement. Only one word formed on Joan's lips: the only word she needed in this scenario. "Green!" Joan hollered as she jerked away from Seto. She perched in the middle of the bed as Marc circled her, forming his plan of attack.

Seto took off his trench coat and laid it aside. His skin-tight black turtleneck showcased his impressive masculine form.

Marc slid off his T-shirt and flexed even more powerful muscles. Words rippled from his curling lips. "Rumor has it, little slut, that it takes more than one man to tame you."

"Once we're done with you, you'll be begging for me to put my cock in any hole I please," Seto taunted.

"Green," Joan said once more.

Marc lunged and caught Joan's ankle as she tried to scramble off the edge of the bed. He pulled her easily back to the center. He caught her other flailing leg and looked up at Seto. "Don't make me do all the work now."

Seto managed to secure Joan's arms, using his knees to pin down her hands while he slid his hands over her cleavage and into her bra. He'd wanted to do this from the moment he'd met her, to humiliate her in front of her boyfriend for tempting him with her brazen display of skin. However, now he knew her well enough to know that she welcomed the contact. "This is for your own good, whore."

Joan turned her eyes away from the men, but her hardening nipples betrayed her. She writhed under their weight, trying to break free. "Just wait until my husband finds out about this."

"Why wait?" Marc straddled Joan and pulled his phone out of his jeans. He snapped a photo of her helpless, pinned under Seto's lanky limbs. "Hey Siri, text Michael. Your slutty wife is finally getting what she deserves."

Marc sent the message, set the phone aside, gripped the edges of Joan's collar, and tore. The fabric cleaved, exposing a skimpy black bra that barely contained her bountiful breasts.

Marc's phone rang and he paused, picking it up and putting Michael on speaker. "Dude, tell me you're shitting me right now. I swear, if I have to—"

"Green!" Joan interrupted.

"All right, all right. Carry on," Michael said.

"We will be holding your wife hostage until you deliver us the greatest of all treasures: green tea Kit Kat candies," Marc added.

Joan burst out laughing and heard a peal of feminine laughter from Michael's end of the call as well.

"Yeah yeah, have fun. Bye." Michael ended the call.

Seto released his own laugh, a villainous cackle that sent shivers through Joan. "You think that's funny, whore? Sounds like your husband isn't going to any trouble to rescue you. You better admit defeat before things get nasty."

"Never!" Joan shot back.

Marc took hold of Joan's chin and forced her to look at him. His dark walnut eyes drilled into hers. "You better make up your mind, slut. Kaiba may have all night, but my wife is waiting for me downstairs."

Joan's stomach plummeted at the thought of missing this opportunity. "Please," she said softly, "fuck me before you go."

"On one condition," Marc said.

"Anything," Joan pleaded.

Marc cradled her cheek in his hand. "You fuck Kaiba after I go. You fuck him like the slut you are."

"Of course," Joan breathed.

Marc dropped his lips to meet hers. The first kiss was gentle and warm, the second fierce and scorching. Marc drew back and hooked his fingers under the bridge of her bra. He snapped it off in one quick jerk, leaving her breasts exposed to Seto Kaiba's penetrating gaze. Marc dangled the bra above her. "Who gave you permission to wear this?"

Seto watched Marc in fascination as Marc worked his magic on Joan, resolute to glean every grain of knowledge possible from the older man. Marc's artistic skills applied not only to his profession but extended to the bedroom. Joan transformed as clay under Marc's hands, taking the form Marc desired with little resistance and holding there until he wanted something else. Seto needed to take her there, needed to see what they could become together. However, after Marc left, that missing element still eluded Seto. He'd glimpsed possibilities, though. Perhaps, with the right opportunity, he could win her heart. Perhaps Mokuba could help.