Unpermitted Construction

Amy Speedman stood in the doorway of her kitchen, arms crossed beneath her chest, staring at the half-finished extension that was supposed to be her new sunroom. The concrete was uneven. The brickwork looked like it had been laid by someone in the middle of a seizure. The timber frame leaned slightly to the left, as though it was trying to escape its own incompetence.

"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered.

Three weeks. She'd paid three weeks of her life and a substantial chunk of savings for this disaster. The plans had been clear. The measurements were precise. She'd even bought the fucking tiles herself — handmade Italian terracotta, special order, non-refundable.

She stepped out onto the patio in her bare feet, the morning sun warm on her shoulders. She wore a fitted white vest top and black yoga shorts that hugged her hips. Her short black hair was still damp from the shower. No makeup. She hadn't expected to be doing battle with construction workers at nine o'clock on a Tuesday.

Henri Bouchard was the first to arrive. He pulled up in a black van with "Bouchard & Associates — Bespoke Construction" stenciled on the side in a font that was far too elegant for the shitshow attached to the back of her house. He stepped out rolling his shoulders, his massive frame filling out a grey t-shirt that looked like it was holding on for dear life. His dark beard was freshly trimmed, the scar through his left eyebrow catching the light. He had the walk of a man who'd never once questioned whether he belonged in any room he entered.

"Morning, Madame Speedman," he said, his accent thick and unapologetically French. He pulled on work gloves as he approached. "We finish the grouting today, I think."

"You think?" Amy didn't move from the doorway. Her green eyes could have cut glass. "Henri, come here. Look at this."

He walked past her, close enough that she caught the scent of cedar and coffee. He stopped at the edge of the extension and looked down at the floor. Then at the walls. Then back at her.

"The tiles are wrong," she said. "The grout lines are a mess. That corner —" she pointed, "— is out of square by at least two inches. I gave you specific instructions. I gave you diagrams. I gave you a fucking colour swatch."

Henri said nothing for a long moment. His jaw tightened. He rubbed the back of his neck with one huge hand.

"We fix it," he said simply.

"You're damn right you're going to fix it."

The other van arrived ten minutes later. Dominic Vale climbed out from the driver's side, looking like he'd just walked off a magazine shoot rather than a building site. Dark stubble, hazel eyes, that easy smile that made people forgive almost anything. He was wearing a black polo shirt stretched across his broad chest, sleeves tight around his arms.

Leo Kowalski emerged from the passenger side like a slab of granite given legs. Bald head gleaming, thick arms hanging at his sides, his gut straining against a black button-down that was one deep breath from surrendering. He had coffee in one massive paw and was already chewing on something.

"Right," Amy said, standing in the garden with her hands on her hips. "All of you. Here. Now."

The three men gathered in a loose semicircle in front of her. Even with Dominic at six-three and Henri at six-two, and Leo being roughly the size of a wardrobe, Amy held the ground. Five-foot-one in bare feet, her tiny waist and full chest making her look like a comic book drawing come to life, she stared up at them without flinching.

"This," she said, gesturing behind her, "is not what I asked for. Not even close."

Dominic glanced at the extension. His smile faltered. "Amy, listen—"

"Don't 'Amy, listen' me. I hired you three because you came highly recommended. I specifically said I wanted the terracotta laid in a herringbone pattern. I said the walls needed to be square before tiling. I said the drainage needed to slope away from the house. None of that has happened. None of it."

Leo took a slow sip of his coffee. His dark eyes moved over her slowly — not disguising it, not even trying. Amy caught it. She always caught it. She'd felt those looks from all three of them since day one. The lingering stares when she bent over to check the footing. The way Henri's voice dropped half an octave whenever she was nearby. The way Dominic always found a reason to brush past her in the narrow hallway.

She'd ignored it. She was paying them to build, not to flirt.

But today, standing in the sun with her blood up and her patience gone, she felt something else underneath the anger. A heat she hadn't expected. A low pulse between her legs that she recognised with irritation and a strange kind of curiosity.

"The client is unhappy," Henri said to the other two, his voice low. "This is not acceptable."

"No shit it's not acceptable," Amy snapped. "I want it torn out and redone. Today."

Leo finally spoke. His voice was a deep bass rumble. "That's two days of work to rip out, Amy. Minimum."

"Then you'd better start now."

Dominic stepped forward. "Let me come inside and look at the plans again. Maybe we can—"

"I've shown you the plans four times, Dominic. Four. You nodded. You said 'no problem, babe.' You smiled at me with that smile and I believed you. And here we are."

Something shifted in Dominic's expression. The easy charm dropped away and what was underneath was harder. More focused.

"Okay," he said quietly. "You're right. We fucked up."

"Thank you. Finally."

"But you standing here yelling at us isn't going to make the tiles lay themselves."

"I'm not yelling. This is me being disappointed. Yelling comes later."

Henri moved. Not suddenly, but with purpose. He stepped into her space, close enough that she had to tip her head back to look at him. His grey-green eyes moved over her face. She could feel the heat coming off his chest.

"Madame Speedman," he said, his voice dropping into a register that made her stomach tighten. "Perhaps we discuss this inside. More private."

"I don't need privacy. I need competence."

Leo set his coffee on the patio table. He rolled his sleeves up, exposing thick forearms covered in dark hair. "She's got a mouth on her today."

"She's got a mouth on her every day," Dominic said, and there was something in his tone — not mocking, but appreciative. Almost hungry.

Amy felt her pulse kick. The three of them were looking at her now in a way that had nothing to do with construction. The energy had shifted. The garden felt smaller. The sun felt hotter.

"What?" she said, lifting her chin.

"Nothing," Henri said. He hadn't stepped back. He was still right there, close enough that if she inhaled deeply her chest would brush against him.

"You're standing very close to me, Henri."

"Oui."

"Are you going to move?"

"Non."

The silence held for three heartbeats. Then four. Then Amy felt her own breath go shallow. She knew this feeling. She'd felt it before — with these same men, in this same backyard, on a night that none of them had ever mentioned out loud. A birthday. A few drinks. A decision that had seemed insane in the morning and inevitable in the moment.

"That extension," she said, her voice quieter now, "still needs fixing."

"It will be fixed," Henri said. "After."

"After what?"

He didn't answer. Instead, his hand came up and his thumb traced along her jaw. The callused pad of it dragged across her skin. She didn't pull away. Her eyes stayed locked on his.

"After we give you what you actually came out here for," Dominic said from behind her.

She turned her head to look at him. He was closer than she expected. His hazel eyes had gone dark, the playful warmth replaced with something that made her thighs press together.

"I came out here to tell you your work is garbage."

"And you were right," Dominic said. "It is. But that's not why your nipples are hard right now."

She looked down. He was right. They were pressing against the thin white cotton of her vest, visible and obvious. She felt her face flush.

"Fuck off, Dominic."

He smiled. Not the charming smile. Something rawer.

Henri's hand slid into her hair, gripping the short black strands at the back of her head. Not hard. Not yet. Just holding. She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

"Last time," Henri said, his mouth near her ear, "you told me you wanted it rougher. Do you remember?"

"I remember you not finishing the job. Both jobs, apparently."

He laughed against her neck. A low, dangerous sound. "I always finish."

Leo moved in from the side. His massive hand palmed the back of her head like it was a softball. He turned her face toward him. His dark eyes were heavy-lidded, his jaw set.

"Down," he said. One word. A command.

Amy looked up at him. At all three of them. The garden was private. The fence was high. The neighbours were at work. She could say no. She could walk back inside and lock the door and call the building inspector.

Instead, she sank to her knees on the warm patio tiles.

"That's better," Leo said.

He unbuttoned his shirt with one hand, the other still holding her head. His chest was massive, covered in dark hair, his gut thick and solid. He reached down and unbuckled his belt. The sound of leather through loops was loud in the quiet garden.

Henri moved to her right. Dominic to her left. She was surrounded. Three pairs of legs. Three sets of hands. The sun beat down on the back of her neck.

Leo freed himself. His cock was thick and heavy, even soft, hanging between his thighs like a weapon waiting to be armed. He stroked it once, twice, and it began to thicken, veins rising along the shaft, the flared head swelling.

"Open," he said.

Amy opened her mouth.

He fed it to her slowly. Just the head at first, stretching her lips wide. She tasted salt and skin. He pushed forward, inch by inch, his hand steady on the back of her skull. She felt him harden fully inside her mouth, the girth increasing until her jaw ached.

"Fuck," Leo grunted. "That's it. Take it."

She took it. She felt him hit the back of her throat and swallowed against him, opening her throat the way she'd learned. He groaned and pushed deeper. Her eyes watered. She breathed through her nose.

Dominic had his cock out now too. Long and thick, not as brutal as Leo's but substantial. He pressed it against her cheek, smearing precum across her skin. She turned her head, trying to take him too, but Leo held her in place.

"Mine first," Leo said.

Henri watched, his own cock out, stroking slowly. Ten inches of brutal thickness, the mushroom head flaring wider than the shaft. He didn't rush. He watched Amy's mouth stretch around Leo's girth, watched the tears gather at the corners of her eyes, watched her throat work.

"Beautiful," he murmured. "Absolutely beautiful."

Leo fucked her mouth with slow, deep strokes. Each thrust pressed his cock into her throat, his heavy balls brushing her chin. She gagged once, twice, and he pulled back just enough to let her breathe before pushing back in. Her hands came up to grip his thighs, her fingers barely reaching around them.

"Look at me," Leo said.

She looked up. Her green eyes were wet, her lips stretched pink and swollen around his shaft. He held her gaze and pushed deep. Held. Her face pressed against his groin, his cock buried to the root. She couldn't breathe. Her throat convulsed around him. He held her there for five seconds, ten, then pulled out.

She gasped, drool spilling down her chin, hanging in strings.

"My turn," Henri said.

He stepped in front of her. His cock was enormous. She looked at it with a mixture of want and apprehension that she couldn't hide.

"You can take it," he said. "You have before."

He pressed the head against her lips. She opened wider. He pushed in. The stretch was immediate and severe. Her jaw burned. He fed her half his length and started to thrust, using her mouth with controlled, deliberate strokes.

Dominic lifted her vest top over her head while she knelt there, her arms raising automatically. Her breasts spilled free — full and heavy, nipples stiff. He cupped them both from behind, squeezing, his thumbs circling her nipples. She moaned around Henri's cock.

"Get her shorts off," Leo said.

Dominic hooked his thumbs into her waistband and yanked her yoga shorts down to her knees. She wasn't wearing anything underneath. The warm air hit her pussy and she felt how wet she was. soaking. She'd been wet since Henri first stepped into her space.

"Spread your knees," Dominic said.

She shuffled wider on the tiles. The rough surface bit into her skin. Dominic's hand slid between her thighs from behind. Two thick fingers pushed inside her without preamble. She was so wet they slid in easily. He fucked her with them, curling forward, pressing against the front wall of her pussy.

"Oh fuck," she gasped, pulling off Henri's cock. "Oh fuck, Dominic—"

Henri gripped her hair and pushed back into her mouth. "Don't stop."

She couldn't speak. She could only take it. Henri in her throat, Dominic's fingers working her pussy, Leo's massive hand palming her tit and rolling her nipple between his fingers. She was trembling.

"Stand her up," Leo said.

They pulled her to her feet. Her shorts dropped to the ground. She stood there naked in her own backyard, three clothed men surrounding her. The power dynamic was so sharply defined it made her dizzy.

Dominic bent her over the patio table. The wood was warm against her breasts and stomach. He kicked her ankles apart and lined up his cock with her pussy. She felt the head press against her entrance.

"Tell me you want it," he said.

"I want it."

"Tell me properly."

"Fuck me, Dominic. Put your dick inside me and fuck me."

He pushed in. One long, deep stroke that buried him to the hilt. She cried out, her back arching. He was thick and long and he knew how to use every inch. He started fucking her hard, his hips slapping against her ass, his hands gripping her waist.

Henri moved to the other end of the table. He stood on the bench seat and presented his cock to her mouth. She took it, tasting herself on him — no, tasting him, the salt and musk of his arousal. He held her head and fucked her mouth in counterpoint to Dominic's thrusts. Every time Dominic drove into her pussy, her body jerked forward, driving Henri's cock deeper into her throat.

Leo watched for a moment, stroking himself. Then he moved behind Dominic. He spat into his hand. Amy felt his fingers — massive, calloused — press against her asshole. One thick finger pushed inside.

She tensed. Gripped the table.

"Relax," Leo said. "Or this is going to hurt more than it needs to."

"I know what it's going to feel like," she said, pulling off Henri's cock. "I've had you before."

"Then you know I don't go easy."

"I didn't ask you to."

He added a second finger. The stretch burned. She breathed through it. Dominic slowed his thrusts, letting her adjust. Then Leo pulled his fingers out and she felt the blunt head of his cock press against her hole.

"Henri," Leo said. "Hold her."

Henri moved from the table. He came around behind her, his massive chest pressing against her back, his arms wrapping around her. He held her still. His cock pressed against the small of her back, hot and slick.

Dominic pulled out of her pussy and stepped aside. Leo took his place. He lined up with her asshole and pushed.

The head popped in. Amy's breath caught. Her fingers clawed the table. He was so thick it felt like her body was splitting in two.

"Fuck," she hissed. "Fuck, fuck, fuck—"

Leo pushed deeper. Slowly. Relentlessly. She felt every inch of him opening her up. The burn was intense. Her eyes watered. She bit down on her forearm.

"Take it," Leo grunted. "Take the whole thing."

He buried himself in her ass. She felt his heavy balls against her pussy. He held there, letting her feel the fullness. Then he started to move.

His thrusts were long and hard and deep. Each one drove her hips against the table edge. She could feel the bruise forming. He slapped her ass — once, twice — the sound cracking through the garden. Her cheek stung. She yelped.

"Again," she said.

He slapped her harder. The sting made her pussy clench. She was dripping down her thighs.

Dominic climbed onto the table in front of her. He sat on the edge, his cock jutting up. "Suck me while he fucks your ass."

She took him in her mouth. The angle was awkward but she managed. She sucked him while Leo pounded her from behind, each thrust shoving her forward onto Dominic's cock. The rhythm built — Leo slamming into her ass, her mouth sliding down Dominic's shaft, Henri watching and stroking himself with that slow, predatory patience.

"Swap," Henri said.

Leo pulled out. The sudden emptiness made Amy gasp. Henri took his place. His cock was bigger. Much bigger. She felt the head press against her stretched, open asshole and her whole body tensed.

"Look at me," Henri said.

She turned her head. His grey-green eyes locked onto hers.

"I'm going to fuck your ass now. Hard."

"Yes," she whispered.

He pushed in. The girth was brutal. She screamed — not from pain, or not only from pain. From the overwhelming fullness of him. He didn't stop. He drove in until his hips pressed against her ass, his entire ten inches buried inside her.

"Oh god," she moaned. "Oh fucking god—"

He pulled almost all the way out. Then slammed back in. The force knocked the air from her lungs. He set a brutal pace, fucking her ass with deep, angry thrusts. Each one drove the table forward an inch. He slapped her ass while he fucked her — hard, stinging slaps that made her jerk and clench around him.

"Your ass is mine," he growled. "Say it."

"My ass is yours."

"Louder."

"My ass is yours!"

Dominic was jerking off in front of her face. She opened her mouth and he pushed his cock back in. She was being used from both ends — Henri destroying her ass, Dominic fucking her throat. Leo had moved to the side, watching, his own cock in his hand.

Then Henri pulled out. "On the floor," he said. "On your knees. All of you, around her."

Amy sank to the tiled patio floor. Her legs were shaking. Her ass throbbed. She knelt in the centre of the three men, looking up at them. They stood close, their legs forming a perimeter around her. She tipped her head back. Turned from side to side. Looked at each of them.

Leo was stroking himself fast now. His massive hand worked his thick shaft. His jaw was clenched. His thighs were tense.

"Close," he grunted.

"On her face," Dominic said.

Leo stepped forward. He aimed his cock at her face and stroked twice more. Then he came. Thick, heavy ropes of cum shot across her cheek and chin. She closed her eyes. Felt the heat of it on her skin. He groaned and kept stroking, milking every drop onto her. It dripped from her jaw onto her chest.

Dominic was next. He stepped in close, his cock inches from her face. She looked up at him, her eyes open, cum already streaking her cheek. He stroked himself — three quick pumps — and came across her lips and nose. She felt it land warm and thick. She opened her mouth slightly. Some of it caught her tongue.

Henri stepped forward last. He looked down at her with those grey-green eyes. She looked right back at him. Defiant. Unbroken. Cum on her face and that green gaze sharp as ever.

He stroked himself slowly. Twice. Three times. Then he came. More than the other two combined. It hit her forehead, her cheek, her lips. It ran down her chin. She kept her eyes open as long as she could, then blinked as a strand landed near her lashes.

The garden was quiet. The sun beat down. The three men stood around her, breathing hard. Amy knelt on the tiles, naked, her face covered in cum. She looked up at them.

"The extension," she said, her voice rough, "still needs fixing."

Henri laughed. A real laugh. He tucked himself back in and looked at the others.

"She's right," he said.

"Obviously I'm right," Amy said. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "And I want a discount."

Leo stared at her. "You're asking for a discount right now?"

"I'm asking for a discount while I have your cum on my face. That's called negotiating from a position of strength."

Dominic started laughing. He couldn't stop. He sat down on the bench seat and put his head in his hands.

Henri extended his hand. Amy took it. He pulled her to her feet. She stood there, five-foot-one, naked, dripping, and completely in command.

"Twenty percent," he said.

"Thirty."

"Fifteen."

"Twenty-five, and you redo the drainage properly this time."

He looked at her for a long moment. Then he nodded.

"Twenty-five."

"Excellent." She picked up her vest top from the ground and held it against her chest. "I'll expect you all back at seven tomorrow morning. And bring a spirit level this time."

She walked back into the house. The door closed behind her. The three men stood in the garden in silence.

Leo picked up his coffee. It was cold. He drank it anyway.

"She's something else," Dominic said.

Henri was already looking at the extension, assessing the damage. He rubbed his jaw.

"She's right about the drainage," he said. "It's completely wrong."

They got to work.