Page 139 of Saved By My Buyers

Screaming, I come so hard my vision clouds, and I barely hear as he brings Bee to orgasm again, roaring as he comes. I’m barely holding myself up, because I can’t fall forward with the plug inside of me.

Chuckling, Jack carefully pulls out of Bee’s ass, and I whimper, shuddering with a need I shouldn’t feel as I watch as his cum starts to drip out.

“We’ll work up to that, Dolly,” he growls, carefully turning off the trifecta of toys I’ve been working myself over with, and releasing the suction from the toy on the headboard. My arms fail me, making me collapse onto the mattress.

Reaching out to me, Bee links her fingers with mine, just as fucking wrecked as I am.

“Deep breath,” he rumbles, “and push out slowly.”

Doing as he says, I find the plug doesn’t hurt as he pulls it carefully out of me.

“Perfect,” he says, tossing the plug aside and pulling me into his arms. “How are you feeling?”

“Sleepy,” I murmur with a sigh.

Bee nods, crawling to lay next to me, wrapping her arms around me too.

“I feel safe and really happy,” I add.

“There’s our girl,” he praises me. “I should have known it was a little too ambitious for anything other than this.”

“Can Bee still fuck me another day?” I ask, my eyes wanting to close. My mind is still latched onto the idea of Bee with a strap on. I bet she’d look fucking stunning with it on.

“Yes, please,” Bee purrs, kissing my shoulder. “There’s so many fun ways we can use it. I’m proud of you by the way. Don’t let him have a single part of you.”

Knowing she means Gareth, I sniffle. I don’t know why I’m crying, but my body feels as if it’s coming down from a roller coaster. This is why Jack insists on aftercare because the sex is always so intense.

“Ours,” Jack whispers in my ear, and they hold me until I’m ready to get up and shower.

I don’t know what I’d do without them.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Bronwyn

Ihave a hate-love relationship with the holidays. When Dahlia was gone, they were the hardest for me. Now that I work at the Keller Crisis Center, I see an influx of calls of very sad, lonely people.

Sometimes they’re runaways who want encouragement to reach out to someone they know still loves them, other times they are struggling and need to be checked into the hospital. The days stretch out in front of me, and I’m starting to long for January first to come faster.

Jack is driving me to work this morning the way he has been more often. His anxiety is up as Greg checks in periodically when he can, to see how things are going and to report what he’s found to Jack and his team.

He has people working for Gareth now in the form of housekeeping and groundsman employees, and the entire house has been bugged in the areas he’s most likely to have sensitive conversations.

Sooner or later, we’re going to find something to nail his balls to the wall. A part of me knows he’ll probably be killed, but all I can allow myself to feel is a sense of relief that it’ll be over then.

He paid someone to hurt me. Gareth is dangerous and obviously still obsessed with Dahlia.

Monday morning came really quickly, the weekend flying by as we spent it together, while getting our respective work done. I have to say Dahlia has been working her ass off for this group project, and New Year’s Day is still three weeks away.

I kind of hope she gives Ivan hell.

Traffic is really heavy this morning, and I’m not surprised when Jack pulls into a parking garage a block away from the Crisis Center. I don’t offer to walk alone, because I know he wouldn’t let me, and I don’t really want to.

“Okay,” he murmurs, pulling into a spot smoothly and putting the truck into park. “This is me, checking in, Bee. I know December has got to be a really rough month for you taking calls on the crisis line, and we’ve all been so busy that we haven’t really been able to do any Christmassy type of activities.”

“I know,” I sigh. “Call after call of speaking to people who are lonely and sad are taking a toll on me. I know it’s the season. I’m taught this during training, and I’ve seen it other years while working at the Crisis Center. Being in the thick of it is just a huge reality check.”

“It is,” he says with a nod. “I want to do something fun that’s a reminder of the good things about the holidays. I was invited to a block party by my hockey buddies. I haven’t seen them much recently, and they want proof of life. Come with me?”

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