Page 112 of Heat Clinic

I smile and pull the steak out of the freezer, then fill a big bowl with cool water for it to thaw. It’s barely two, so there’s plenty of time to work on the side dishes later.

It’s time to go find my other mate.

ChapterTwenty-Nine

EMILY

I grabmy glasses from the table by the door and head down into the basement, the elevator not so scary now that I’m used to its creaks and groans. Sam’s stripped down to his jeans and white T-shirt, his plaid button-up tied around his waist. I stand there and appreciate the view for a moment while he pulls some rusted part out of the bike and turns it over in his greasy hands.

“Excuse me, sir? I think I’m lost. My car has a flat.” I press a hand to my chest and lean into the little fantasy I’m creating. Sam stands from his crouch and wipes his hands clean on the rag that was stuffed in his back pocket. “I’m so glad I saw the sign for your repair shop from the road. There’s not much else out here. I had to walk half a mile in the dirt in these heels.”

He looks me up and down, taking in the tight black pencil skirt, my white button-up tucked into it. The black thigh highs, their lace topped edges hidden under the hem of my skirt. My heels are high black pumps, and my hair’s up in a quick and easy updo that looks more complicated than it is. I adjust the pair of fake glasses on my face, sliding them up my nose from where they’ve ridden down.

“What’s a girl like you doing all the way out here?” he asks, laying a hand on his bike’s handlebars.

“I’m headed home. Do you think you can fix my car now? I’d be so grateful.”

“Depends,” he says, stuffing his rag into his back pocket. “Can you pay?”

I reach for my purse and realize I left it upstairs. “I must have left it in the car. But if you can give me a tow, I can pay. I have my credit card, I promise.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “Card machine’s broken. Cash only.”

“Oh.” I fidget and nibble on my lower lip. “I don’t have any cash. Is there… is there any other way I can pay you?”

He runs his tongue over his teeth and pretends to think about it. “Maybe. Suppose you could work for it.” Sam reaches for his belt, flicking it open. The metal jingles together as he undoes it, then pops the button on his jeans and drags his zipper down. “I take payment upfront.”

I bite my lip harder and glance at the elevator behind me as if I’m thinking about it. As if slick’s not creeping down my inner thigh at the thought of sinking down on my knees and swallowing him down. The camera nestled against the ceiling blinks its red dot.

“If that’s what it takes,” I say, my voice breathy.

I close the distance between us, my heels tapping against the rough concrete, and then I sink down onto my knees. The floor is hard and cold underneath me as I grab the edges of his jeans and tug them apart.

He’s hard, his cock straining against the fabric, and I’m not the only one not wearing underwear. I pull him free and work his pants down lower under the curve of his ass, then bring him to my mouth and lick. The bead of pre-cum on his tip bursts with salty musk and the faint taste of oranges and cream on my tongue.

Opening wider, I suck him deeper, my cheeks hollowing until he hits the back of my throat. I fight past the urge to gag and open, swallowing him down. I’ve been trained well, and I love how much it pleases them.

“That’s good,” Sam hisses once his cock’s buried to the root in my mouth. He tangles his fingers in my hair and holds me there, my nose pressed against his groin. “The minute I saw them, I knew those red lips would look so pretty wrapped around my cock.”

He pulls out, letting me breathe, then presses back in, giving me almost no time to recover. “You’re good at sucking cock. You city girls always are.”

When he draws back, I press a hand to his thighs, so he knows I need a moment. “Do… do you do this sort of thing a lot?”

Sam fists his cock and taps his head against my mouth, smirking when I lick his sensitive underside. I find that familiar vein and trace it with my tongue.

“Only shop around for miles and miles. But if you can talk, then you’re not working hard enough.” He forces his cock back into my mouth, and I suck him, dropping my hands back to my thighs. He tugs my head down onto his length and my throat bulges with him.

“Goddamn it, that’s good. Are you as good of a fuck as you are a dirty cocksucker?” He pulls out of my mouth and palms his cock, jerking it. “Get up. Bend over that bike and lift up your skirt.”

I stand, my stockings catching on the rough ground and ripping as I get up and grab fistfuls of my skirt, hiking it up until he can see me. His eyes go right to the juncture of my legs, to my dark thatch of hair and my wet, pink lips peeking out.

“Look at you, you dirty girl. No panties? You knew what you were gonna get when you walked into my shop. Bend over. Ass up, baby. Get ready to pay with that pretty pussy.”

I bend over the bike, my palms gripping its leather seat, and wait. He slaps my ass once, then grabs it and pulls the cheek aside so he can see me better as he rubs a finger between my labia and pries them apart.

“So wet. You like this, don’t you? You like having my rough, dirty hands all over your pretty, smooth skin?” He sticks a finger in me and pumps it in and out, then adds another. The room fills with wet sounds and the smell of my arousal, and I whine when he pulls his fingers free.

Sam nudges his cock at my opening and slides in. He pumps into me and groans, his hands grabbing onto my hips like they’re handles as he tugs me back against his thrusts and adjusts to get a deeper angle. “You’re so fucking hot.” He grabs me all over like he doesn’t know what to touch first. He squeezes my breast through my shirt, then rubs up and down the lace edge of my thigh-highs before slipping his fingers through my folds and fondling my clit.

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