Page 113 of Heat Clinic

“Oh, fuck.” I moan and slap back against him, taking all of him until we’re rocking in rhythm as he circles my clit. He rubs me faster. Harder. Ruts me deeper. “That’s so good. Don’t stop.”

“Yeah? You gonna come on my cock?”

Everything pulls taut as I pant, and the world falls away. It’s just us. This moment. We’re all that exists. All that matters. I balance on the edge of it and let my head drop forward, the fake glasses sliding down my nose and my hair slipping out of its updo. The ends of it brush against the bike’s leather as he bounces me on his cock and rubs my clit ‘til I’m panting. “I… I’m gonna come.”

“Fucking do it, baby,” he says, his hand never stopping even though his cock’s slowed its pumping. He fucks me slow and deep and rubs me fast and hard.

I shatter, crying out with my release as my walls clamp down on him. My knees are shaking from the effort of staying upright on these heels as he slides in and out of my wet folds, fucking me through my aftershocks. Breathing fast, I drag in a greedy gulp of air and rock back against him.

Sam puts both hands on my hips again and pumps, bending his knees and nudging me forward until he likes the angle. “You’re such a dirty girl, baby, and you’re about to get dirtier because I’m gonna fill this pussy with cum.”

He grunts, pulling me back on his cock as he fucks me. He uses me, moving me and holding me and taking me, until he moans and his pace slows. Thrusting slowly, his cock pulses as he fills me up and the first lash of semen paints my walls.

“Fuck, baby. That’s good. Have all of it. Let’s load that pussy up.”

When his cock stops twitching, he pulls out with a satisfied groan and spreads my lips wide so he can see how much cream he’s filled my hole with. I flex, pushing it out so it drips onto the concrete floor. When I’m done, he drops his dirty rag down to soak it up and steps away. We both right our clothing, and then he tugs me in for a tender kiss.

“Hmm. That was fun.”

“It was. Dinner’s at seven,” I tell him.

Sam presses his forehead against mine and chuckles. “I’ll set an alarm so I’m not late.”

I smile and slant one last kiss over his mouth, then step out of the circle of his arms and tug my hair out of its holder. “Wash up first too. Tonight’s special.”

“Okay, baby.” He zips his jeans and buttons them, then fixes his belt.

I leave him to finish working on his bike and head back upstairs, checking on the thawing steak. And then I soak in the bath and shave again before touching up my makeup and dressing in my new outfit. I keep my hair down because that’s how they all like it. Marcus and Sam because they think it’s pretty and like to stroke it, and Tom because he says it’s easier to grab and make a fist.

Once everything’s in the oven and cooking, I open the wine and let it breathe while I set the table with our nice china.

The front door slams. “I’m home!” Tom calls.

“In the kitchen!”

Tom sets his things down and wanders in, his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looks me up and down, his gaze stuck on my pink knee-length dress and the sheer white silk apron edged in lace ruffles tied over the top of it. He tugs his tie looser and grins.

“Do you like it?” I smooth the apron over my full skirt. It’s sheer and absolutely useless for cooking, but that’s not the point of it.

“It’s almost perfect. Be right back.”

What’s missing?I check my earlobes to make sure I put the pearl studs in.

Tom comes back holding my pink and white collar in one hand and my rose gold heart-shaped clamps in the other.Oh, he wants to play.I lift my hair for him so he can secure the collar around my throat.

“Spread your legs.”

I move my legs apart, and he flips my flouncy skirt up, his probing finger finding my clit with expert precision as he tugs the hood back and fits the clamp there. I moan and fidget from the agony and pleasure of it as it pinches, my pulse throbbing between my legs. In a few minutes, it’ll go numb. Until they take it off me.

He reaches around me and shoves a hand into the top of my dress and bra, rubbing my nipples into aching points. One after the other, he fits the clamps there too until all three points are tight and I’m wet again. Everything slips and slides, the clit clamp awkward between my legs as I fidget.

“Satisfied?” I ask him.

Tom threads his fingers into my hair and pulls my head to the side, pressing a kiss to the scars on my throat. “Very.”

The front door slams again. “I’m home! Let me just hop in the shower.” Sam runs upstairs.

“That’s a lot of food,” Tom says, gesturing to the spread of pots and pans on the stove. He’s still playing with my nipple, his hand moving against the constraints of my bra. “You’ve been busy.”

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