Page 59 of Heat Clinic

The sound of his zipper sliding open is loud. The blunt tip of his cock slicks through my folds twice, then notches at my entrance and thrusts to the hilt. It’s a hard entry that knocks the air out of me, my knees hitting the bed as he fucks into me. The metal teeth of his zipper scratch at the sensitive reddened skin of my ass. My body clenches tight around him as if to trap him there. To hold him there, deep in my pussy, rutting up against my womb where he belongs.

“Miss Thorne, do you still feel the urge to touch yourself between the legs?”

Fuck. God, yes. I want to come.“I do, sir. I want to touch myself and come on your cock.”

He leans back and slaps my ass. “Such filthy language, Miss Thorne. It’s not befitting my secretary. Perhaps you need to work this naughtiness from your system so you can behave and be a good girl again.”

“I think you’re right, sir.” I reach between my legs and pull my skirt up higher, then sink my hand between my folds and stroke my clit. It’s too much. Too much sensation, too much pain, too much pleasure, too perfect. His dress pants rub against my chaffed bottom as he fucks me over my bed and then I’m coming, my pleasure taut and coiling before it snaps.

I cry out, my walls fluttering as I come on his cock and he fucks me, still going, heedless of how sensitive I am now as he takes what he wants from me and seeks his own pleasure. Using my cunt like it’s his. Like he owns it.

“Are you ready for your last punishment?” he asks, his breathing hard and his pace battering.

“Yes, sir. Punish me. I deserve it. I’ve been a very naughty girl.”

Sam comes with a grunt, his pace slowing as he fucks me deeper, shoving his way to the end of me as his cock juts and spasms with each hot pulse of seed. He drags his cock in and out of me, using my pussy to stroke the last pump of cum from his balls until there’s nothing left and he groans, as satisfied as I am.

He glides a hand over my reddened ass and back, petting me. “Fuck, baby, you’re so goddamn hot. I love you.”

My eyes pop open as I struggle to process what he just said and if he meant it. It’s early. Too early. Right?

Sam hisses in a breath and gives one last pump into me, then withdraws. He spreads my cheeks apart to watch me contract my muscles and push our mixed cum and slick from inside me.

“Stay right there,” he says, and then he walks away. The tap runs for a moment and then he comes back with a damp towel and wipes me down.

I pull my skirt down and sit on the bed as he takes the messy towel to the laundry hamper in the bathroom. When he comes back, he cups my face in his hands and kisses me, then asks if I want to finish packing.

When my bags are bursting with clothes and necessities, I change into pajamas and he takes his dress shirt and pants off and borrows one of my old oversized band tees and wears it with his boxer briefs. We lie down together on the sofa and cuddle and watch bad TV.

“Chinese or Thai?” he asks during a commercial.

“Hmm?”

“For dinner.” He plays with my hair, pulling it from its messy bun so he can run his fingers through it and bring it to his nose to smell. “I figured pizza’s out since you didn’t react well to dairy. Chinese or Thai should be pretty safe. Are you okay? You seem a bit distracted. Are you still thinking about how your mom reacted?”

“Either is fine. I’m just thinking about something you said while we were…”

His hand stops carding through my hair. “Did I take it too far?”

“No, it’s… I liked all of that, the roleplaying and the spanking, but at the end you said you loved me. And I know sometimes in the heat of the moment people say things, so—”

“I do love you, Emily.”

My heart flutters against my ribs like a songbird beating at its cage. His eyes are warm, and his expression is serious. He means it. “Even though it’s only been a few days?” Not to mention that I’ve spent half that time delirious from my heat.

“I don’t hold back my feelings, Emily. My dad died when I was nine. He went out for a jog and it was hot, so he jumped into our pool to cool off. He dropped dead at thirty-four of a heart attack from the shock. After that, it was me and my mom and her sister. Growing up without him was hard. I learned not to hold back my feelings or not say I love you because you never know when it might be your last day. If there’s something I want to do, I do it. If there’s something I want to say, I say it. So when I tell you I love you, I fucking love you with every single part of me. We don’t live and love on anyone else’s timeline but our own.”

The pain of what he must have gone through rips me up. “I’m so sorry about your dad. It sounds like that was really hard.”

He presses a kiss to my forehead and goes back to playing with my hair. “It was. It’s okay if you can’t say it back yet. I’ll say it for the both of us. When you’re ready, I’ll be there. I love you, baby. I love how kind and sweet and caring you are. How you nibble on your lip when you want to say something but think you shouldn’t, and how you get that little crease between your eyebrows. How you eat my food—”

“That was one time!”

“Is it, though? You strike me as a food thief. It’s okay. I don’t mind. I’ll just order enough for both of us and you can have half. Oooh, right there. That face. I love it when you pout. I think I love your pouty face almost as much as I love your orgasm face. And your boobs. And your butt.”

Twisting, I give him a light slap to the stomach. He grabs my hand and drags it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the heel of my hand. “I love you, baby. And I love that I’ll get to prove it to you every single day. I’m going to love our baby… and I’mreallygoing to love practicing making that baby until you’re ready to get knocked up.”

My face and ears grow hot. “You’re terrible.”

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