Page 44 of Breeding Clinic

“Let me help.” He puts a knee on the bed and climbs back in, then taps my hip.

I roll over onto my front.

“Let me see.” Liam reaches for the zipper and tugs on it. It proves difficult even for him. He jerks the tab down, but it catches. It won’t unzip.

“Is it stuck?” I ask.

“It’s stuck.” He gropes my ass, massaging it and spreading my cheeks apart.

“That’s not my zipper,” I tell him, glancing over my shoulder.

“It’s not my fault your ass is perfectly spankable.”

“Is it?” I ask, lifting my ass up high. God, it’s been so long since I was spanked. “Are you sure about that? Maybe you should test it and find out.”

He makes a rough sound in the back of his throat and gives my ass a light slap. It’s barely a spank.

“You can do better than that,” I goad him.

“Do you remember your safe word?” he asks, rubbing circles with his thumbs.

“Waffles.”

He slaps me harder, but the blow doesn’t leave a sting behind. His touch is light over my dress. It leaves me aching for more. It’s good. Like my body is my own again. I feel more like myself again.

“I can take more,” I tell him.

“I have another idea. Do you trust me?”

I barely pause before answering. They’ve all been nothing but great to me in this weird situation we’ve found ourselves in. Kind, patient, funny, and sexy as hell. Gabriel makes sure I get enough exercise. Matthew makes sure I’m eating healthier. AndLiam makes sure my sex drive stays manageable. In their own way, all of them take care of me.

“I do.”

“How much do you love this dress?” he asks.

I wore it twice before I got pregnant, and in a week or two it probably won’t fit at all. The zipper barely went up today as it is. I doubt I’ll want to wear the tight bodycon dress after giving birth. “I don’t care about it.”

“Stay there. Whatever you do, don’t move.”

His ominous warning makes my pulse race. He leaves the room and comes back a moment later. I look over my shoulder, my breath hitching when I see what he’s holding.

A knife.

The expression on his face is one of eager anticipation. Like a kid in a candy store.Did he get to that scene in my new book?The one where the mob boss cuts her tights and underwear off and fucks her over a table during a meeting while his underbosses watch.

The front door opens and Matthew calls out that he’s home. Is it already after six?

“In here!” Liam yells, grinning. He spins the knife in his hand. “Perfect timing. I need you.”

“What do you need?” Matthew asks, coming closer. He stands in the doorway, head tilted. “Oh. What are we doing with that?”

“I need an audience. Want to watch?” Liam asks.

“I love it when you get creative,” Matthew says. He drags the chair from the corner to the opposite side of the bed. Then he sits, his hands going to the buttons on his collar. He undoes them, loosening his shirt at the throat. His shirt cuffs are next.

The casual, confident way he sits with one ankle resting on his other knee is hot. When Matthew rolls his sleeves up his forearms and stops them halfway, I have to wonder if he’s doingit on purpose. His expression is inscrutable. He’s harder to read than the others.

The cool slide of the knife against my thigh jerks me out of my thoughts. The metal is smooth. Dangerous. Liam runs the flat of the blade across my thigh. Works his way toward the inside. He slaps my inner thigh with it.

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