Chapter 11: The Pre-Trip Negotiation
The pink crystal was a cold, hard fact between them. Mark’s fingers jerked back from it as if shocked, but his eyes remained glued to the obscene glitter nestled in the cleft of her ass. Lacy stayed bent over for a long moment, letting the image sear itself into his mind, then straightened slowly. She turned, the plug shifting inside her with a subtle, intimate weight, and settled back onto the couch, tucking one leg beneath her as if they were discussing grocery lists.
“It’s not so bad,” she said lightly, picking at a thread on the cushion. “Kind of full, though. He really went for the biggest one they had.”
Mark found his voice, but it was cracked and dry. “Take it out.”
“Why?” She blinked at him, all faux innocence. “It’s helping me… acclimate. You heard what Derek said.” She leaned closer, her breasts pressing against his arm. “He’s going to want to fuck me there, Mark. At the conference. Maybe first, before the others. He was very specific.”
“The conference?” Mark’s head swiveled toward her, the new horror momentarily overshadowing the old.
“Oh.” Lacy’s hand flew to her mouth, a gesture of perfectly timed forgetfulness. “I meant to tell you. The regional leadership conference in Charlotte. Mr. Harrison is sending me. It’s a huge opportunity. Networking, visibility… it could really fast-track my position.”
A fragile hope flickered in Mark’s eyes. “That’s… that’s great, Lacy. When is it? Maybe I can come, we could get a room, make a weekend of—”
“It’s associates only,” she cut in, her voice gently apologetic as she killed the hope. “No significant others. Policy. Derek, Tom, and Carl are all going too.” She let that land, watching the names sink in like stones in murky water. “They think I’m single, remember? It’s the whole reason any of this works.”
She placed a hand on his thigh, feeling the muscle jump beneath her palm. “They’re going to expect me to share a room. To cut costs. And with what’s already happened… they’ll expect me to share a lot more than just a room.”
“No.” The word was automatic, a weak reflex. But even as he said it, his gaze dropped to the front of his sweatpants, where a renewed, traitorous stiffness was already evident.
“Baby,” she sighed, her hand sliding upward to cup him through the fabric. He was fully hard again, pulsing against her palm. “It’s just logistics. It’s keeping up appearances. It’s for us.” Each statement was a soft, persuasive tap against his crumbling resolve. She leaned in, her lips against his ear. “And I’ll tell you everything. Every single detail. Like I always do.”
Her fingers slipped inside his waistband, wrapping around his heated flesh. She began to stroke him, a slow, knowing rhythm. “I’ll call you every night. From the bathroom. And I’ll whisper exactly what they’re doing to me. What I’m doing for them. How Derek’s thick cock feels in my ass after all this preparation.” She squeezed him, twisting her wrist on the upstroke. “How Tom likes to come on my tits. How Carl makes me lick his balls clean.”
Mark emitted a strangled sound, part protest, part pure want. His hips pushed up into her fist.
“You want to know, don’t you?” she breathed, her other hand pulling down the strap of her blouse, freeing a heavy breast. She guided his head down, pressing his mouth to her nipple. “You get hard listening to it. You get off on it. This is just… a longer story.”
He suckled greedily, a man starved, his hands clutching at her hips, his thumbs digging near the base of the plug. The contradiction was utter, and she owned every part of it. She owned him.
Later, in the narrow gloom of their bedroom, she pushed him onto his back. The half-finished wedding sketch on the wall seemed to watch with blank, penciled eyes. She straddled him, but instead of taking him inside her, she turned around, presenting the jeweled plug to him once more. She lowered herself, not onto his cock, but onto his mouth.
“Taste it,” she commanded, her voice no longer sweet, but low and smoky with power. “Taste where no one has ever been.”
A shudder of revulsion wracked him, but his hands came up to grip her ass, pulling her down. His tongue, hesitant at first, then driven by a deeper, darker compulsion, licked around the flared base. He tasted her musk, the faint, clinical scent of lubricant, and the cold, inorganic smoothness of the crystal