* * * *
Boone woke, took a piss, and opened his door to see if Willow had arrived. As instructed, she was standing to the side of his door, facing the wall in inspection pose.
“Inside, fucktoy.”
She stepped in, and he jerked his chin toward the bed. “Face up, ass hanging off the side. Hold your ankles.”
She climbed onto the mattress, lying back so her hips rested just at the edge. He reached between her thighs, plucked the egg free, and tossed it to the side before lining himself up.
There was no warning, no foreplay — just the hard slam of his cock into her, stretching her in one long thrust, his cock suddenly engulfed in her heat, squeezed by muscles struggling to accept him.
Her breath hitched at the sudden fullness, and she bent her legs, pulling them toward her body.
She didn’t let go of her ankles, but he glared at her anyway, and she straightened them, spread them wide.
Boone’s gaze stayed locked on her face as he reached down, pinched one nipple hard, rolling it between his fingers before giving the other the same treatment. He pulled until her back arched, watching how she absorbed the pain, the helplessness of being splayed open for him, of being hurt.
Watched her breathing. The fight to be still, to accept the pain.
Watched herdecideto submit.
They hadn’t turned the plug on the night before, but he reached to the side and turned it on with his phone, and then he groaned, feeling it through the inner wall.
Only when he’d had his fill of watching did his thrusts turn purposeful — deep, driving strokes meant to get him off. No longer just fucking around.
Heh. Sometimes he cracked himself up.
“Vibrating cunt,” he growled, pounding into her harder.
She gritted her teeth, the double stimulation making her pulse race, but she kept her ankles tight in her grip until he finally stiffened, pulling out to spill across her stomach.
“Open your mouth, fucktoy.” He scooped the mess onto his finger and wiped her tongue with it.
Over and over, back and forth, like she was a little bird, opening, accepting, swallowing. Her gaze on him the entire time.
“Good girl.” He slid the egg back into her, turned the plug off, and bent to give her a kiss, all tongue and dominance, the kind that signals possession more than tenderness, and then headed for the bathroom with a casual, “Dismissed.”
He hadn’t been sure about that order,dismissed, but Kenny was right — it was an easy way to let her know he was finished with her and needed to get ready for work now.
* * * *
Willow brushed her teeth until the mint taste drowned out the tang of both Kenny and Boone’s jizz, brushed her hair and put it into a ponytail, and washed her face.
She stopped in the hallway to put the same dress on, since she had no idea where her duffel was.
Someone, probably Kenny, had set out what she’d need in the kitchen. A wide mixing bowl for eggs, a pan for bacon, another for the scrambled eggs, a sharp paring knife laid neatly beside the bag of potatoes. No rummaging through drawers, no hunting for pans.
It’d been incredibly thoughtful.
She pulled what she needed from the refrigerator and went to work. Bacon first, potatoes diced and ready to fry in the leftover grease, eggs whisked with milk until frothy. The rich, comfortable scent of breakfast filled the kitchen.
By the time Kenny and Boone came down, plates were ready and coffee poured. She served them first, then took her own seat.
Gently, becausedamnshe was sore — and the egg and plug inside her weren’t helping.
Kenny cut into his eggs. “How are you holding up?”
He wasn’t asking it as a social question, so she considered the honest answer. “It’s a lot, but your instructions are clear, Sir. It isn’t impossible, it’s just overwhelming.” She smiled. “I’m not ready to run screaming, though the reality of it is… I’ve already said it’s a lot, and it is, but I’m looking forward to surviving to the end of the trial period before I decide what I might want in my life moving forward, Sir.”
