A Hotwife At The Club by Wilde Cyra

Author:Wilde, Cyra
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2023-02-24T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter five

The Making Of A Hotwife

I’m enjoying the shoulder massage when Logan swats my already tender butt.

Oww, what the hell? I spin around.

“Sorry, princess,” he says with a cheeky grin. “Just couldn’t resist. Your ass is so red and beautiful.”

“Then stop staring at it.” Yeah, I can afford a little sass now that the whole scary shit is over.

His eyes zero in on my full, heavy breasts. “Mmm, I don’t mind watching these bounce either.” He flicks his thumb over one of the aching tips.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, give me something to bounce on.

Zane pulls me in his arms and strokes my disheveled hair. “Next time, we could try one of the front positions.”

Something in the recesses of my mind tells me there’ll be hurdles to go through before we can consider a ‘next time.’ But I’m too distracted to process it.

My hormones are raging. Every inch of my flushed, naked body is yearning for attention. I want these hot, virile men to keep touching me, to ease the furious throbbing in my clit.

“Sir …” I glance over my shoulder at Zane.

He arches a brow.

“May I please have my reward now?” It’s about damn time for a ride to Poundtown.

He smirks. “Think you’ve earned it?”

Yes. I took my punishment like a good girl.

“I think she’s ready for a spin,” Logan says.

A spin? Before I can ask, Zane scoots me up bridal-style and carries me toward the center of the room.

The lighting is so dim I almost miss it. But unless my mind is playing tricks on me, there’s a man in a burgundy tuxedo sitting in a corner with one of his legs crossed over the other. His face is hidden behind a Venetian gold skull mask. Creepy. Has he been here the whole time?

My brain clues me in. The ‘friend’ who came in earlier. The guy hasn’t spoken a word. I know nothing about him. He’s seen me naked, crying with my ass in the air and my cunt exposed.

The old me would’ve freaked out. But Sophie Fierce doesn’t give a damn. All she is after right now is that reward.

Zane sets me down in front of the grand swing. “We call it The Screamer. Want to know why?”

“I’m about to find out, I guess.”

He palms one of my breasts, then growls. “I knew there’s a little vixen in you.”

“And you brought her out, Sir.”

He gives me a SMACK on my ass. “Sit down.”

I keep my lips pressed together instead of responding with something like, ‘Ouch, that hurts. Do it again,’ and ease my butt on the cool leather swing.

Holy shit. We’re going to do it here? Two ceiling hooks. Stainless steel frame. Heavy duty chains. Thick and wide leather straps.

“Don’t worry,” Zane says. “This thing can hold eight-hundred pounds. And it’ll be a lot more fun than the bench.”

What’s the combined weight of the three of us, I wonder? And what’s Logan doing?

As Zane straps me up again, I take the opportunity to admire his chiseled face and steely muscles.

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