Page 70 of Crushing Clover

“I don’t want to do this,” I whispered to Lucky.

“I know.”

When Rush gave me a pointed look, I complied. I had a soft spot for Lucky, but Rush was the one who had disobeyed Saint and given me an orgasm. In this sex-steeped environment, with uncertain access to orgasms, it made me far less loyal to Lucky than I should have been.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he assured me. “I’ll get even with you later.”

Damn it. There was no winning.

Lightly, I stroked his cock. For the first few moments, he looked like he wanted to crawl out of his skin. Rush was evil for making me do this.

When Lucky squeezed his eyes shut, and he strained himself against my hand, trying to increase the friction I was giving him, I let go, worried about getting in trouble. Instead, I ran my nails up and down his shaft, watching in fascination as it strained and danced for me, his piercings catching the light. Lucky groaned. The sound shot through me and went straight to my pussy. I clenched my thighs together and shifted, trying to ease my own discomfort as I made his worse.

“Fuck, Clover—please wrap those pretty lips around my cock and suck,” he demanded. The vibrator in his ass hummed to life, and I watched in fascination as he shifted and whimpered, his gaze pleading for mercy.

I leaned close, not touching him with my lips, but letting my breath caress the head of his cock.

“Ugh! You evil little cunt!” Lucky bellowed, trying to stab at my face with his straining cock, but he couldn’t move. A laughcaught in my throat, but I held it back. This situation wasn’t funny, but the fact that he was getting so angry with me was making me nervous. Maybe a small part of me enjoyed how powerful this was making me feel, but I didn’t want him to know that.

He made an almost inhuman sound of frustration, and Rush paused in what he was doing and chuckled. “You really are an evil little thing, aren’t you?”

I jerked back, and Lucky cursed. “Bring that mouth back here, woman.”

“I’m not evil,” I insisted, worried, looking at Rush. “I’m doing what you told me to.”

He snorted like he didn’t believe me. “You’ve done this before.”

I shook my head. “No. I don’t like making people suffer.”

“Did I tell you to stop?”

“No, sir.”

I dragged my tongue over the tip of Lucky’s cock, making him sweat and arch, and easing back when the plug began to vibrate.

By the time Saint emerged from his bedroom, Lucky was a mess—panting, swearing, whining. I wasn’t in much better shape, covered in sweat from the work I’d been doing and with pre-cum smeared on my chin and the tip of my nose. The ache in my lower belly was torturous.

“Food almost ready?” Saint asked, ignoring us.

“Five more minutes,” Rush replied, stirring whatever was in the wok while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on us. “Stop now, Clover.”

I stopped, feeling horrible when Lucky lost his fucking mind, begging and sobbing. Fuck, I wanted to finish him off. Leaving him like this, to suffer through dinner, and possibly overnight, seemed unnecessarily cruel. Even though I’d been the oneworking him over, my own body was rebelling at the idea of sitting down to a meal when all it wanted was an orgasm.

“Think you can get up there?” Rush asked as he pulled plates out of the cupboard.

“Up where?” I asked, my brain not firing on all cylinders.

“Do you think you can get up onto Lucky’s lap and fuck him until he comes?”

Fuck, yeah.

I nodded even though I had a feeling it would be precarious.

“She’s too close to getting off,” Saint grumbled. “If you let her fuck him, she’s going to come, too.”

“Well, I want him to get off before dinner, and my hands are full. Unless you want to do the job yourself, what’s the big deal?”

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