Page 101 of House Rules

“Yes, sir.”

He lets me breathe for a few more seconds, then slides back in. My head dangles over the table, and all I can feel is the relentless fullness in both ends and the intensity of their gaze.

And it hits me—howseenI am. How watched. How desired.

Someone’s hands run up my thighs, spreading me wider. Fingers trail from my pussy to my ass, tapping the plug, then move to my clit.

“I don’t know if this counts as punishment,” Atticus mutters. “She’s already dripping. I think she likes it.”

A sharp slap lands directly on my clit, and I jolt.

“Don’t worry, Kitten,” he adds with a laugh. “When it’s my turn, you’ll get plenty more.”

Maverick withdraws, letting me breathe. He rests his cock against my lips.

“We’re adding a little twist, firebird,” he says. “I control your breath. You control your orgasm. If you come, you lose. If you don’t—maybe we keep you.”

Before I can react, he’s in my throat again.

Then I hear it—a soft mechanicalbuzz.

“Con thinks you took the contract under false pretenses,” Maverick continues, his voice dark with amusement. “We don’t need a girl who’s not sensitive. We’re going to fix that.”

The vibrator touches the inside of my knee, trailing upward, teasing.

It’s sweet torture.

When it reaches the top of my thigh, it disappears, only to start again on the other leg.

The anticipation is agony.

I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t stop the way my body reacts.

Maverick pulls out and lets me get a few deep breaths in before sliding his cock back into my mouth. This time, I decide to embrace it instead of fighting or just accepting it. Keeping my hands flush on the table, I massage the tip of his cock with my tongue, cheeks hollowing as I suck him deeper.

“Fuck,” Maverick says, and I feel him bend over a little bit, his hand now next to mine on the table. “Even with me all the way down her throat, she’s still managing to suck. Guys, we need to make this work. I don’t want to let this one go.”

“If she earns her place, then she’ll stay,” Con says—or at least, I think it’s Con. My head is spinning.

It’s spinning from more than just oxygen deprivation. It’s the adrenaline, the fear, the need to prove myself in the sickest, most exhilarating game I’ve ever played.

The vibrator moves from the top of my thigh straight to my clit, and my entire body jumps. The pressure builds in my core as whoever holds the toy draws small circles over my clit, then touches it to the plug they’ve left in my ass.

The contact makes my back arch. It’s too much—too sharp and electric—but not enough to make me stop. I don’t want it to stop.

Feeling the plug vibrate deep inside me is incredible. It feels like every piece of me is humming—like I’m wired to a live current pulsing through me. Then it moves back to my clit, and I’m back to the edge—that maddening, aching edge where the orgasm trembles just out of reach.

I don’t know if it’s because my head is spinning or because I genuinely like feeling all of their attention on me—or the evil little vibrator—or even the way my ass is being stretched, but I feel euphoric. I feel wanted. Like I’m finally the center of somethingthat doesn’t want to break me just to leave me behind.

Like I belong. Right here. On my knees, on this table, in their hands.

“She’s holding on surprisingly well,” Atticus says with atskingsound in his voice, like he’s just a little disappointed.

Of course he is. He’s the one who sets expectations too high just to savor the moment someone fails.

I will not fail. I can’t.

“You’ll have your turn,” Maverick says, hips rocking as he fucks my throat.