Page 93 of Smut Lovers

Chapter Four

The Owl

I lament having to move Raine. In that sauna, barely conscious and coated in streaks of cum and sweat, her legs sprawled and her pussy gaped for me, she was a work of art.

But the Badger, Dr. Derek, is concerned she’s overheating, and I want her sweaty but not sick. The other men offer to help me, but I thank them for indulging me with this and remind them there are four other women who need their attention.

I’m careful with lifting her. I’m not generally a selfish man.

Perhaps I was in my youth, but my father’s poor financial decisions meant I was penniless aside from a two-million-dollar trust fund I couldn’t even access when I graduated law school.

By the time I was 30 and the fund was available, I’d well surpassed that two million on my own, but there were a few bleak years there.

Despite every privilege I had and maintained through the bankruptcy, I’m intimately aware of how quickly the situation can flip.

Like Raine’s situation. My paralegal is an actual god, I swear, and had a full dossier on the woman two hours after I told her the name was Lorraine but goes by Raine, no last name and no additional information other than she was, until recently, an academic.

I don’t know that any of the women deserve to be here, but Raine definitely doesn’t. Yes, she was working in a controversial field, but she did nothing wrong. Her university should have been her family. They should have protected her, and instead, they shunned her.

I may have had an impulsive moment when I received that dossier and made a few phone calls. Usually, I protect people who have done terrible things, but Dean Chapman is not my client, and I can as easily destroy those who have done terrible things.

All that to say I’m not selfish, but the way I pick Raine up is as much to keep her as filthy as possible as it is to be careful and respectful with her.

The tile floor of the locker room is a shock to her system, but a necessary one. She was barely conscious before, but she now takes a big breath and attempts to crawl right out of her skin.

Her slick, sticky, filthy skin.

“Did they prepare you for me?” I murmur as she attempts to take control of herself, but she’s just been fucked for over half an hour.

I did heed the Lion’s advice and gradually raise the temperature so it wouldn’t be too dangerous, but she was already a mess when I entered the sauna ten minutes after the Badger started on her.

That was deliberate. I’m nothing if not punctual, but I had this weird feeling that if they weren’t already on her when I showed up, I was going to get too impatient immediately and shoo everyone out.

But I wanted her like this.

I wanted her whole body streaked with cum. I wanted it on her tits and up the backs of her arms. I wanted it pooled in her navel and clinging to her hair.

I wanted her reeking of sweat and sex.

I wanted her pussy stretched and loose. I don’t even think she knows that they managed to get three cocks inside her.

And everything turned into such a frenzy in there that I don’t think anyone noticed that I had to clean myself off while that was happening.

I wanted to hold myself back, but it was all too much.

The sounds she was making, the crazy way they contorted her body to make just enough space to sandwich the third cock in there — the Cobra’s, but it was such a tight fit that he squealed like a little girl the second her body responded with a clench that had god only knows what spurting out between their bodies.

It was all too much.

She attempts to open her eyes now, but I’m not surprised at how glazed they are, how heavy the lids remain. “Help,” she whimpers. “Help, it burns.”

“It’s cooling you,” I tell her, mimicking the bedside voice of the Badger as best as I can even though my cock had barely a moment of relief after I came on my stomach before it went hard again. “You should relax.”

“It burns!” she cries, still flailing on the tiles, her motions too frantic for the surface to warm from her body heat. She’s making it worse for herself.

I guess the hand I’m easing into her pussy isn’t helping. She’s so loose and slick now I don’t think I’ll need to add any lube.

“You were in the sauna too long. You were overheating. If you don’t let the tiles help you, I’m going to have to jam a rod of ice in your asshole, and you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

Technically, the Badger suggested that as some extra fun, but that’s not quite what I want from her.

“Noooooooooo,” she moans, but the sound becomes a low, meaningless keen as I curl my thumb into the pocket made by my fingers and give one good push.

I moan too as my knuckles meet the minimal resistance by her rim and her cunt engulfs my hand to the wrist.

“Oh, fuck,” I whisper, laying my body alongside hers just to pin my cock between us, the firm, even pressure enough to contain myself. “Do you know what I just did, Raine? Do you know what’s inside you?”

It’s like her final misgiving melts away as I make a fist of my hand just to scoop up as much as possible. Her body goes limp on the floor, all but melting into it, but her eyes remain open. They seek mine, and I have a perverse, fleeting urge to remove my mask.

She would have no idea who I am. There are some men here she may recognize. A prominent state-level politician, a British actor who’s a regular on some popular TV shows. But my entire life is about keeping my clients and therefore myself out of media attention. She wouldn’t recognize me.

No one would know.

But I’m not a rule breaker. I can’t help but be who I am. I bring my face as close as I can to her without bumping her with the mask, allowing her to see my eyes as I twist my hand inside her.

“You are so beautiful,” I murmur.

The flicker in her eyes, in her brow is enough I know she heard me but doesn’t hear those words enough.

But she is. Not in any glamorous way. It’s an easy beauty.

A natural symmetry with a careless spray of freckles, a spark in her eyes even now, a softness where I can see how hard she tries to be resilient.

“And your cunt is so goddamn loose,” I add with a final twist, but I don’t see any irritation this time. Her breathing goes shallow, working hard to keep her balanced. When I pull my hand from her, her eyes roll back for several seconds before locking back to mine.

“You are so beautifully broken, aren’t you, Raine? But you don’t want all this cum inside you. This all belongs to those other men, but you’re mine.”

She swallows in agreement, so I bring that hand up to her neck to smear this handful of cum there and up on the side of her face, wiping my hand clean in her hair.

She actually smiles, I think, so I kiss her other cheek. I like how she looks covered in cum like this, but I don’t actually want it on me.

I repeat the process three more times, fisting her then scooping out what I can. I know this won’t really prevent anything, but that doesn’t matter.

Or, it does. I tell myself it doesn’t matter, but it’s hard to reconcile that with the fact that she could get pregnant with another man’s baby. She could carry another man’s baby in her womb for the next nine months, and I wouldn’t know until the end.

I’m so hard I’m worried my dick is going to spontaneously erupt at any second, but now I’m having thoughts I wasn’t supposed to have here.

I told myself it was fine to do this because I lost my mother so young I don’t remember her, but my father did have those nine months with her.

He’s grieved her my entire life, but is it better to avoid that while missing out on watching my child grow inside of their mother?

The fourth time I fist Raine, she suddenly jolts like I’ve done something different, but I haven’t. She’s just snapped out of whatever state she was in. She pants more loudly and twists against my hand, whimpering and clenching.

“There you are,” I chuckle. “It’s time to mark you, isn’t it?”

Her stilted response of, “I–I need to…fuck…I need to come,” is perfect.

“You gonna stretch nice and wide for me?” I ask as I roll into the space between her legs.

I don’t even have to move her legs around; she lifts them onto my shoulders as I get on my knees.

I could fuck her properly. I know that. But this could be my only opportunity to do exactly what I want to do without having to explain to a one-night stand that, despite my level exterior, I can be a sick fuck.

I push my fist into her yet again, this time honing my vision in on the way her hole stretches, stretches, stretches to engulf me, remaining taut even beyond the widest spot at my knuckles, a perfect sheath. I only pull my hand out halfway this time.

Raine chants gibberish, her hands going up to her head and attempting to push at nothing, like she’s forgotten we’re on the floor of a locker room and not in a bed with a headboard, as I work my fingers into a ring there.

I slide my cock into the ring.

“Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck!” she squeals over and over again as I jerk myself off inside her, fighting against her walls to give my cock plenty of space, flicking my wrist just right that I can hold myself stable in the space between her legs as I rub one out.

It’s hot. I hear all the talk about tight pussies and virgins and the euphemisms, I know that loose is an insult, but this is so goddamn hot.

I’ve done this to her. I’ve orchestrated this. She’s never experienced anything like this before, and I can’t pretend to know what’s been going on in her head, where she went to in the sauna and again on the floor here, but she’s loving it.

I could ruin her pussy every fucking day and never get tired of it.

We could go out on double dates and host formal gatherings and visit the theater.

We could sit across the breakfast table and sip our coffees silently.

We could raise a family, not just one but many, and ask each other how our days were.

We could attend charity events and debate over a kitchen remodel.

And at night, I could shove my entire fist into her wrecked pussy relentlessly. Every night.

“I’m going to come!” Raine gasps, but her voice is nearly gone.

I close my eyes and pretend I’m not deliberately switching to thrusting into my hand and her pussy just so we can come together.