Free Set Loose by Isabel Morin

vortex of pleasure pulling her under. She hovered on the peak for endless seconds and then broke around him with such violence he had to hold her to him. She was still drifting back down when he spread her legs wider and thrust home, burying his face in her neck as his cock pulsed inside her and his big body shook in release.
    Her eyes were still closed, her body boneless, but Cutter had hold of her. His face was still buried in her neck, his cock still inside her. Their hearts beat almost in time, slowing down as the seconds passed. She wanted just a few more minutes breathing in the glorious scents of sex and sweat, a musky combination that should have been indecent. A few more minutes of this intimate, hard-won knowledge of how he felt and looked and sounded.
    He drew back and carefully pulled out of her, making sure the condom didn’t fall off, and Emily lowered her feet to the floor. She stared at his chest, wondering what she’d find when she looked him in the eye, terrified he’d want to pretend none of this had ever happened.
    Then the doorknob rattled as someone tried to get in.
    She and Cutter looked at each other, panicked, as Stan swore on the other side of the door. They stood, barely breathing, until he walked away.
    “We have to get out of here. He’ll probably be back with a key in a matter of minutes,” Cutter said, bending down to retrieve her robe. He held it for her as if he were helping her into her coat. “You go first.”
    “But what about you?” she asked.
    He was bare-chested, his pants down around his chiseled hips. A delectable sight, and one that brought a smile to her lips. Still, she didn’t want anyone else finding him in this state.
    He looked down at himself and smiled ruefully. “Don’t worry, I’ll be dressed in two seconds,” he said, retrieving his shirt from where it hung over a cardboard box.
    Unlocking the door, he stuck his head out and looked around.
    “The coast is clear,” he said, grinning wolfishly at her as he held the door open just enough for her to squeeze through.
    Emily stumbled into the hallway, her legs still weak and trembling. Smoothing her hair back, she pulled her robe more tightly around her and headed for the dressing room. She had to go on once more tonight, and she had a feeling she didn’t have much time to get ready.
    She heard Stan whistling from around the corner and looked back, relieved to see Cutter coming out of the storage closet, his clothes once again intact. His hair was tousled and his color high, but no one would think much of that. His gaze raked her from the tip of her spiked heels on up. His eyes met hers and a slow, devastating smile spread across his face. Then turned and headed onto the floor.
    She was still standing there, breathless, when Stan walked by, key in hand, and opened the closet door.
    Hurrying now, she entered the dressing room and looked at the time. Twelve-thirty. She’d have to hurry to get ready. Unfortunately, Cheryl had just finished her set and was busy fixing her make-up.
    “I guess there’s something between you after all,” she said, turning from the mirror and fixing Emily with a look.
    “There wasn’t when we last talked about it. But yes, there is, though I don’t know what you’d call it.”
    “Don’t you?” Cheryl replied, her voice tinged with bitterness.
    “I’m really sorry, Cheryl. I guess I should have realized you’d be upset. It just all happened so fast…”
    “Forget it.” Cheryl sighed and gave a wan smile. “I had no claim on him. I’m just surprised is all. I’ll get over it. I just hope you know how lucky you are.”
    Emily’s mouth opened but she was at a loss for words.
    Cheryl laughed. “Hurry up, sweetie, you’re on in ten minutes.
    Relieved that Cheryl didn’t hate her, Emily pulled out the costume for her next set and took stock of her appearance. Wild hair, flushed face, swollen lips. Pretty much the look strippers strove for, only she’d come by hers