Free Professional Sin by Cleo Peitsche Page A

in all his wonderful subtleties: tangy, salty, sweet, musky.  
    Maybe I can’t blow him the way he deserves, but I make sure not to spill a drop of his gift.
    Slade doubles over me, his hips moving almost independently of the rest of his body, which is rigid, damp.
    He grunts as he comes inside me. My face is burning hot, and my legs tremble uncontrollably for several moments.
    “On the floor,” Hawthorne says gently.
    The three men stand over me, their naked cocks spent and softening quickly.  
    “Lick us,” Hawthorne says with a growl.
    I start with him, my fingers digging into his soft pants because I’m too weak to hold myself up otherwise. He tastes delicious, and I lap up every drop of his come.
    Next is Slade, but he’s a little too sensitive, and after a few moments, he pushes me away with a sigh.
    Romeo’s cock has softened enough that I think… Yeah, I can. I take all of him into my mouth, and I close my eyes as I suck him. Even like this, he’s still uncomfortably big.
    “Yeah,” he says. “Feels good, lover.”
    Somehow, I decide, I’m going to find a way to deep throat him.
    Already, an idea is forming, and I file it away as something to investigate online.

Chapter 10

    My hands shaking, I fix my panties, which are pretty much ruined; there’s only so much stretching they can take, apparently. I hope the same isn’t true for my nether regions.
    The men are tucking themselves away, straightening their rumpled clothes. I watch in silent despair as Romeo tosses my bra into the trash.  
    “Where are your car keys?” Hawthorne asks.
    “In my desk.”
    “I’ll take you home. We’ll bring your car later,” he says.  
    A look passes between Romeo and Slade, and my heart nearly stops beating.
    Hawthorne is the only one who would take pleasure from giving me my pink slip. Oh, I have no doubt that they’re all capable of it, but Hawthorne cares the least. It will be easiest for him.
    Maybe this is the end.
    My shoulders tighten with worry, and my mouth works, but no sound comes out.  
    Slade is looking at his phone, his brow creased. Romeo is busy tying the laces of one of his enormous, shiny dress shoes.
    They aren’t looking at me.
    “Lindsay,” Hawthorne says from the door. “Are you coming?”
    Glumly, I gather my things and follow him outside. He’s got his hands in his pockets, and he’s whistling lightly. That should put me at ease, but Hawthorne takes pleasure in punishing and hurting me, so his carefree demeanor only serves to stress me out even more.  
    He doesn’t go for a chauffeured car, and instead unlocks a gorgeous sedan. It’s powerful and dark and quietly imposing, just like its owner.
    He gets the door for me before sliding into the driver’s seat. As he pulls out of the garage, I try to imagine what I could possibly say to make things better.  
    “So you know, I don’t think you’ve told us everything,” he says as he drives.
    “I…” My mind is so busy working on the problem that I don’t immediately realize he’s going in the wrong direction. Maybe he wants to talk or something. I don’t say anything because the longer I have to change his mind, the better.
    “You did a stellar job at the meeting,” he says as he pulls into the parking lot of an enormous shopping center.  
    “So I’m not fired?”
    He gives me a strange look. “We wouldn’t actually fire you because you didn’t suck Romeo’s dick.”
    He has no way of knowing I overheard them in the conference room, but it sounds like I’m in the clear, so I just nod.
    He parks the car right at the curb, in the loading zone, and puts on the hazards. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he says, and he disappears inside the store.
    I watch women with overflowing carts push out of the exit, and other women with empty carts go in. This isn’t the sort of place frequented by people like Hawthorne.
    My mind races, trying to figure out what he’s getting. Not food. Definitely not clothes. Pens?