Dirty Filthy Fix: A Fixed Trilogy Novella (Fixed #5.5)(12)

George—whether it was his first name or his last, I wasn’t sure—took his turn sucking on the toe of one of the Doms. Then there was a spin that involved two minutes of spanking. Then a spin and some kissing. Then a spin and a masturbation show.

With each spin, my heart leapt in anticipation, wondering if it would land on me, with that same weight of eagerness that I’d had when I’d played the game as a teenager. And in that same vein of hopefulness, I begged and prayed that fate would allow the game to line me up with the boy I wanted to make out with, that the bottle would give me “seven minutes in heaven” with Nathan Sinclair—or in this case, two minutes in heaven.

But the bottle never landed on me, and it never landed on him, and the odds that it would land on either of us and then the other were so long…

I really should just enjoy the game, enjoy the night with no attachments like I always did. This was the problem with having my eyes set on something in particular. Everything else paled in comparison.

But then finally, one of the cougars spun the bottle and it landed on Nathan.

He drew from the men’s bag. “Crown play,” he read aloud, his eyes on me the entire time, and I swear to God, my mouth watered—actually watered—at the thought of his cock, even just the tip, between my lips.

I’d never been so jealous of a cougar in my life.

“Lucky bitch,” Betsy said, stealing the words from my mouth.

“You better show the goods to all of us, watcher boy. We’ve been waiting,” another woman yelled. A few others joined in, the encouragement from men and women alike. It was part of the game. I was rapt.

“Sure thing,” he said.

I couldn’t look away as he stood, undid his dress pants, pulled them down just far enough for his head to stick out, and then sat down again on the footstool. He was mostly hard—pretty much all the men in the room were at this point. After the activities that had been taking place, it was impossible not to be.

But I couldn’t help wondering, how hard was he because of this party? And how hard was he because of me?

As he had done all night, he kept his eyes trained in my direction as his game partner crawled up between his legs. The hourglass was turned over, the time began, and she took his round thick crown between her lips, sucking, swirling her tongue across the head, teasing him. It was so fucking hot, so erotic to watch her hands dig into his thighs, wishing she had permission to hold onto the base of his cock, knowing she was only allowed to touch the tip. Such a turn-on from a voyeur’s point of view.

I wanted to be her.

But I also didn’t, because I had the better view of his face. Every bit of delight, every twist of pleasure that erupted on his features—I got to see that. And because he never looked away from me, even as his hands tangled in her hair, I felt every one of those details was meant for me.

It made me so hot, I had a hard time not slipping my hand under my dress.

By the time the hourglass had run out, my thighs were slippery and I could smell my own arousal.

“Your turn to spin, handsome,” Betsy said.

Again, I hoped beyond all hope and prayed for the first time in years—my mother would be so pleased, perhaps not with the circumstances, but at least with knowing I prayed. I closed my eyes, unable to watch, but I could hear the spin on the wood floor, the distinctive sound as it rotated and slowed and finally stopped.

And when I opened my eyes, by God, it was pointing right at me.

I hoped that didn’t mean I had to start going back to church.

I stood up with my knees shaking. I was grateful for the long dress to hide them. Carefully, I walked over and slipped my hand into the linen sackcloth and pulled out my directions.

“Nipple play,” I read out loud. Immediately, my nipples beaded into tight peaks, straining against the thin material of my dress. God, I was already so aroused. Now Nathan Sinclair was going to play with my breasts?

There was every chance I was going to come all over him.

Night. Made.

I strutted toward him, intending to sit on his lap, but before I made it there he stopped me.

“Lay on the floor,” he commanded.

I froze, taken a bit by surprise. I hadn’t expected him to be so demanding, and though I was deeply disappointed about not straddling him, I liked this tone.

I did as he said, lying down in the center of the circle and propping my torso up on my elbows. “Shall I undo the top of my dress?” I was eager to be naked for him.

“No need,” he said. And again, I tried not to be disappointed. He’d promised play in the office on Wednesday, and the way he’d looked at me all evening, there was no way he wasn’t as eager to devour me as I was to devour him.

I had to trust him.

“Okay.” I lay down fully on my back and waited.

It seemed like it took forever, but eventually he stood and strolled over next to me. Then he kneeled, and nudged in between my legs.

And I was so, so grateful for the slits in my dress so that I could spread my legs apart and accommodate him.

“Hey,” someone called, “the only thing you’re allowed to touch is her tits.”

“I know.” Just as he’d promised, he didn’t touch me anywhere else when he bent down and sucked one nipple into his mouth.

I heard someone quickly turn the hourglass over, like they’d forgotten to start the timer, and now they were all watching with hushed reverence as Nate slowly teased and taunted my nipple, first with his tongue flicking around in circles, wetting the material of my dress so thoroughly I could feel the dampness through to my skin.