Read Enlightened [Sexual Magic 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) for Free Online Page A

contracted, fingers moving to stroke and circle her clit. As soon as she touched the oversensitive flesh, her lower body exploded, and she started coming hard.
    Take the nipple clamps off. Now!
    While her orgasm roared through her, Emma continued fucking the plastic dick, reached up, and released both clamps at once.
    “ Fuck !” she yelled as the blood rushed back into them, pricking her skin with unbelievable pain followed immediately by another ultra-strong orgasm and incredible pleasure. Her hips whipped hard and fast, short, erratic pulls that had the circumcised head of the dick popping in her pussy with ferocity. The sensation kept her coming.
    Finally, nipples sore, pussy exhausted, and body drenched in sweat, Emma pulled herself from the dildo, groaning as it reluctantly released from her body.
    She took a step and stumbled, grabbing for the vanity’s edge. Damn. Her weak legs shook hard with the aftereffects.
    Sinking onto the floor, she leaned back, staring in amazement at the dildo protruding so obscenely from the shower door.
    “Damn,” she said, “that was fucking amazing.”
    The dildo remained silent, glistening in the soft light of her bathroom bulbs.
    Emma shook her head, rose unsteadily, and patted the slick dick. “After that, I think I’ll call you Lorenzo.”
    Still giggling at herself, Emma half walked, half stumbled into the bedroom. She gulped another long, grateful splash of wine, then collapsed facedown on the bed.
    She squinted at the bedside clock and smiled.
    Only eight thirty and already she’d had more orgasms than in the previous week.
    This was going to be a fun weekend. She wasn’t going to let anything interrupt it.
     
    * * * *
     
    Monday evening, Griff parked his car in front of the row of two-story apartment buildings indicated on the address Clarissa had provided. The brick building was half-covered in ivy that crept up the walls in an ordered, well-trimmed diamond pattern. The shutters were real wood, painted glossy black, and the balconies sported intricate wrought iron.
    “Classy joint,” Mason said.
    Griff nodded and slammed the door shut. He checked his watch. Almost seven p.m. “She should be home by now.”
    Also in the portfolio had been a brief overview of Emma’s occupation—graphic artist at an up-and-coming ad agency—her habits, known likes and dislikes, friends, what kind of car she drove, and where she shopped.
    All part and parcel of being selected by the Council for a sexual intervention, but Griff often felt uncomfortable with all the information gleaned. Almost as if he was a stalker by proxy. None of their clients ever complained, though.
    He tugged up the collar of his leather bomber jacket, the bite of the wind cold and tinged with frozen mist.
    They headed up the sidewalk and toward her building. Each stairwell was protected from the elements, and likely unwelcome solicitors, by a heavy wooden door. A small metal speaker system was embedded in the wall beside the door, each occupant’s last name listed next to a small buzzer.
    He found Emma’s name and pressed the button. “Charles?” Through the static of the intercom, the female voice was wary and taut.
    The door opened, and a blond man pushed out between them, a dark look on his face.
    Griff ignored him and bent lower to the speaker. “Emma Haskins?”
    “I got the door, let’s go. She’s in apartment 214,” Mason said.
    Griff looked over his shoulder and caught the sudden, odd stillness of the man who’d barreled through them.
    The man stared at them for a moment, then smiled and nodded before moving along the sidewalk.
    “Yes, this is Emma Haskins,” came the tinny voice. “Who’s there?”
    He didn’t want to scare her by suddenly appearing on her doorstep. “My name is Griffin King, Miss Haskins. I’d like to speak to you about your friend, Joel.” It was a calculated gamble, and he hoped she wouldn’t press for details until they were face to face.
    “Joel? Is he okay?