The conference room smelled like stale coffee and lemon polish, the kind of scent that clung to the back of your throat after too many hours under fluorescent lights. You adjusted the hem of your blazer, fingers brushing the smooth fabric of your pinstripe pants—tight enough to make your ass look like it was begging for attention, but professional enough to pass for court. The door creaked open, and in walked Ethan.
His dark green eyes locked onto yours before he even shut the door behind him. A slow, knowing smirk tugged at his lips. "Camille," he said, voice low, rough around the edges like he’d just woken up. "Didn’t realize your dad’s firm was handling my case."
You leaned back in your chair, crossing one leg over the other. "Small world. How’s Richard doing?"
"Same as always. Still thinks he’s the best chef in the city." Ethan dropped into the seat across from you, rolling up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt. The fabric strained slightly over his forearms, veins just visible under the skin. "Speaking of, he’d kill me if I didn’t invite you over for dinner. His lasagna hasn’t gotten any less obscene since you last had it."
You laughed, tilting your head. "Obscene, huh?"
His gaze flicked down to the low V of your blouse, then back up. "You know what I mean."
The restaurant was packed when you arrived, the kind of place where the air hummed with the clatter of plates and the rich, garlicky scent of simmering sauces. Ethan led you through the kitchen, nodding at the line cooks, before ducking into a private dining room in the back. A single table was set, candles flickering between two plates of steaming pasta.
"You didn’t have to do all this," you said, but your stomach betrayed you with a quiet growl.
He pulled out your chair, fingers brushing the small of your back as you sat. "I did. You’ve been working too hard. Law school’s a bitch."
You arched a brow. "And how would you know?"
"Because I’ve seen the way you bite your lip when you’re thinking too hard." His thumb traced the edge of his wine glass, slow and deliberate. "And the way you tap your pen against your teeth when you’re annoyed."
Heat crawled up your neck. "You’ve been watching me."
"Guilty." He didn’t look sorry.
Dinner was… intense. The food was good—too good, really, the kind of meal that made you want to lick the plate clean. But the way Ethan watched you, like he was memorizing the way your lips wrapped around the fork, the way your throat moved when you swallowed, made it hard to focus on anything else.
By the time you finished, your skin felt too tight, your pulse thrumming between your legs.
Ethan stood, offering his hand. "Come on. I’ll drive you home."
You hesitated. "Or… we could go back to your place."
His fingers tightened around yours. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
His apartment was sleek, all dark wood and leather, the kind of place that screamed 'bachelor pad' without being tacky. You kicked off your heels by the door, the cool hardwood a relief against your bare feet.
Ethan poured two glasses of whiskey, the ice clinking against the glass. "Movie?"
"Sure." You settled onto the couch, the fabric rough against the backs of your thighs. He queued up some action flick, the kind with explosions and bad one-liners, but neither of you were really watching.
You were too aware of him. The way his thigh brushed yours when he shifted. The way his fingers drummed against his knee, restless. The way his breath hitched when you crossed your legs, the slit of your dress riding up just enough to tease.
Halfway through the movie, you excused yourself to the bathroom. The hallway was narrow, the walls lined with framed photos—Ethan with his dad, Ethan in a cap and gown, Ethan looking unfairly good in a tux.
And then you saw it.
The door to the guest room was ajar, just enough to catch a glimpse of something… interesting. You pushed it open wider.
There, in the middle of the room, was a saddle. Not the kind you put on a horse—the kind you rode. Thick leather straps, a padded seat, and a gleaming, silicone cock jutting up from the base. Your breath caught.
A sex machine.
You bit your lip to keep from laughing. No wonder the door was closed.
You grabbed the toilet paper from the bathroom and hurried back to the living room, trying to school your face into something neutral.
Ethan glanced up. "Everything okay?"
"Oh, yeah." You sat back down, tucking your legs beneath you. "Just… curious. What’s with the saddle in your guest room?"
His face went slack. "You saw that?"
"You mean the *fuck machine*?" You grinned. "Yeah, I saw it."
He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "My friends thought it’d be funny. I haven’t even used it."
"Yet."
His eyes darkened. "Yet."
You leaned in, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him. "I want to try it."
His breath hitched. "Camille—"
"Come on." You traced a finger down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch. "It’s just a toy. What’s the worst that could happen?"
He exhaled sharply. "You’re gonna kill me."
"Maybe." You stood, holding out your hand. "So? You gonna show me how it works?"
The guest room was colder than the rest of the apartment, the air thick with the scent of leather and something musky—like sex, but not quite. The machine loomed in the center of the room, intimidating and obscene.
Ethan flipped on the light, his movements stiff. "It’s… adjustable. Speed, angle, vibration."
You ran your fingers over the saddle, the leather cool against your skin. "And the dick?"
He cleared his throat. "Also adjustable. Size, texture."
You turned to him, biting your lip. "Show me."
His jaw tightened, but he stepped forward, kneeling beside the machine. He adjusted the settings with quick, efficient movements, the silicone cock twitching as he increased the vibration. Your pussy clenched at the sight.
"Get on," he said, voice rough.
You hesitated, then reached behind you, fingers fumbling with the zipper of your dress. Ethan’s hands were there in an instant, brushing yours aside. His fingers were warm, calloused, as he dragged the zipper down, the fabric parting to reveal the lace of your bra.
"You’re sure about this?" he murmured, his breath hot against your shoulder.
You turned, letting the dress pool at your feet. "I’ve never been more sure of anything."
His eyes raked over you, lingering on the swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips, the damp lace between your thighs. "Fuck."
You stepped out of the dress, kicking it aside. "Help me up?"
He didn’t need to be told twice. His hands gripped your waist, lifting you onto the saddle with ease. The leather was cold against your bare skin, the silicone cock pressing insistently against your pussy.
Ethan handed you the remote. "Start slow."
You pressed the button.
The vibration was immediate, intense, the silicone cock pulsing against your clit. You gasped, fingers digging into the leather straps for support. "Oh fuck."
Ethan’s eyes were glued to where the machine met your body, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Good?"
You nodded, biting your lip as you increased the speed. The cock slid against your entrance, teasing, but not quite penetrating. "More."
He adjusted the angle, the silicone cock nudging at your pussy, slick with arousal. "Like this?"
You whimpered, nodding. "Yes. Fuck, yes."
He pressed another button, and the cock slid inside you, inch by inch, stretching you open. You cried out, back arching as the machine began to move, fucking you in slow, deep thrusts.
Ethan’s hand found your breast, fingers pinching your nipple through the lace of your bra. "You look so fucking good like this," he growled. "Riding that dick like you were made for it."
You moaned, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure through your body. "Harder."
He obliged, increasing the speed until the machine was pistoning into you, the silicone cock hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over. Your thighs trembled, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
"Ethan—" His name slipped out before you could stop it, your voice breaking.
His eyes snapped to yours, dark with hunger. "Say it again."
You whimpered, the machine driving you closer to the edge. "Ethan, please—"
He didn’t let you finish. In one swift motion, he turned off the machine, the sudden silence deafening. Before you could protest, he lifted you off the saddle, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the bed.
He dropped you onto the mattress, his body covering yours in an instant. His mouth crashed onto yours, his tongue demanding, possessive. You moaned into the kiss, your hands tangling in his hair as he ground his cock against you through his pants.
"Fuck, Camille," he growled, breaking the kiss to trail his lips down your neck. "You’re so fucking wet."
You arched into him, your pussy aching with need. "I need you inside me."
He didn’t make you wait. His fingers hooked into the waistband of his pants, shoving them down along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.
You reached for him, wrapping your fingers around his shaft, stroking him from root to tip. He groaned, his hips jerking into your touch. "Fuck, that’s good."
He pushed your hand away, pinning your wrists above your head. "My turn."
His mouth found your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple before sucking it into his mouth. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as pleasure shot straight to your core.
His fingers slid between your legs, finding your clit with unerring precision. You cried out, your hips bucking against his hand. "Ethan—"
He chuckled darkly, his breath hot against your skin. "You’re so responsive. I love how wet you get for me."
His fingers dipped lower, sliding inside you with ease. You moaned, your walls clenching around him. "More. I need more."
He obliged, adding another finger, stretching you open. "You want my cock, baby?"
"Yes," you whimpered. "Please."
He pulled his fingers free, lining himself up with your entrance. "Look at me."
You forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze as he pushed inside you, inch by inch, filling you completely. You moaned, your nails digging into his back as he bottomed out.
"Fuck, you feel amazing," he groaned, his hips rolling against yours. "So tight. So wet."
You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. "Move. Please move."
He didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled out almost completely before slamming back into you, his hips snapping against yours with brutal precision. You cried out, your body trembling with each thrust.
His mouth found yours again, his tongue tangling with yours as he fucked you hard and deep. The bed creaked beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each thrust.
You broke the kiss, gasping for air. "Ethan—I’m close—"
He groaned, his pace faltering. "Come for me, baby. Let me feel you come on my cock."
His words sent you over the edge. You cried out, your body convulsing around him as pleasure crashed over you in waves. He followed you over the edge with a guttural groan, his cock pulsing inside you as he came, filling you with his cum.
You lay there, breathless, your bodies still tangled together. Ethan pressed a kiss to your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. "That was…"
"Incredible," you finished for him, a satisfied smile tugging at your lips.
He chuckled, rolling onto his side and pulling you against him. "Yeah. It was."
You traced lazy circles on his chest, your fingers brushing over the smattering of hair there. "So… does this mean I get to try the machine again?"
He groaned, burying his face in your neck. "You’re gonna be the death of me."
You grinned, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "But what a way to go."