Un-Hate Me (Enemies to Lovers Romance) (DOM for Hire Book 3), Hazel Parker [ebook smartphone .TXT] 📗

Oh, God, who would be the men who have questions by this point?

“No.”

Anything to get you the hell out of here so I can just get to fucking business.

“Great, take your time.”

As if.

Now I was left wondering how often dudes came in here ready to burst, only to have to take an hour just to approach orgasm after hearing hot sex reduced to something like a high school lab report. Fucking awful.

The door shut, and even though I knew what I wanted to do, I still felt awkward in the room. I knew there were no cameras but it felt so…wrong. I loved pussy, I loved sex, I loved getting it on anywhere and anytime, but there was a huge difference between being a sex fiend and a creepy pervert and having to unzip my pants so I could stroke myself in a sterile doctor’s office.

And then I thought about the guys who might had missed their cups and landed some on the floor, and now I just wanted to fucking die and go home. Five million? I already had something like eight million in the bank; why the fuck did I subjugate myself to this shit?

“OK, just get it the fuck over with,” I muttered to myself.

I leaned back on a table and unlocked my phone and opened a video I had saved, which was indeed lesbians from Brazil and Japan getting it on. Or, perhaps better said, two girls from Brazil and Japan who had put on a show for me. We’d all agreed to record it so long as no one ever leaked it. So far, so good. In theory, given that that was one of the best sexual encounters I’d ever had in my life, it should have gotten me rock solid and ready to pump and finish.

But…

Well, it did get me hard. I could give it that much. And when they started to get naked, the pants came off and the rubbing happened.

But I couldn’t maintain it.

For whatever fucking reason, arguably the hottest sexual encounter of my life was now involving me rubbing one out, staying somewhat hard, but not to the point where I could feel the point of no return hitting. I…I couldn’t…

Fucking Emily.

I knew it as soon as the thought came to mind. All this porn in the world, even one shot with two beautiful, exotic women that I would later fuck for their own phones, wouldn’t do it for me. I might not have been able to admit it out loud, or even to myself in my mind, but it sure fucking seemed like I had a thing for Emily that was suddenly causing me to go very stiff.

I let my imagination run. I was in her room, her naked body splayed out before me. I took off my shirt and unbuckled my pants. I kept my boxers on, but only because the slow reveal was at my pace. She looked up at me, her curvy breasts begging for me to come and suckle on them. I raised an eyebrow in excitement.

“You like what you see?” I said. “Wait until you feel this.”

I imagined myself dropping my boxers. In real life, I could feel that first initial tension—the early warning sign that orgasm was imminent. I imagined myself walking over to Emily, my cock erect and proud. She smiled, sat up, grabbed it with one hand, and wrapped her lips around it. She—

“Oh!”

In real life, I was at the point of no return. I hurriedly found the cup, positioned it just at the tip of my dick, and barely got it there in time for the first rope of cum. I closed my eyes as I stroked furiously, trying to get everything in while thinking about Emily’s plump lips sucking me off. Oh, it was fucking incredible.

…fucking incredible that the mere thought of Emily first putting her lips around me, let alone doing anything else, had managed to work its wonders.

And now, as I slowly came to, I realized just what the hell I’d found myself in. I had my pants around my ankles, I was leaning against a medical bed, one hand was holding a cup, one hand was holding my dick, and in short time, I’d be getting paid five million dollars and a collector’s car for this ridiculous, business transaction.

I sat up, feeling a bit sheepish, and put the lid on the cup. I looked for tissue nearby and used it to clean myself as best as I could. I checked the identifying information on the cup, confirmed its accuracy, and slid it onto a tray.

“Jesus Christ,” I said. “Most bizarre shit I ever did.”

I walked to the door, pausing to make sure I had zipped, buckled, and fit everything back on properly. I already felt like a creep having done all this, last fucking thing I needed was to walk out and have the receptionist point out that I hadn’t zipped my pants or something stupid like that.

When I did that, I walked out, stopped at the receptionist desk, and she smiled at me like I’d just come in to get an earache checked out.

“You’re all set. Thanks for coming in.”

Christ. To say that I was glad this was over was an understatement; given the chance to do it again, I probably would have chosen a run-in with Snake or pirates in Somalia instead.

I gave a curt nod, kept my head down, and hurried the hell out of the clinic. If I never had to go through something like that again, my life would be better for it. God bless the men who donated sperm on the regular.

I got to the hallway that hosted the clinic and a few other places. I found the stairs, jogged down the two flights,