Swallow it Down

“Oh, we fucked all night. So much fucking. Didn’t you see me walking funny?”

“Jesus, are you in for it, kid.” Pink-cheeked and teasing, Chloe added, “I’d bet tickets he’s breaking you in. Considering the size of his uncut cock, he probably needs to. No reason to damage the merchandise.”

Which wasn’t funny at all.

“You know I’m joking, right? I mean about the damage part. We all agree, and he keeps a tally if we're willing to take that beast the old-fashioned way or down the throat. A little lube, a little wine, and he’ll get it in. Brace, think of England, and let him finish.”

“That is… extremely unsettling. Especially as you are not British.”

Chloe shrugged a pretty, uncovered shoulder. “Britain is gone. As is Japan, the Philippines, South Africa, Alaska… The only way out of this is getting to the Pacific and finding a sailboat to Russia.”

Scientifically speaking, the woman was spot on. The heat melted ice, exposing fertile land. A person just had to cross a radioactive ocean, pay the mafia, sail thousands of miles, and show up old and ready to die.

“Six more nights, and then I won’t have to go back again for at least a handful of months.”

It was the quietest of the women, a practical girl, who asked, “Don’t you like it in there?”

“I liked medical school and my fiancé and my future. No, the fact that he plays music and rubbed my feet doesn’t cut it.”

In chorus, the entire fucking room erupted. “He rubbed your feet?”

“Don’t think he did it out of some kind of… whatever. I outplayed him in a word game. That’s all.”

And with that one flippant reply, half the room turned frostier than a glacier; the other kept staring down at their noodles.

They couldn’t possibly be jealous? “I didn’t fuck him.”

“You should have! Now it’s going to be so much harder for the rest of us!” Brooke—Brooke, who was days away from earning her freedom—shouted.

“I’m sorry?” Not that Eugenia was, but what on earth was someone to say to that?

“Just let him have sex with you. No more of this Joan of Arc shit. We are tired of trying to live up to your crusade! None of us want to whore, all right?”

“You have a choice in who you let into your bodies! Like me, you can refuse.”

The quiet one again, Jessica. “I’ve been here three years. What do you know?”

“I know that he’s told me my debt is twenty-million, and that I would not be able to fuck my way out of that hole even if I tried.”

And that shut up the table but did not stop the squinty-eyed consideration of Joan.

Chapter Seven

There was no music on night two. But there was more wine.

“The girls told me you were going to tie me up and fuck too hard.” She raised her glass but refused to drink. “Apparently, you also have a large penis. I'd love to know how many tickets it cost you to bribe them into making that comment.”

Clinking her glass and taking a sip of burgundy, he asked, “Do you like large dicks?”

“No. I like nice men.”

Hand scrubbing a stubble-free cheek, he said, “Then you’ll be disappointed.”

“You shaved… and you’re dressed practically in a suit. Couldn’t find the jacket?”

That caught him, right with his palm to his outstretched neck.

And the moment was too good to pass up. Eugenia slid closer to stroke where his shirt sleeves were rolled up and a muscular forearm was on display. “And look how pretty you are in a white button-down and slacks. I’ll tell you what, sugar. One fuck for a scented candle, some Chapstick, and five-thousand tickets? I’ll even throw in some foreplay, wine, and music before I grease up the ol’ strap-on and I work it in.”