“Yes, I remember—they seemed really nice.” Sammi smiled and then winced, putting her fingers to her temples. “I’m really sorry to pass on the cupcakes, but I think I feel one of my headaches coming on and you know if I don’t go lay down in a dark place and try to head it off it’s going to be just awful.”
“Oh, you poor thing.” Meg frowned sympathetically. “Of course I understand. Go on and go lay down now and try to feel better. I’ll see you later.”
“Thanks for understanding.” Sammi said, smiling gratefully.
She felt guilty for lying to her friend but she was getting desperate to relieve the growing sexual itch caused by the breast harness and the bonding fruit ointment. It hadn’t been so bad when Roark had first put it on her—maybe because she’d had two intense orgasms just before he did. But her sexual desire had had plenty of time to build since then and she was sure she was going to explode if she didn’t get to go back to her own suite and masturbate soon.
She hugged Meg goodbye—carefully so as to avoid more friction between the sweater and her sensitive nipples—and beat a hasty retreat to her own place.
Sammi had barely shut the door before she was ripping off the sweater and groping between her legs. Despite her earlier promise to herself, it was Roark’s image that rose to her mind’s eye as she began desperately rubbing her swollen pussy.
She tried to push him out of her head, but it was useless. Those pale, intense eyes, his long fingers stroking her, his deep voice telling her how he would test all his prototypes on her and most of all his dark, spicy, wild scent were all Sammi could think about as she came…and then came again and again and again.
Seventeen
“How many times did you masturbate last night, Samantha?”
Roark’s question, asked in a matter-of-fact tone, caught Sammi completely by surprise.
“I…I’m sorry? What?” she asked blankly.
Roark looked up from his examination of her nipples—which were tight and pink from the stimulation of the harness—not to mention the fact that she’d been touching them last night while she got herself off, Sammi thought, feeling guilty.
Her boss had insisted on examining her first thing, as soon as she walked into the office and Sammi hadn’t even protested. Instead, she had followed him into the back room of the lab, taken off her top, and laid down on the padded exam table with her feet in the stirrups so he could see how the breast harness was affecting her.
“I said, how many times did you masturbate?” Roark repeated, raising an eyebrow inquiringly. “Your nipples appear like they’ve been manipulated quite a bit—were you stroking them while you fingered yourself?”
In fact, that was exactly what Sammi had been doing—not that she wanted to admit it.
“How dare you ask me that?” she demanded, starting to sit up. “That’s personal!”
“Not anymore, I’m afraid,” Roark said dryly. “Don’t forget, I’m trying to measure your desire. If you felt the need to touch yourself, it’s a good sign the breast harness is doing its job. So if you did masturbate, I need to know it—and how many times.”
Sammi bit her lip. When he put it that way, she felt guilty about not giving him the data he was looking for.
“Well,” she muttered and cleared her throat. “I, uh…two or three times. That’s all.”
Roark raised an eyebrow again.
“Which was it? Two or three?”
“Four, all right?” Sammi snapped, her cheeks burning. “But I couldn’t help it! It’s this damn bonding fruit ointment again—it’s making my nipples so sensitive I can’t help but get turned on!”
“Of course.” Roark put a hand on her arm soothingly. “Please don’t ever feel embarrassed about admitting your desire to me, Samantha,” he said softly. “It’s a perfectly natural reaction—the reaction I’m specifically trying to elicit—and besides, there is no shame in relieving your sexual needs.”
“Well, there is shame in most human cultures,” Sammi muttered. “It’s certainly not something we talk about in polite company.”
“This is not ‘polite company’,” Roark reminded her. “This is a laboratory setting and the more honest and accurate you are with me, the better our eventual results. Just think of all the childless women out there—women who want to have a lot of children, like you said you do yourself—who can’t and need our help.”
“You make it sound like a truly noble cause,” Sammi remarked, looking at him in surprise.
“It is,” Roark said earnestly. “Which is why I need your help. I can’t test these prototypes out on myself.”
“I guess not,” Sammi said grudgingly. “Well…what’s next?”
“I’ll attach the nipple caps—though first we’d better get that bonding fruit ointment off your nipples,” Roark said. He reached for the purple molecular wand with the glowing purple marble at its tip but Sammi flinched away from it.