Overachiever (Slumming It Book 2)

by S. M. Shade

  “Hmm, where to start?” I pick up the fleshlight and lube it generously. “How does this feel?”

  The sudden groan he lets out when I sink it onto his cock is answer enough. Slowly, I raise it and lower it again, reveling in the curses that rain from his lips.

  Okay, this is fun. I get to watch his every reaction and there’s nothing he can do to stop me. This time he’s the vulnerable one. “Will you wear the nipple clamps?” he asks, his gaze on my breasts.

  It’s one of the things he told me he was turned on by, and I chose them because of it, but I’m a little nervous about how much they might hurt. Still, I’m willing to try them.

  He watches as I take them from the package. They’re adjustable, and I turn the little screws until they don’t look quite as intimidating. At the first bit of a pinch, I chicken out, and he chuckles.

  “I don’t think I can inflict these on myself.”

  “Undo my hands just long enough for me to put them on you.”

  It’s the only way this is going to happen. I uncuff him, and he pulls me forward by my hips as he sits up. His mouth covers my right nipple, drawing on it, and I close my eyes at the sensation. Soft, and warm and ow!

  My eyes leap open, and I look down to see the clamp firmly in place. Amused eyes stare into mine. “Does it hurt?”

  “A little…but…in a good way.”

  When his mouth covers my other nipple, I know what’s coming which makes the bite of the metal seem worse, but he soothes it with his tongue. Lying back, he grins up at me with self-satisfaction. “Are you sure you want my hands tied?” He flicks one of the clamps, sending a jolt through me.

  Concentrate, Remee. You’re supposed to be in control. Without a word, I wrap the cuffs back around his wrists. The pressure of the clamps is distracting, but I do my best to ignore it, and I know how to wipe that smirk off his face while he watches me struggle.

  Scooting back down to straddle his thighs, I pick up the butt plug that says HIS and give it a wave.

  “No. No-ho. I do not consent to any butt stuff. Put it down and back away.”

  Giggles spill out of me, and I toss it on the bed beside us. “Fine, but I’m not letting you come until you beg.” He moans as I slip the fleshlight back over him. “And maybe not even then.”

  “Psh, I can take whatever you got, baby.”

  It takes him almost an hour to really regret those words. An hour of me bringing him to the brink over and over, with the fleshlight, the vibrating cock ring, my hands. By this time, he’s covered in sweat, and no longer has any trouble begging for relief.

  “Oh fuck, don’t stop.” His hips work with me, shoving his cock into the fleshlight fast and hard, until I pull it off, and he cries out. “Ugh! I hate you so much right now!”

  “Is that any way to talk to someone you want something from?”

  The desperation in his face does something to me on a primal level I can’t comprehend, but I know I’m going to shatter him all over this bed.

  When I slip the toy over him again, he looks me in the eye. “Please.”

  “I’m going to make you come this time. Slowly. Are you ready?”

  His head falls back on a groan. True to my word, I build him up with leisurely strokes and his babbling when he gets close is something I’d like to have on my phone to listen to every day. It’s glorious.

  “Oh yes, oh please. Remee, it’s so good, please let me come this time, I can’t take anymore…”

  I’ve never been a multitasker. My brain struggles to focus on too many things at a time, but it catches every horrifying memory of the next few chaotic moments.

  Owen shouts, and his entire body stiffens. The expression on his face is pure devastated bliss, and I watch it the entire time, even as sunlight falls across it. Didn’t we close the curtains? Where’s that coming fr—oh no I forgot to lock the door when the maid left!

  Serena, Marty, Graham, and Zara stand in the doorway, mouths agape at the scene before them. It’s like someone dipped the room in liquid nitrogen. We’re all frozen in place for what seems like forever but probably isn’t more than a few seconds.

  Marty’s the first to speak up. “What a horrible day to have eyes.”

  It sinks in that I’m sitting on Owen in nothing but panties and nipple clamps, my hand still wrapped around a fleshlight that’s covering his wilting dick. He can only stare in disbelief, lost for words for the first time ever, while our friends take in the scene. Owen tied and cuffed to the bed, sex toys scattered across the sheet.

  Serena’s the first to move, and her voice is nonchalant. “Sorry, we’ll wait outside.”

  The door closes, and Owen stares up at me. “I don’t think we have to tell them now.”

  Embarrassment isn’t a strong enough word for what I’m feeling right now, but I can’t help it. My body starts to shake, and I laugh until tears form in my eyes. “They—they saw you come,” I point out, trying to catch my breath.

  Owen smirks as I release his hands and reaches up to tweak my nipple. “And they saw your hardware.”

  “We’re never going to hear the end of this.” He sits up after I’ve freed his ankles and covers his face.

  “Just tell me they didn’t notice the HIS and HERS butt plugs.”

  “I’m sure we’ll find out.” My fingers hesitate over a nipple clamp, and Owen grins at me.

  “I’ll do it.” He pinches one end of the clamp, releasing it, and an overwhelming, sharp, stinging pain shoots through my nipple.

  Clamping my hand over it, I yelp, and leap to my feet. “Ow! Fuck! They hurt way more coming off! Owww!” I can hear him chuckling as I bounce from foot to foot like a cartoon character with a match between their toes, my hand massaging my breast.

  “Let me get the other one, Rem.”

  One step in my direction has me retreating. “No!”

  “Are you going to do it?”

  “No.”

  “So, you’re just going to wear one nipple clamp for the rest of your life?”

  “Looks like it.”

  He lunges toward me, and I leap back. “Be reasonable. It’s got to come off. I’ll do it quick, like a band-aid.”

  There’s no reason left in me right now. Owen sprints around the bed, and I scramble across it, but I’m not fast enough. How did this become my life? Being chased around a motel room trying not to lose a nipple while our friends probably listen and laugh from outside.

  Owen drags me back by my feet and straddles my waist. “Sorry, babe, has to be done.” Leaning over, he kisses the top of my breast as his fingers release the second clamp.

  “Ow!” My feet kick against the bed, and he soothes my poor assaulted nipple with his warm tongue.

  “See? All done.”

  “You can throw those damn things away,” I grumble, rolling out of bed and grabbing some clothes. Owen cleans up the toys and gets dressed as well. We’re quiet. Probably lost in the same thought that we have to walk out that door. “What are we going to say?”

  Owen shrugs. “Wasn’t me.”

  “Owen,” I giggle.

  “We’re going to blame it on them for being a whole day early and not knocking.”

  “Alright. I can go with that.” I grab his hand, and he pauses in his walk toward the door. “I’m mortified for the obvious reasons, but I’m not ashamed or embarrassed of us hooking up.”

  A smile bursts across his face, and he drops a quick kiss on the corner of my mouth. “Good, because I don’t plan to stop.”

  “Next time, you’re wearing the nipple clamps.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Owen

  Graham’s SUV is parked next to my truck, and he and Marty lean against the hood. Serena and Zara sit on the curb a few parking spaces away. All eyes are on us when we emerge, and Remee veers away to join the girls.

  Marty barely lets me get within ear shot before starting, “I had no idea you’re a bottom.”

  Graham hides a smile, and I roll my hand at Marty. “Go ahead
, get it out of your system.”

  His voice is high mocking. “I’m not following Remee to Florida to fuck her. We’re just friends. If she happens to tie me to a bed and stick a butt plug up my—”

  “Nobody stuck anything up my ass!”

  “There were two, Owen,” Marty says, dropping his voice to a hush. “Butt plugs. Plural. Remee only has one ass.”

  Graham loses it at that point, and the giggling I hear from behind me tells me Remee’s hearing it from the girls too.

  Holding my chin up, I shrug. “It’s not my fault you guys are prudes who avoid the fun stuff. Kink shamer!” I point to each of them in turn. “Kink shamer! And why the hell are you here early? And also can’t you fucking knock?”

  “We did knock,” Zara says as the girls join us. “The door wasn’t latched all the way and it just swung open and—”

  “Scarred us all for life,” Graham finishes.

  “Okay,” Serena says. “We planned to get you guys, go out to eat, then go to the beach, but after the…”

  “Abomination,” Marty supplies at her hesitation.

  “Events of the morning,” Serena corrects, “I think we need some girl time. We’ll catch up with you guys later.”

  Remee tosses me a sympathetic look, then heads upstairs with them where I assume Serena and Zara have a room.

  The guys stare at me until I suggest, “Bar?”

  “Sounds good,” Graham says.

  “Let’s use Rideshare so we can get trashed. I didn’t come here to stay sober,” Marty adds.

  It looks like they’re going to let the caught being dominated by Remee thing go, but I should’ve known better. As soon as we’re seated with our drinks at an outdoor table within view of the ocean, Marty holds up his beer. “A toast. To never seeing Owen’s orgasm face again.”

  “It looked like that package of marshmallow Peeps that got squished between the car seats,” Graham says, clinking his glass to Marty’s.

  I missed these guys.

  They let the subject drop for a bit while they fill me in on some of the things I’ve missed back at home. It’s the usual. Not as many college parties since most students go home for the summer, but they’ve had some fun. I tell them about the job and the guys at work, then show them the video of Trevor grabbing the nasty dildo and holding it up.

  “He deserved it. You’d hate him. Masculinity as fragile as a dried leaf.”

  “Worse than Marty?” Graham taunts.

  “I don’t have to be an asshole to be confident in my masculinity. I’m master of the pussy. Read those lips like a deaf gynecologist.”

  Marty’s claims bounce off us as usual, and as we get our third beers, Graham focuses on me. “So, are you and Remee together then?”

  There’s never been a question I’ve wanted to say yes to more, but it isn’t true. Not just yet. “We haven’t really talked about it. We’ve just been hanging out, having fun.”

  “Does she know you want something more long term?”

  No, because I’m a chickenshit who’s afraid she’ll put an end to everything if I tell her how I feel. “How do you know that’s what I want?”

  Graham gives me a look and drinks his beer. “Owen, you’ve been crazy for her forever. How did you end up in bed in the first place?”

  “She asked.”

  Both of them stare at me, and I hold my hands up. “I swear. We were sharing a room after I got stuck with a roommate from hell, and she said we should fuck while we’re here. Like a friends with benefits situation.”

  “Then you let her plug your ass,” Marty interjects.

  “No! If she had, you’d know. I would’ve been clinging to the ceiling like a cartoon cat when you burst in. Enough about Remee.” I don’t want to be reminded that she may never want what I do, or that this thing between us could be temporary.

  There’s a part of me hoping that her summer fling thinking has changed. The way she hesitated on whether to tell our friends we’ve been sleeping together didn’t inspire a lot of confidence, but so much does. The way she laughs at my jokes, snuggles in close to me whenever she can, and always smiles when she sees me. The trouble she went through on my birthday to let me meet my favorite scientist, trusting me to tie her up when she’d never done it before, those aren’t things you do for a fling. After our friends leave, I’ll talk to her. I’ll tell her that I don’t want the summer to be the end.

  “How long are you guys staying?”

  “Just for the weekend. It was all the time off we could manage to get,” Marty explains.

  “What do you want to do? Beach?”

  “Yeah,” Graham replies, picking up his phone. “Let’s see if the others have had enough girl time to talk about you. They can meet us.”

  It turns out they’re already at a beach, and after a quick stop by the motel to grab our stuff, we join them.

  I’m glad to see Remee lying on a towel while Serena and Zara are in the water. “Hey.” I drop onto the sand next to her. Marty and Graham walk past us to join the others in the ocean, and Marty makes a whip snapping sound.

  “Don’t. He’s into that. You’ll turn him on,” Graham warns, and I flip them off, then turn to Remee.

  “How did it go for you? Do you need to relocate and change your name?”

  “Nah, I’m a hero. Apparently tying up a guy is totally empowering and feminist according to Zara. And Serena is the least judgmental person in existence when it comes to sex. You could’ve been strung up by your feet, covered in peanut butter, and she wouldn’t have blinked.”

  “Ooh, maybe next time.”

  “How did it go with the guys?”

  “I may need you to tell them that you did not, in fact, do butt stuff to me.”

  Remee giggles and rolls onto her back, shielding her eyes from the sun with her arm. A light sheen of sweat covers her bare stomach. “Yet.”

  “Dream on, Rem. I’m going to go swim before I get hard looking at you in that bikini.” She doesn’t hesitate when I lean over to kiss her.

  “Go on. Play with your friends,” she says, smacking me on the ass.

  We spend most of the day at the beach, and as evening sweeps in, we grab dinner to-go from one of the nearby seafood restaurants. The beach begins to empty as we sit on our towels and eat.

  While Graham and I have had a few beers throughout the day, we’ve sweat them out as we put them in, but Marty is plastered. “I don’t want to go back. I’m just going to live here,” he slurs, chomping on a fish taco.

  “Dibs on his room,” I reply.

  “Keep your deflowered ass out of my room.”

  “For the last time, my ass has not been deflowered. You really need to stop thinking about it, no matter how much my brown eye turns you on.”

  Remee swallows a laugh with her soda when I start humming Billie Eilish’s Bad Guy.

  Serena regards Remee with a smirk. “I can’t believe you didn’t gag him. I’ve never met someone more in need of a ball gag.”

  Serena dodges the wadded up napkin I toss at her. “Not all of us enjoy gagging on balls as much as you. Cut me a break.”

  “All because of a weird sex dream.” Zara shakes her head.

  Remee exclaims, “Zara!” at the same time I shout, “I knew it!”

  She slaps Zara’s arm. “I didn’t tell him.”

  It was clear she was dreaming about me, but I never could get her to tell me about it. “Tell me now.”

  “No! It was weird and embarrassing.”

  Marty laughs and wipes taco sauce from his chin. “I’ve had some fucked up sex dreams. Like, I always dream about that new pop singer, Gloria whoever—I don’t know, but she’s got great tits. My brain won’t let it happen though. Every time I get her naked, there’s a padlock on her pussy or it’s just smooth like a doll.”

  Zara lays her forehead in her palm. “Marty, seriously.”

  “No, really! I tried banging against it, but it was a no go.”

  Graham speaks up. “I had a drea
m about a woman from work a few years ago. I was naked on the bed, she stripped, dove on top of me, then exploded into water like a busted balloon.”

  Remee grins at me as everyone laughs. It’s good to have all our friends together again and to know what we’re doing didn’t make things weird. It’s time to talk to her about becoming more than temporary.

  “Oh! I almost forgot,” Remee exclaims, rifling through her beach bag until she finds a shiny brochure. “I have a surprise for you two.” She passes the brochure to Zara, who opens it and holds it where Serena can see it too in the fading light. “I booked us on a luxury spa day cruise tomorrow. We spend the day on a yacht.”

  Serena beams at her. “Drinking cocktails and getting massages on the deck of a yacht? Yes!”

  “And it has a glass bottom section to watch the wildlife,” Zara adds.

  They exclaim and chatter, planning their day, and I glance at Graham. “Well, I guess we know where we aren’t wanted.”

  Marty leans back on his palms, almost falling when the sand shifts beneath them. “I want to rent a jet ski. You can go get pedicures on a boat.”

  Even drunks have a good idea occasionally. “I know a place we can rent some.”

  With plans made for the next day, we head back to the motel. Marty and Graham are sharing a room next to Zara and Serena’s. As they go upstairs, Marty can’t resist a parting shot. “Go easy on him tonight, Remee!” he calls from the second level, while I’m unlocking the door to our room. “He has to be able to sit on a jet ski tomorrow!”

  Giggling, Remee tilts her head up and holds up her middle finger. “No promises!”

  “Very funny,” I chide, ushering her through the door.

  My intention is to talk to her tonight about us, but by the time I get out of the shower, she’s curled up asleep. When I crawl into bed with her, a slight smile raises her lips, and she sighs softly, cuddling into me.

  My question can wait until tomorrow. As long as I have this, there’s nothing else I need.

  Chapter Twelve