The smile

The room still smelled of baby oil and sweat, Roxie’s smirk lingering. Her clit still throbbed where the dancer’s fingers had teased, every nerve screaming at the cruel denial.

John leaned back in his chair, perfectly calm, swirling his drink. His voice slid across the room, soft but cutting,

“Gentlemen, I think it’s clear Tammy that Tammy needs a bit of release, I am sure you will indulge her.”

Her eyes snapped to him. Her lips parted, the words caught in her throat.

Paolo was the first to move. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his dark eyes burning into her. “So,” he drawled in that rich accent, “does the pretty analyst also like to play?”

Tammy’s stomach flipped. Her thighs squeezed together instinctively, but there was no hiding the slickness already glistening between them. She glanced at John, ****, but his stare was

[ice.

No

](http://ice.No) does not exist.

Her breath hitched. She nodded. “Yes.”

The men laughed low, hungry, and Marcus was on his feet, towering over her, tugging at his belt.

“On your knees,” he said.

Her pulse thundered in her ears, but she slid off the chair, down onto the sticky carpet. She felt the roughness under her stockinged knees, humiliation wrapping around her.

Marcus freed himself, thick and heavy, the blunt head already slick. Tammy’s eyes widened — Graham had never looked like that. She swallowed hard, heat racing through her chest.

“Open,” Marcus ordered.

She did.

The taste hit instantly, salty, bitter, overwhelming. He groaned, one big hand cupping the back of her head, guiding her pace. She gagged, tears pricking her eyes, but she **** herself deeper, the shame burning through her until her pussy gushed.

Behind her, Paolo chuckled. “She’s eager. Look at her.”

Stephen’s voice was hoarse. “Christ, she’s perfect.”

Tammy tried to keep her focus, tongue working, jaw aching, throat stretched. She thought of Graham, of the years she’d said no, of the way his face would crumble if he saw her now. The thought made her moan around Marcus’s cock, the sound vibrating down his length.

He groaned. “Fuck, that’s it.”

Hot, thick jets spilled down her throat, shocking her, **** her. She coughed, swallowed, swallowed again, gagging on the taste, but she didn’t pull away. She took it all, face slick with spit, mascara smudging down her cheeks.

Marcus pulled back, smirking down at her ruined face. “Good girl.”

Her chest heaved. Her cunt pulsed. She’d never let Graham finish in her mouth, never even thought about it. Now she was dripping onto the carpet.

Paolo was next. He was already unbuttoning his trousers, eyes glittering. “Over the table, bella.”

Her legs shook as she stood, bent over the small table in the corner, skirt hiked up, her bare pussy spread and glistening. The air was cool on her swollen lips.

He pressed against her, thick and hard, and slid in with one long stroke. She cried out, nails scraping the wood, the stretch sharp intense.

“Dio mio,” Paolo groaned, gripping her hips, driving deep.

Her body pulled him in, every thrust slammed a broken moan from her lips, her arse rippling under his hands, her nipples scraping the wood as her tits bounced.

She clenched around him, humiliated and ****, her pussy flooding down his cock.

John’s voice floated over from the corner, calm and clinical. “Remember, Tammy. You’ll do exactly as I say. And you’ll smile while you do it.”

She turned her head, forcing her lips into something that looked like a smile.

Paolo groaned, his rhythm quickening, hips slamming into her arse until the sound echoed through the room. He came with a guttural curse, filling her with heat, her cunt fluttering helplessly around him.

He pulled out, panting, and she collapsed forward onto her elbows, dripping, thighs trembling.

Stephen stepped forward, already stroking himself, his pale face flushed. “My turn.”

Tammy tried to catch her breath, her body aching, but John’s sharp look froze her. She spread her legs wider, offering herself.

Stephen slid in, thinner but longer, the angle piercing deep. She gasped, nails clawing the table, back arching as he found her spot instantly.

“Oh— fuck—” she moaned, cunt tightening around him.

He pumped fast, urgent, his hands clutching her waist like a lifeline. Tammy’s body betrayed her again, sparks shooting through her belly, her pussy clenching tight as her orgasm hit, tearing a cry from her throat.

Her whole body shook, legs quivering, cunt milking him as he groaned, spilling inside her, his breath ragged against her ear.

When he pulled out, she felt their seed dripping down her thighs, face streaked, blouse half open tits out, hair wild.

John finally stood, his expression unreadable. He looked at her with a measure of pride.

And Tammy smiled, She was his. Completely.