Checkout

Emily stood in the checkout line, basket light in one hand, the stroller steady beneath her fingers. Chloe dozed quietly, pacifier bobbing with each soft breath. The supermarket hum returned to normal around her—beeping scanners, murmured conversation, plastic bags rustling—but inside her, everything was different.

Her shirt was back on. Her jeans zipped. Hair mostly straightened with her fingers. But under it all, she was soaked. Still dripping with Julio. Her panties clung wet and warm to her inner thighs, and every shift of her weight brought the ghost of his thrusts back to her core. Her ass tingled where his hand had left that stinging red bloom. Her pussy ached—pleasurably, tenderly—from the hard, deep stretch of him.

And the breakroom.

She’d walked back in to get Chloe.

Four pairs of eyes turned to her as she entered—Julio back at the table like nothing had happened, sipping something cold from a bottle, the others grinning, nodding, one even giving her a mock salute. None of them said a word. They didn’t need to.

They knew.

Every one of them.

They’d probably heard it. Maybe even stood outside the door. Maybe watched.

And the heat that flushed through her cheeks wasn’t just shame. It was release. Completion. She felt loose, light, like some terrible, tightening ache had finally broken open and let her breathe again.

For the first time in months—maybe longer—Emily felt good.

Not okay.

Good.

A soft tap on her shoulder snapped her back.

She turned—and blinked.

The woman standing behind her in line was stunning. Late thirties, maybe early forties. Tall, poised. Long dark hair in a loose braid, sharp cheekbones, a warm smirk that tugged just at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes were striking—hazel, confident, knowing.

“Was it your first time?” the woman asked softly, voice pitched low so no one else could hear.

Emily blinked again, confused for half a second—then her heart skipped.

The woman raised an eyebrow, smiling more fully now. “You’re glowing,” she added. “Takes one to know one.”

Emily’s blush crept hot over her cheeks and up to her ears.

The woman chuckled. “Don’t worry. Happens to all of us. Welcome to the club.”

Emily swallowed, trying to muster something to say, but before she could, the woman leaned in just a little closer, eyes flicking briefly left, then right, then back to Emily’s face.

“Ask for Marcus,” she whispered, lips barely moving. “He’s the one with the biggest cock.”

Then she stepped back, serene, unbothered, as if they’d just discussed which apples were best in pie.

Emily stared, stunned, pulse kicking back to life.

And that was how this worked?

There was a club?

Her thighs squeezed together instinctively.

Marcus.