The Naughty List: 25 Days of Sawyer’s Steamiest Scenes (Day #21)


“Oh, wow,” I tell her softly. “I never could have imagined this.”

“See anything you like?” she asks me slyly.

And yes, I see a lot I like. I look around at the people, immediately noting several men staring at me and Elena hungrily behind their masks.

I’m so getting laid tonight.

And then, I see him.


A fucking god.

Wearing nothing but a pair of faded jeans that hang low on lean hips, above which rises a trail of dark hair that stops at his navel. He’s not the type of guy who struts around flexing his abs, but I could tell if he did, they’d be washboard perfection. Muscular chest and arms, but in a toned way.

Tanned skin.

No, not tanned… olive.


And that’s all I can see because he’s hooded. His entire head is covered in a form-fitting leather mask. It must be laced or zipped up the back, revealing only a pair of golden-brown eyes, full lips, and dark, longish hair.

“God, he’s magnificent,” Elena whispers as he walks from the opposite side of the room.

No, not walks.

He prowls, but not toward any particular prey. Arms hanging loose but swinging slightly in that confident way that says, “I’m the fucking shit and I know it.” The confidence exuding from him is sexy as hell.

He doesn’t look at anyone, just quickly walks down a short hall in between two of the rooms and disappears.

I’m slightly dizzy because I’ve forgotten to breathe, and I take in a shaky lungful of air. When I let it out slowly, I register abject disappointment that he’s gone.

“Oh, this is interesting,” Elena murmurs as she nudges me in the shoulder. I follow her gaze to one of the previously unoccupied rooms. It’s now lit up.

The masked man is in there. He’s all alone except for some type of furniture that’s covered completely in a silk sheet. Casually walking up to it, he takes the material in hand. He pulls it off not with a magician’s flourish, but slowly so the object is revealed.

And it’s a…

Well, I’m not quite sure what it is. He walks around it, blocking it from my view for a moment. People move toward the glass to get a better look. Before I know it, my legs are moving, too, and Elena follows me so we are standing right in front of the room, the sexy, mysterious man no more than five feet from us on the other side.

He is doing something with the contraption, and when he finally moves away to face the crowd, I vaguely register people gasping.

But my eyes are pinned on him as his gaze sweeps the crowd.

“Holy shit,” Elena mutters. “That is some freaky shit.”

My body jolts at the heat in her words, and I follow her gaze. My pussy floods with wetness at the sight.

At first glance, it looks like one of those portable massage chairs where a person straddles the seat and leans forward to put their face in a cut-out cushioned headrest. But there is no headrest, just an inclined padded bench that extends forty-five degrees away from the seat that’s meant to be straddled.

The seat, if it can be called that, is square, padded, and covered with leather, with a square opening in the center.

“What is it?” I ask.

“No clue,” she says, but then it becomes clear to everyone as the man reaches into a compartment attached to the side of the unit and pulls out a flesh-colored dildo that must be eight inches. It is so life-like I can see a thick vein running up the side.

He bends over, and my jaw drops as he hooks it onto a contraption under the seat, causing about four inches to poke up through the center.

There is no doubt in anyone’s mind now that seat is meant to be straddled by a woman with the dildo inside of her.

All I can think is, Who came up with this idea?

Next thing is, I wonder what that would feel like?

The man straightens. Still not looking at anyone, he fishes inside his front pocket where he pulls out a tube of lipstick.

He walks up to the glass window and starts writing words in reverse fashion so we can read them from our side of the glass.

Slowly, he spells out his message.

Anyone brave enough to come in here with me?

“I’m going unless you call dibs,” Elena says to me quickly, her eyes pinned on the man.

“Dibs,” I hurry to say, even though my blood pressure spikes when I realize I just committed myself.

She turns to look at me with a bright smile. “That’s my girl.”

About five women now push their way up to the glass, one of them literally knocking me to the side. I wobble briefly on my heels as the women raise their hands and start calling through the glass, “Me. Me. Me.”

My heart sinks as I realize that while I might be walking toward an adventurous orgasm, I’m going to have to compete to get there, and that is something I just don’t have within me. I’ve always been more of the wallflower and never the aggressor, and I can’t handle the rejection. Not after getting rejected by Vince.

I start to turn away when a loud knocking on the glass startles me into looking back.

The masked man is staring at me, his index finger pointed in my direction. He nods, turns his hand, and then crooks his finger, beckoning me in there.

I’m immediately filled with doubt and fear, and Elena must sense it for she calls out loud enough the guy has to hear, “She’ll be right there.”

He nods and turns away, then Elena has my hand as she drags me down the short hall.

“I can’t,” I practically screech.

“You can,” she growls. “You called dibs… and there’s no going back on dibs.”

Before I know it, she’s led me down the hall to the rear perimeter of the glass rooms. She opens the door, pushing me in so hard I stumble.

As she slams the door, she calls out, “I’m leaving. Find me in the Social Room when you’re done. If you can walk that is.”

With my heart beating so hard I’m afraid I’m going to die, I turn slowly around to find the man looking at me. He’s so much larger being in the same room with him, and my fear spikes higher.

“Panties off,” he says. “Leave the rest on.”

I stare at him, frozen.

“Panties off or leave,” he says, not in a mean or condescending way, but just in a matter-of-fact one.

When I look back on this moment, I know it will be a defining one for me. I think of Vince telling me that I just didn’t do it for him anymore. After a glance at the man who is already hard beneath the denim of his jeans, I make my decision.

I pull my dress up just high enough to grab my panties, and I shimmy them down my legs, kicking them free.

“Good girl,” he praises and holds out a hand.

My legs tremble as they move forward, but I place my palm against his. When his fingers curl around mine, engulfing me so completely, I feel an electrical spark of desire join the blood racing through my veins.

Without a word, he leads me to the contraption. I falter when I look outside the glass, horrified at the crowd gathered. Women glaring at me. Men looking like they want to devour me.

“The curtains,” I practically whimper. “Close them.”

He doesn’t answer, only pulls me right to the seat and growls his order. “Straddle it.”

My eyes shoot to his, and I see no patience within the warm brown depths. He’s so stern and intimidating, yet his eyes are glowing with a clear promise that this will be good.

Within them, I also see that the curtains are going to stay open, and I think I may have made a mistake.

“I won’t hurt you,” he says in a soothing voice.

“Promise?” I whisper.

“Straddle it,” he says again, this time with a gentle coaxing filled with promise.

“Oh, God,” I moan, but then I lift a leg to straddle the seat.


My entire fucking body is vibrating with need, and this is a cause for concern as I haven’t felt this way in forever. My life is filled with luxury—penthouse apartment, fast cars, the best champagne, and let’s not forget the never-ending supply of sex I get at The Wicked Horse.

When I walk in this place, I’m always filled with lust.

I always leave satisfied.

But I can’t remember a time I’ve gotten hard just by seeing a woman. I can’t remember a time that I’ve seen a woman and needed her more than anything I’ve ever needed before.

Sounds dramatic, but fuck if I can explain the way I almost had a heart attack when this woman in sapphire and peacock feathers started to walk away from the glass. She was interested and turned on when she saw my little contraption, but it was obvious she wasn’t going to fight for the right to straddle it.

I must remember to find her friend later and figure out a way to thank her properly for practically dragging this feathered beauty into my room. I’m playing hardball with her, taking a gamble that by taking away her control, it will make her want to stay, but there’s no way I’m letting her walk out that door.

The contraption is special. I should have named it with an honorary title as it was custom made and brought in for tonight’s event with Jerico’s permission. So many things can be done with it, but only one I want to do right now.

It’s set up about five feet from the glass and parallel to it. The minute she lifts her leg over the seat, I walk around to stand behind her.

She’s trembling—from fear, excitement, or both, I don’t know—but I move in close and bring my hands to her hips. She’s tiny and I tower over her, something that causes my dick to get harder since I could easily break her if I wanted.

Leaning down, I place my lips near an ear that has the tip of a peacock feather just barely covering it and murmur in a deep voice, “Why did you come in here?”

She shakes her head, not in denial of giving me an answer but because I don’t think she has the power to speak. Her legs are spread over the seat but locked tight, and it’s going to take some coaxing to get her to do what I want. The dildo isn’t dainty, and it’s going to take some maneuvering to get it inside what I’m betting is the sweetest and wettest pussy in the club tonight. I can just sense it. I could put my hand between her legs and find out, but I don’t need to.

“Relax,” I growl, not even recognizing my own voice. It’s thick with lust, need, and a darkness I’ve never heard before.

I tilt my head to run my lips down her neck.

She shudders, and I smile.


“Bend your knees,” I order.

She does nothing for a moment, but to my surprise, she complies and starts to squat lower over the seat. Her whimper about slays me.

Without taking my hands from her hips, I lean my body to the left and watch her descend. Closer and closer to the head of the dildo, the stretchy material of her dress riding up higher on her pale thighs.

When she makes contact, her head falls back and full, cherry-painted lips part with a gasp.

“That’s it.” My voice is more guttural, almost otherworldly, and it’s an indication of how turned on I am. “Rotate your hips, Feather.”

“Not my name,” she whispers. It surprises me she has the cognizance to formulate words at this point. I can feel how lost she is to the moment.

“It is tonight,” I tell her. “Now, move those hips. Work it in.”

And fuck… she does. Slow, circular movements as she pushes down on the dildo. Her breath coming in sharp little pants of need. I can feel my cock leaking, wetting the denim of my jeans. My fingers dig into her hips, helping to push her down.

“Feels… good,” she gasps as she rocks her way onto the thick latex.

Twisting my head, I turn to look out the glass and I can feel the hardcore lust coming off the people watching. This is what I really get off on… the exhibitionism… but when I see a man standing there with his dick out of his pants, stroking it hard as he watches my feathered bird, I have an insane moment where I want to close the curtains to block out the world.

“It’s in,” she moans as her ass hits the seat, and what a picture she makes as I turn to examine her.

Legs spread wide, just the tips of her toes pressed into the concrete floor. Her hands are on her thighs, her nails digging into her own creamy skin.

Yeah… not all the way in, but I’m going to rectify that.

“Hold still.” I bend to take her wrists, pulling her arms up to the inclining bench in front of her and pushing her hands to the padding. Without my command, she grips the leather covering at the edges, her knuckles going white. I glance down and see her eyes closed tight, lips pressed into a hard line.

“Going to make an adjustment,” I tell her so she’s not taken by surprise. “Lean forward a bit.”

She does with a tiny moan as the flexibility of the dildo causes it to move within her. Squatting down behind her, I reach under the contraption and pull on a lever with one hand while my other holds the padded seat. I push it up, angling it toward the inclined bench. It pushes her body forward, and she cries out in surprise as her chest is pushed into the incline. The reverse angle of the seat to the padded incline, along with half the dildo wedged in her pussy, has her pinned in place.

Just fucking perfect.

“This is going to get intense,” I tell her quietly. “Just hold on and don’t move.”

“Okay,” she murmurs, her voice tight with anticipation.

God, I hope she holds on and doesn’t jump off once I fire this baby up.

Reaching under the bench, I flip an electric switch. The engine gives a faint purr as the dildo—which is attached to a jackhammer-type stud—starts to move slowly inside of her.

“Fuck,” she screams as it pulls out and gives her the four inches plus another two, but she doesn’t move.

“Easy.” I put a hand on her lower back. “Let it do the work.”

“Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.”

With my fingertips, I pull the skirt up to bare her ass, almost coming as I watch the dildo working in and out of her from behind.

“Christ,” I mutter as I stare mesmerized for a moment.

“So good,” she moans as she turns her face to lay her feathered cheek on the padded bench, away from the glass window. She opens her eyes, and her stare is blissed out and blank.

Standing straight, I take a few faltering steps back, my hand involuntarily going to my cock to rub it through my jeans. I do this briefly before reaching into my front pocket, pushing past the tube of lipstick I’d put back in there after writing my invitation on the glass, and pulling out the tiny remote control.

I hesitate for only a moment before I push an upward arrow button to increase the speed. The other button, I leave alone because it would increase the depth. She’s so tiny, and I don’t want to hurt her. I’ll leave it at six inches.

The dildo-vibrator now hammers faster into her pussy. Shiny wet pussy juices shimmer on it, but my gaze slides to her face. A single tear of desperation falls out of her eye and soaks the feather below it. I hit the speed button one more notch, and she starts to moan.

Jesus… this is better than I ever thought could happen with this machine, and I have to let Micah see the fruits of his labor.

I jam my hand into my back pocket, tag my phone and pull it out. I don’t hesitate in the slightest pulling up the camera. The woman is unidentifiable with her body still mostly covered, no identifying tattoos or marks I could see, and her face and head covered with feathers. She’s simply my bird right now, but Micah has got to see this baby in action.

He’s the one that built it for me, after all. A true engineering marvel.

My fingers shake as I take a picture of the entire contraption fucking the woman, then I zoom in and take a close up of the dildo stroking her pussy.

I fire them off to Micah followed by a quick text message. You are fucking brilliant.

I don’t expect him to reply, but his responding “ding” causes me to look at my phone. Goddamn. I’ve got a hard-on.

Ditto, I respond. But I’m going to get mine taken care of very soon.

Asshole, he replies. Call me later and give me details.

Oh, I totally will. He’s going to want not just the details about how hard this makes her come, but he’s also going to want to know how well the machine works. It’s not the first he’s built, but it’s the best. His goal of starting a high-end, custom-built sex machine business looks like it might be more than just an idea over beers now. While his real job as a mechanical engineer pays him well, he’s got a kinky side he likes to explore.

I shove my phone back in my pocket and walk up to the woman getting fucked by a jack-hammering dildo. Moving around to the side of the machine so I can see her face, I squat so we are eye to eye. Her focus is gone, completely glazed over. She’s making tiny little whimpers.

Looking down to the remote, I hit the depth button and give her another inch.

The corresponding groan causes my balls to start to ache.

“Going to come, Feather?” I ask.

She tries to focus on me, but there’s no coming back from the deep sexual subspace she’s in. I watch her face carefully as more tears seep into the feathers, darkening the sapphire blue to cobalt. I reach a hand out, caress her jaw lightly.

And then I’m absolutely mesmerized as she starts to orgasm. I expected it to take her hard, but it rolls through her rather slowly. It ripples from her spine to her shoulders where she starts a full-body shudder.

Her eyes squeeze shut, more tears spill, and she lets out a long, low moan that goes on and on and on.

My finger hits the red stop button on the remote. While the dildo powers down slowly, I’m pulling a condom out and ripping it open. Doing nothing more than pushing my jeans past my hips, I spring my cock free and cover it up.

Lust pulses through me so hard I’m practically dizzy with the need to fuck her. She starts to regain some conscious focus and manages an, “Oh, fuck,” as I release the lever on the seat and pull her off with a wet sucking sound.

Turning to the glass, I pick her up, wrap her legs around my waist, and drive into her using her back against the glassed wall for leverage.

She screams and I almost come, so I just hold still as I bend my face to bite at her bare shoulder. “So sexy,” I praise.

Then I fuck her.

Up against the glass as the crowd watches, getting a great look at my cock stretching her already-overused pussy from behind.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I mutter, surprising myself. I normally don’t let my words get in the way.

She in turn moans, “More, more, more.”

“Greedy little bird,” I growl as I hurl my body into hers, as deep as I’ve ever been in a woman.

She tightens all around me, a quick hard orgasm causing her to scream as her head falls back and hits the glass. I look down, seeing her beautiful tits jiggling under the material of her blue dress.

I bring a hand up, test the weight of one breast, and squeeze it lightly. Her head flies up, and she looks down at me. I bring my eyes up to hers, and we lock. Those eyes are magnificent… bright. Almost lime in color.

I pinch her nipple through the material, and her eyes harden with need. Snaking my fingers up, I pull the material down over the left breast and pop it free. She rotates her hips and grinds down on me, a silent plea for more. I take her nipple in between my thumb and forefinger and rotate it hard.

She bucks against me, and my balls shrink tight. I grab the material again, in the middle, and drag it down so I can see more of her gorgeous tits, the other one springing free with the nipple already begging me to torture it. I flick it with my middle finger and fuck me standing… she starts to orgasm again.

It’s all over for me. I slam into her repeatedly, my cock swelling and then exploding viciously as I watch her breasts jiggle from the pounding.

And that’s when I see it.

A crescent-shaped scar on the side of her right breast, raised and puffy.

What the fuck?

My eyes travel further down, and there’s a corresponding scar on the side of her breast that looks almost identical except it’s a bit smaller.

Oh, Jesus fuck, no.

The sight of those scars repulses me as much as they excite me… because I realize who I have in my arms. Whose pussy I’m claiming right now, and Christ… another violent ripple of pleasure courses through me with a secondary orgasm, but I’ve got nothing left in my balls to unload.

My eyes snap up to hers as my hips still move so I can prolong the best damn pleasure of my life.

Fucking goddamn Jorie Pearce.

Micah’s little sister.

So I dig my heels back into him and hang on for the ride.

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Sawyer Bennett

Sawyer Bennett

New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestselling author Sawyer Bennett uses real life experience to create relatable stories that appeal to a wide array of readers. Continue Reading