It was four thirty, and Landry had Cris bent over the spanking bench in their personal playroom, working a large butt plug into his ass. “Can’t you do this at their house?” she called down to him. “We told them we’d be there around five, and we’re going to be late.” “Patience, love,” Landry called back. “Almost finished. Won’t be but a moment.” “Why do you guys have to wait until the last damn minute to start this kind of shit? You’re really starting to piss me off.” “Don’t blame Cris, love. I’m the sadist, you know.” She leaned against the kitchen counter. Normally, she’d enjoy helping participate in whatever kinky diversions Landry had up his sleeve for the evening. But they were going. To. Be. Late. And she hated that.
