Grant’s hands roam over me with a need that borders on frantic, but there’s a question buried beneath all that desperation.
A silent:Does he want me—or just want to watch me fall apart under you?
And we all know the answer.
We just haven’t admitted it yet.
Grant works my dress down past my hips, and I step out of it—completely bare now. Bare for him. Bare for both of them.
His breath hitches.
Then his mouth finds my breast, tongue swirling around one nipple as his hand palms the other, before he switches—pulling the second into his mouth with a low, hungry groan. I thread my fingers into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan again.
When he looks up, I capture his mouth, kissing him deep and open-mouthed, then begin peeling away his layers—slipping his loosened tie from around his neck, undoing the buttons of his shirt one by one. He shrugs out of it, baring golden skin and sharp muscle, and my hands run down the ridges of his stomach until I’m palming him through his slacks. Hard. Hot. Throbbing under my grip.
His breath shudders out.
“God, you’re—” he starts.
I silence him with a teasing kiss and walk him backward until the back of my knees hit the couch. He follows, letting himself be guided, lips still moving with mine.
I sink to the cushions.
My lips press against the skin of his abdomen, kissing a slow trail down. He moans softly, running his fingers through my hair as I unbuckle his belt and pop the button on his pants. He kicks off his shoes without hesitation as I tug down both his slacks and his boxers, freeing his cock.
He’s already leaking.
I glance up at him through my lashes as I take him in hand, stroking once—slow and firm. His jaw clenches.
Then I grin.
My tongue runs a slick path along the underside of his shaft, from base to tip, before I take the head into my mouth. Swirl. Suck. Just enough pressure to make his head fall back with a groan.
“Fuck, Eve?—”
But I’m not looking at him.
I’m looking at Dante.
Still in his chair. Still clothed. Except now one hand is lazily stroking over the thick bulge behind his slacks, his palm pressing firm over the outline of his cock. His jaw is tight. His nostrils flared. There’s a tick in his cheek he doesn’t bother hiding.
Oh, he likes this.
Grant moans again, hips twitching slightly beneath my mouth.
I release him with a wet pop and guide him lower on the couch. I kiss him, slow and messy, tasting his own arousal on my tongue.
Then I lean back and open my legs.
Completely bare. Completely ready.
Grant’s pupils dilate. But I catch his jaw, tipping his head back toward mine.
“Show him,” I whisper. “Show Dante how well you eat my pussy. Show him how hard you can make me come.”
His breath catches. I feel the hesitation in his body.
And then—obedience.
