“Come for us,” he murmurs. “Let him taste it. Let him know how good he’s doing.”
I cry out as the orgasm rolls through me, wave after wave crashing over my spine. Grant doesn’t stop. Not for a second. He holds me down and licks me through every pulse, every tremble, until I’m shaking and soaked and clawing at the couch cushions.
Only then does Dante rise to his feet again, cock thick and twitching as he looks down at us both.
“Good,” he says, eyes on Grant now. His thumb wipes across Grant’s full bottom lip, glossy with my release. Sucking his finger clean, he hums and says, “I want to see you do it again.”
Dante doesn’t touch me at first—just watches, eyes dark, voice a calm command that makes my body obey before I can think.
“Ride his mouth again,” he says, voice smooth as glass. “Come on his face, angel. I want to see it this time.”
I nod, lips parted, still trembling from the last orgasm as I shift up and off the couch.
Grant’s eyes follow me, lips wet with me, hands already reaching. I swing a leg over him, straddling his face, bracing myself on the arm of the couch as I lower down.
His tongue finds me instantly.
God.
I cry out, hips jerking as he laps at me—greedier now. Less careful. He’s lost in it, in me. Because this is familiar for him.
Being with a woman. Opening himself to me first, before giving it all to Dante.
I’m already close to coming again when Dante moves in front of me.
He strokes his cock, slow and thick, and holds my jaw to meet his eyes.
“Open,” he says.
I do.
He slides into my mouth, inch by inch, until I’m full of him—until I can taste his salt and heat and he’s groaning low in his throat.
“That’s it,” he breathes, thumb caressing my cheek. “Suck me, Eve. Nice and slow.”
I hum around him, swirling my tongue along the underside of his shaft, taking more. He’s so long I can only get half of him before he’s hitting the back of my throat.
Fuck, I love big-cocked clients.
Grant moans beneath me, and my hips rock harder, grinding on his mouth.
Dante doesn’t pull out.
He stays deep, letting me moan around him, letting me struggle to breathe as the pleasure crashes again—sharp and wild and too much to contain.
I come with both of them holding me down—Grant licking me through it, Dante gripping my jaw, cock still buried in my mouth as I moan and tremble and come again.
When my hips finally still, Dante strokes my jaw once more, pulling back with a wet, lewd sound. He steps back and retrieves two condoms from the wooden box, tossing one to me.
I catch it with shaking fingers.
Grant watches, still breathless, eyes wide as I slide off his face. His lips are swollen, glistening. I kiss him—long and messy and grateful—before easing him back against the couch.
“Sit up,” I whisper.
He does. I drop to my knees between his legs.
I open the condom wrapper with my teeth, hold his cock at the base, and lower my mouth. Rolling it down inch by inch as I suck him, licking and teasing while he curses softly and fists the cushions at his sides.
