I hit another pleasure point, and Orla reached over her thigh, gripping my shoulder for support. “Nash.Fuck.”
God, I wish.But we didn’t have time. My phone buzzed with an alert from the cameras watching her building. Someone was here. A friend, I hoped.
A brother.
Either way, my party for one between her legs had to end.
I brought my mouth back to her clit, working it while I pulsed my fingers inside her, reeling with the overcome moans that escaped her. Orla wasn’t a screamer. She made deeper sounds.Hottersounds. And they did me in. I could’ve come from this alone, but... I didn’t.
Just.
I coaxed her to a shaking climax, gripping her thick thighs like a fucking lifebelt. Then I got to hold her in my arms for all of six seconds before a knock pounded on the front door.
Mateo. It had to be. Locke never knocked like that, and fuck me, my dickhurt.
“Poor baby.” Orla grazed me through my jeans. “Don’t crash your hog. This thing will shatter on impact.”
Groaning, I pushed her wicked hand away. “Don’t even joke about that.”
I meant the crashing part, mostly.
Orla laughed, but it was boneless enough that I knew I’d got her good.
Blocking the whole world out, even Locke, I lay over her again, kissing her, loving her, letting my body grind against hers enough to roll my eyes around the world and back. “Can I wake you up when I get in?”
Orla wove her fingers into my hair and yanked my head back. “You’d better. Now fuck off before Mateo stomps in here and kills my buzz.”
“I love you.”
Orla kissed my cheek and nuzzled my face. “I love you too. Be safe out there?”
I couldn’t promise that.
All I could do was leave.
3
LOCKE
Twenty minutes later, Nash emerged from Orla’s flat with flushed cheeks and sex-mussed hair. With tight jeans and the scent of her all over him.
Fuckin’ hell.
I closed my eyes for a hot second, forcing myself to breathe through my mouth and not picture every depraved thing they might’ve done to match the sounds that had filtered through the wall. Goddamn, why was everything about these two pure fuckin’ sex?
Nash’s boots brought him closer and I found myself fighting a brand-new battle.
If I didn’t open my eyes and look at him, he’d touch me to find out why.
If I looked at him right now, I’d burst into flames.
Amazing.
I’d faced worse dilemmas in my life, but that didn’t make this one any less painful.
Also, I kinda wanted him to touch me. Nash had warm, rough hands that felt good on my skin, even through the Kings crewneck that stood between his palm and the bare tingling skin of my shoulder.
Cos I didn’t open my eyes.
