Home.
That’s what we are now.
Her home, and she’s ours.
“Miss Stanley, you’re being requested.” A waiter comes over and interrupts us, making Amelia sit up straight and pull her hand from mine.
I tense up immediately, but Amelia gives me a smile.
A forced one.
“Relax, they probably want me to play the piano,” she says softly. But I stand when she does, unable to shake the protective instinct rising within me. She looks into my eyes, calming me with her steady gaze. “It’s all right. I’ll do it. It’s the last time ever. I can do this to keep the peace.”
Reluctantly, I sit back down, watching as she’s escorted away from us. I lose sight of her in the crowd, already missing her presence.
“Okay, booked. We’ll be back home soon,” Oliver says, bringing me back to the table.
Misha sighs with relief. “Thank God. I can’t wait to get out of here. I have no idea how Amelia could’ve turned out so sweet and innocent after being brought up in this nest of snakes.”
I notice Oliver’s ears turning a telltale shade of crimson, and I can’t resist the urge to tease him a bit. “Why does that make you blush?”
Oh, I know why.
Misha picks up on the teasing immediately. “It was theinnocentpart, right?” he chimes in, his dark eyes dancing with amusement. “The question is, who is not so innocent anymore after that blow job? Her oryou?”
My mind drifts to the image on the security feed—her lips wrapped around Oliver’s cock. Just the memory makes my pulse quicken, and I can’t help but imagine her plush lips on me, her tongue teasing while those big blue eyes look up at me.
The mere notion of her worshiping my cock, her eyes wide with desire, and me praising her for every flick of her tongue sends a jolt of anticipation straight to my groin.
The idea alone sends a wave of heat through me. And if she wants the others to watch for fairness? So be it.
Oliver’s voice, tinged with a note of regret, cuts through my dirty daydreams. “No, I think I fucked up.”
What?
“We watched. You didn’t, I promise you. Grey and I would have come just as quick. That blow was…” Misha shakes his head, “… damn.”
Damn indeed.
Oliver frowns. “No, not because of that. Andfuck you.”
“What is it then? It can’t be the size of your dick.” Misha chuckles, and I have to suppress a laugh.
“Because I… I should have reciprocated.”
Ah, okay.
“Why didn’t you?” I ask, my tone softening. This is all new for him, and maybe we have to treat the subject with more care.
Oliver sighs, his gaze dropping to the table. “I have no idea how to. I wouldn’t even know how to touch her and can’t imagine what to do with my mouth.”
“We can teach you,” Misha says with a shrug.
Oliver looks up, eyes wide with horror and disbelief. “I’m not going to lick grapefruits again.”
Now I can’t suppress the laugh that bursts out, recalling the time Misha returned home with some citrus fruits in an attempt to teach Oliver the art of kissing after he’d first laid eyes on Amelia.
Needless to say, the lesson didn’t go over well.
