My hair gets swept over my shoulder, and the zipper at the back of my dress is slowly lowered. Without looking, I instinctively know it’s Grey’s doing, his touch is unmistakable.
I’m still kissing Oliver, losing myself in the softness of his lips, when Grey murmurs in my ear, his breath hot against my skin, “May I?” His hands rest lightly on the straps of my dress, waiting for permission.
I break away from Oliver just enough to whisper a breathless, “Yes.”
The moment the word leaves my lips, Grey’s hands move with deliberate, almost reverent slowness. He eases the dress down, the silk slipping away and exposing my naked skin to the cool air of the room.
Underwear would have been visible through the silk.
A collective “Fuck,” escapes from the guys, and their eyes are filled with a raw, unfiltered hunger.
The room falls into a charged silence, broken only by the harsh intakes of breath and the soft, awed mutterings ofappreciation from Misha. Their gazes are riveted on me, and I can almost feel the heat of their stares like a physical touch. Goose bumps erupt across my skin, each one a response to their intense scrutiny.
Grey’s touch is soft but radiates a fierce possessiveness as his hands come to rest on my exposed shoulders, his fingers pressing into my skin with a grip that is both tender and commanding. His breath is hot against my neck, and the tension in his chest, pressed flush against my back, is evident.
Oliver’s eyes are dark with reverent appreciation, his jaw clenched as if struggling to hold back the storm of emotions raging within him. Misha, on the other hand, lets his gaze sweep over me with an intensity that sends a thrill of anticipation through my entire being.
“Jesus, Amelia,” he finally breaks the silence, his voice rough and strained. “You’re…”
“Beyond beautiful,” Oliver finishes for him.
The air in the room seems to thicken, charged with a tension that makes it almost impossible to breathe. Their reactions are overwhelming, their desire palpable, and the heat of their collective need wraps around me like a physical force.
Grey’s grip on me tightens slightly, his lips brushing my throat when he murmurs, “We’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you more,” I whisper back, feeling my nipples peak.
What are we even doing?
Grey’s lips find the crook of my neck, and he whispers against my flushed skin, “We had quite an interesting discussion before we had to whisk you away from there.”
My mind hazy with desire, I manage a soft, “Oh?”
“Indeed. We were thinking…” Misha moves closer. “… we’d like to teach Oliver a thing or two, but only if you’re comfortable with it.”
Oh God.
“Teach him what, exactly?” I ask on a breath.
Grey’s voice rumbles in my ear. “Pleasure. Giving it, specifically.”
A delicious shiver runs through me, a heady mix of anticipation and nervous excitement settling in the pit of my stomach. I swallow hard, trying to steady my racing heart as I turn and meet Grey’s intense gaze. The dimly lit room seems to shrink around us, the air crackling with an electric tension that I can almost taste on my lips. His fingers graze my cheek with a touch so light it’s almost cruel, sending a bolt of desire straight through me.
And before I can even register what’s happening, his lips are on mine in a searing kiss that threatens to consume me whole. It’s as if every nerve in my body is attuned to the sensation of his mouth on mine, the urgency of his hands as they reach down to pull me up to him, and I instinctively wrap my legs around him. The heat builds between us as he carries me with a sureness that speaks of possession, a commanding force that brooks no resistance and threatens to burn.
Our lips are locked until we reach the edge of one of the plush beds. Then he sits, the force dropping me into his lap and making me groan as my clit rubs against his length. I start to rock my hips, seeking further friction, but his hands on my hips grip tight, stopping me. “Shit, baby. We have time,” Grey assures me, releasing me to move back against the headboard. “Now, get your sweet ass over here.”
He reaches for me, and with a gentle yet insistent pull, he tugs me into his lap, turning me so my legs drape over his, effectively spreading me open. The sudden sound of Oliver and Misha groaning have me snapping my eyes up to where they stand at the foot of the bed, their eyes riveted to my pussy.
Oliver’s gaze is filled with a reverent appreciation, while Misha’s holds a predatory edge that makes my pulse race even faster.
Misha’s words break the lust-filled haze and are laced with that familiar, playful edge. “I figure that’s a yes to us teaching Oliver this?” His question hangs in the air, a tangible challenge.
The thought of whatthisentails sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine.
But…
“It’s just… it’s not easy for me to come. I don’t want him to think…” I struggle to find the right words without breaking Grey’s rule about not mentioning other men in his bed or sounding foolish. “Grey and you are the only ones who have ever made me come.”
