“… incredible,” Grey finishes for me.
“Mind-blowing,” Oliver adds, his arms tightening around me.
“Perfect,” Misha concludes, his eyes meeting mine with a warmth that takes my breath away.
I rise from Oliver’s lap, gasping at the loss of him, my body still humming. I feel powerful, desired, and cherished. But as I glance at Grey, desire still burns in his eyes, an unmet need that calls to me.
On shaky legs, I move to stand in front of him, my gaze raking over him. His dark blond hair is tousled, his breathing heavy, and there’s a hunger in his eyes that makes my heart race with anticipation. I drop to my knees, my hands running up the front of his thighs, one reaching out to stroke his cock, which is still eager and wanting.
I grip him at the base just as Oliver’s cum runs down the inside of my leg, making me shiver.
God, this is all so dirty but so damn good.
“What are you doing, baby?” Grey’s need is unmistakable in the way he watches me.
I look up at him, my eyes locking with his. “I’m not done,” I say, determination coursing through me. “As long as you’re not done, I’m not done.”
Grey shakes his head, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You don’t have to do this,” he assures gently. “Watching you with them was amazing enough.”
I smile back, my fingers still exploring. “I want to.” My touch becomes more purposeful. “I want to taste you, Grey. I want to be the reason you come undone.”
A low groan escapes him, his fingers threading through my hair, guiding me closer. I part my lips, taking him in, savoring the sensation of his silky skin against my tongue.
I begin to move, and Grey’s grip on my hair tightens, his breath catching. His eyes lock onto me, filled with awe and desire. “Fuck, Amelia,” he mutters, his need evident. “Your mouth feels so good.” I continue to bob my head, my hands gripping his thighs for balance as I take him deeper, my eyes never leaving his. Grey’s reactions spur me on, his soft gasps and moans fueling my desire to please him, to show him just how much he means to me.
“You’re incredible,” Grey says with admiration. “You know that?”
My chest swells with pride at his words, igniting a new need. The need to show him how much he means to me, how much I want to do this. Swirling my tongue around the head of his cock, I savor the salty pre-cum that beads at the tip.
“Look at you, sucking my cock so eagerly,” Grey says huskily. I feel a sense of empowerment, a renewed sense of purpose as I continue to pleasure him. Grey’s breathing grows ragged, his body tensing as he nears his release. “I’m close, baby,” he warns, his voice strained. “I want to mark you.”
Keeping my gaze locked with his, I silently encourage him to let go, to give in to the pleasure that I know is coursing through his veins. But then he pulls out of my mouth, and his hot, sticky come spurts onto my chest as he moans out my name.
I sit back on my heels, my body flushed with satisfaction as Grey struggles to catch his breath. His eyes are dark with desire as he looks down at me, at the mess he made of me.
“Jesus, Amelia,” he whispers in awe before reaching down to help me to my feet and pulling me into his arms. Holding me close despite his cum on me, he presses a soft kiss to the top of my head. “All ours.”
TWENTY-FIVE
After we allshower and clean up, I find myself enveloped in Misha’s clothes. The scent of him lingers faintly on the hoodie I’ve pulled on, a mix of his cologne and something uniquely him. But despite the comfort, I still feel the need to get my own things.
“I want to go grab my toothbrush and something to wear tomorrow,” I say, glancing at the guys.
“I’ll go with you,” Oliver offers without hesitation, already walking toward the door.
The ride down to my place is quiet, the hum of the elevator almost soothing in its monotony. I lean against Oliver’s shoulder, trying to keep my eyes open, and he chuckles, kissing my temple when he sees me yawning.
But as the doors slide open with a soft ding, a figure standing in front of my door sends a jolt of unease through me, making my heart stutter in my chest and me grip Oliver’s forearm.
The man’s back is to us, and it looks like he’s examining my lock, his head tilted to the side in concentration. Before I can even process what’s happening, Oliver takes my hand off him and surges forward, his usual shy demeanor replaced by protective fury.
He grabs the guy by the shoulder, his fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket, and spins him around with surprising force.
Then recognition hits.
It’s Dr. Cockwomble.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Oliver’s voice is low, dangerous, a tone I’ve never heard from him before, not even with Daniel.
