“Don’t stop,” I insisted. “Keep talkin’.”
My gaze swung up to the second floor. I could see the break room door was closed, and I could practically picture the two of them in there. Amy laid out on the couch with Rhys’s head between her splayed thighs.
“His tongue is…” Another moan.
“Is Rhys dressed?” I had to know.
“Yes. Fully. But I’m…”
Naked. I knew.
Holy fuck.
“What’s he doin’ to you?”
“His tongue is licking me and … God, it feels so good.”
“Where’s he lickin’ you?”
“My … my pussy.” Her words were softly spoken and I could hear the embarrassment.
I had to give her credit for trying.
“I wanna watch, Amy,” I told her. “I wanna watch while he licks your sweet pussy.”
“Oh, my … Rhys … don’t stop.”
“Can I watch, baby? Can I come upstairs and watch while he eats your pussy? While he makes you come?”
I didn’t move from where I was, despite what I said. I wasn’t sure my legs would hold me up, and the friction from my jeans against my dick would likely have me coming. Probably not a wise move here in the warehouse.
“Talk to me, baby,” I urged. “Tell me how it feels. How his tongue feels slidin’ against your clit.”
“Good … so good. Oh, God! Now he’s… Rhys … your fingers … they feel so good.”
“Is he fingerin’ you? How many fingers is he usin’?”
“Two. He’s … fucking me with two fingers and his tongue is flicking my clit. Wolfe … it’s … it’s too much.”
Amy was panting through the phone and the sound was so damn sweet, it was as though she were breathing right on my dick.
“Rhys … oh, yes … right there. Right there!” Amy cried out and I closed my eyes, picturing how fucking hot she was when she came.
Son of a bitch.
And to think, all this torture had been my own damn fault.
Not that I was complaining.
Not one single bit.
When I heard the door open at the top of the stairs, I was still leaning against the table. As soon as they appeared on the landing, I waved toward the door.
“Time to go home,” I said gruffly.
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah.” I smiled at the pair of them. “Then it’s my turn.”
