pushing against his invasion. “Anal virgin?”
“No.”
“Well,” he said as he pressed another finger inside her tight ring, swiveling his wrist, “it’s been a while.” With all the juice dripping from her pussy, he needed no lubricant. “By the time I work my dick into this tiny, pink ass, both of us will be screaming.”
She moaned harshly. It pinched and burned, but she wanted this touch and tried to relax under his skillful fingers. Her hands clenched above her restraints, her desire to stroke her clit nearly overwhelming. He plunged his fingers in and out of her, going deeper with each stroke. Her head was spinning, and she realized she was thrashing it back and forth, her mouth forming incoherent sounds as she pleaded with him to take her over the edge, to release this orgasm that just wouldn’t go over passion’s cliff.
He kept two fingers deep in her ass and finally aligned his cock between her sopping lips. “We have all night to play, but I want to take off the edge right now. I’ll start here, but I’ll end,” he said, wiggling his fingers, “here.”
“You won’t start or end anything,” Trey barked, the door slamming against the wall as he bounded in with Julian close behind him.
Chapter Seven
“What the hell is going on inside your head, Elizabeth?” Trey finally broke the silence after an uncomfortable journey back to her parlor suite. Pacing back and fort h, he bared his teeth, loosened his tie, and then glared at the French doors leading to the balcony.
“Not the same thing that’s going on in yours,” Libby snapped.
“Don’t be childish.”
Maybe she was being childish, but Libby hated how Trey had taken her from Level 69 as though she were his property, only to talk down to her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I met a rock star and decided to play groupie,” she rubbed it in. “What woman in her right mind wouldn’t want to fuck Stellan Hudson?”
He whirled. “Leave Drake.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Trey finished removing his tie in clipped efficient movements, then dropped his jacket on a nearby chair. He ran his hands through his hair, freeing chestnut-colored waves from their gelled prison. “It’s the best idea I have right now.” He walked to the French doors, opened them wide, and inhaled the salt air. It was muggy tonight, but that never mattered to a Floridian. Home always smelled like salt and surf, and Trey appreciated the dampness touching his skin in the same way she did.
Drake glanced at Libby, and then looked back at Trey. “I won’t let you ruin what,” he stopped, clenching his jaw. Then he walked onto the balcony and gripped the railings, staring into the sea. “You wouldn’t leave me in this sort of shape,” he said so quietly to Trey that Libby nearly missed it. “I’m not leaving unless you physically remove me.”
Trey’s beautiful mouth curled with distaste as he stared at the low waves tumbling in the horizon. “I can’t believe I found her naked and wet — very wet — inside Julian’s sex club! Her cheeks are flushed even now. Do you know what that fe,” he stopped himself, clenching his hands at his sides. “Looked like,” he finished though she knew he’d amended his statement. “Seeing her hand above another man’s manacle!”
Drake stayed quiet.
Libby slipped off her shoes and rubbed her ankles to prevent herself from putting her hands where they really needed to go. She was still sitting on orgasm’s edge, and she needed Trey and Drake to get out of the suite, so she could finish what Stellan generously started. “Should I have requested your manacles when I went into Level 69?” Libby still couldn’t catch her breath, could feel Stellan’s hands strumming her hurting soul back to life. “Just so I’ll know for next time’s sake.”
“That’s not remotely cute, Elizabeth,” Trey said, looking over his shoulder, those tourmaline eyes staring through her. Unless she was seeing
“No.”
“Well,” he said as he pressed another finger inside her tight ring, swiveling his wrist, “it’s been a while.” With all the juice dripping from her pussy, he needed no lubricant. “By the time I work my dick into this tiny, pink ass, both of us will be screaming.”
She moaned harshly. It pinched and burned, but she wanted this touch and tried to relax under his skillful fingers. Her hands clenched above her restraints, her desire to stroke her clit nearly overwhelming. He plunged his fingers in and out of her, going deeper with each stroke. Her head was spinning, and she realized she was thrashing it back and forth, her mouth forming incoherent sounds as she pleaded with him to take her over the edge, to release this orgasm that just wouldn’t go over passion’s cliff.
He kept two fingers deep in her ass and finally aligned his cock between her sopping lips. “We have all night to play, but I want to take off the edge right now. I’ll start here, but I’ll end,” he said, wiggling his fingers, “here.”
“You won’t start or end anything,” Trey barked, the door slamming against the wall as he bounded in with Julian close behind him.
Chapter Seven
“What the hell is going on inside your head, Elizabeth?” Trey finally broke the silence after an uncomfortable journey back to her parlor suite. Pacing back and fort h, he bared his teeth, loosened his tie, and then glared at the French doors leading to the balcony.
“Not the same thing that’s going on in yours,” Libby snapped.
“Don’t be childish.”
Maybe she was being childish, but Libby hated how Trey had taken her from Level 69 as though she were his property, only to talk down to her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I met a rock star and decided to play groupie,” she rubbed it in. “What woman in her right mind wouldn’t want to fuck Stellan Hudson?”
He whirled. “Leave Drake.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Trey finished removing his tie in clipped efficient movements, then dropped his jacket on a nearby chair. He ran his hands through his hair, freeing chestnut-colored waves from their gelled prison. “It’s the best idea I have right now.” He walked to the French doors, opened them wide, and inhaled the salt air. It was muggy tonight, but that never mattered to a Floridian. Home always smelled like salt and surf, and Trey appreciated the dampness touching his skin in the same way she did.
Drake glanced at Libby, and then looked back at Trey. “I won’t let you ruin what,” he stopped, clenching his jaw. Then he walked onto the balcony and gripped the railings, staring into the sea. “You wouldn’t leave me in this sort of shape,” he said so quietly to Trey that Libby nearly missed it. “I’m not leaving unless you physically remove me.”
Trey’s beautiful mouth curled with distaste as he stared at the low waves tumbling in the horizon. “I can’t believe I found her naked and wet — very wet — inside Julian’s sex club! Her cheeks are flushed even now. Do you know what that fe,” he stopped himself, clenching his hands at his sides. “Looked like,” he finished though she knew he’d amended his statement. “Seeing her hand above another man’s manacle!”
Drake stayed quiet.
Libby slipped off her shoes and rubbed her ankles to prevent herself from putting her hands where they really needed to go. She was still sitting on orgasm’s edge, and she needed Trey and Drake to get out of the suite, so she could finish what Stellan generously started. “Should I have requested your manacles when I went into Level 69?” Libby still couldn’t catch her breath, could feel Stellan’s hands strumming her hurting soul back to life. “Just so I’ll know for next time’s sake.”
“That’s not remotely cute, Elizabeth,” Trey said, looking over his shoulder, those tourmaline eyes staring through her. Unless she was seeing
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