again.
No wonder she could no longer feel the warmth of his breath. Max was kissing Trev’s cheek, which explained the moan that echoed from his mouth into hers.
“Kiss me,” Max whispered, and instinctively Grace knew he spoke to Trev.
She pulled away. Not far, just giving herself enough space to watch as the men fused their lips together, to capture glimpses of pink as their tongues danced. She couldn’t look away, couldn’t close her eyes. All she could do was stare, entranced.
Her hand was captured by a larger one, a stronger one. It tugged, pulled her arm until her fingers touched supple denim. Then her hand was pushed flat against the denim, her palm neatly enveloping the hard bulge behind the soft material.
Trev bucked against her hand and she shuffled her butt, instinctively seeking out Max’s erection.
Ah. Right there. Still trapped beneath her, its length obvious against her cheeks.
Dear God. Two penises. Two erect, straining penises. One beneath her hand, one pressed to her ass. And two mouths, molded together in a kiss so hot she began to tremble.
Had she still been living in Adelaide under the watchful eyes of her parents, Grace would never have opened herself to this experience. She’d have run away as fast as possible.
But like Hunter had said, how could anything that made her feel this good, this happy, be wrong in any way?
It couldn’t. It was that simple. It was too beautiful, too right, to be wrong.
Max let out a low growl and thrust up against her buttocks, which served only to increase the intensity of her trembling. And the intensity of her changing beliefs. There was nothing wrong with this. Nothing at all. Perhaps in her parents’ eyes, but not in hers.
She fiddled with the button and zip on Trev’s jeans, wanting nothing more than to hold him in her hand, to feel the satin strength of his cock nestled in her grip.
Too difficult. Her hand wouldn’t stop shaking. She needed both hands for the task, and her full concentration.
It took a few seconds before she finally freed his zip and shoved his cotton boxers low, exposing the shaft that Max had so swiftly enveloped in his mouth the previous week.
Silence permeated the room, broken only by the jagged breathing of the men beside her.
So focused had she been on her task, she’d failed to notice Trev and Max had ended their kiss and now both stared at her hands. Or Trev stared at her hands. Max’s gaze was fixed on Trev’s cock.
“Do it,” Max urged, his voice low and sexy as sin. “Touch him.”
As if she could stop herself. Armed with Max’s encouragement and a newfound strength in her convictions, she curled her fingers around the rigid shaft.
Trev’s breath escaped in a hiss. He straightened and threw his head back with a soft groan.
Her eyes closed as she absorbed his silky texture, his steel heat. She ran her hands up and down his length, loving the feel, loving his response—the harsh breath that rasped from Trev’s throat.
“Push his jeans down so he can take them off,” Max whispered in her ear.
Grace was curiously reluctant. She’d have to release Trev to do so.
As if sensing her dilemma, Max spoke again. “More freedom without pants. Better access.”
Ah, good points. She edged the jeans and boxers over Trev’s hips, pushed them down his thighs and let him finish the job.
Max was right. Way better access this way. Before Trev had kicked his jeans off, her hands were wrapped around his erection, one below the other.
“Hold him tighter,” Max instructed, “and ease your hands up and down real slow.” He cleared his throat as she followed his instructions. “Yeah, just like that.” As he spoke, he rocked his hips lightly, caressing her butt with his erection, or caressing himself on her butt, she couldn’t tell.
She didn’t care. Either way, the movement inflamed her. Heat flared between her legs. Her panties were sodden. Her mind was carefree.
“Now, faster,” Max said
Grace adjusted
No wonder she could no longer feel the warmth of his breath. Max was kissing Trev’s cheek, which explained the moan that echoed from his mouth into hers.
“Kiss me,” Max whispered, and instinctively Grace knew he spoke to Trev.
She pulled away. Not far, just giving herself enough space to watch as the men fused their lips together, to capture glimpses of pink as their tongues danced. She couldn’t look away, couldn’t close her eyes. All she could do was stare, entranced.
Her hand was captured by a larger one, a stronger one. It tugged, pulled her arm until her fingers touched supple denim. Then her hand was pushed flat against the denim, her palm neatly enveloping the hard bulge behind the soft material.
Trev bucked against her hand and she shuffled her butt, instinctively seeking out Max’s erection.
Ah. Right there. Still trapped beneath her, its length obvious against her cheeks.
Dear God. Two penises. Two erect, straining penises. One beneath her hand, one pressed to her ass. And two mouths, molded together in a kiss so hot she began to tremble.
Had she still been living in Adelaide under the watchful eyes of her parents, Grace would never have opened herself to this experience. She’d have run away as fast as possible.
But like Hunter had said, how could anything that made her feel this good, this happy, be wrong in any way?
It couldn’t. It was that simple. It was too beautiful, too right, to be wrong.
Max let out a low growl and thrust up against her buttocks, which served only to increase the intensity of her trembling. And the intensity of her changing beliefs. There was nothing wrong with this. Nothing at all. Perhaps in her parents’ eyes, but not in hers.
She fiddled with the button and zip on Trev’s jeans, wanting nothing more than to hold him in her hand, to feel the satin strength of his cock nestled in her grip.
Too difficult. Her hand wouldn’t stop shaking. She needed both hands for the task, and her full concentration.
It took a few seconds before she finally freed his zip and shoved his cotton boxers low, exposing the shaft that Max had so swiftly enveloped in his mouth the previous week.
Silence permeated the room, broken only by the jagged breathing of the men beside her.
So focused had she been on her task, she’d failed to notice Trev and Max had ended their kiss and now both stared at her hands. Or Trev stared at her hands. Max’s gaze was fixed on Trev’s cock.
“Do it,” Max urged, his voice low and sexy as sin. “Touch him.”
As if she could stop herself. Armed with Max’s encouragement and a newfound strength in her convictions, she curled her fingers around the rigid shaft.
Trev’s breath escaped in a hiss. He straightened and threw his head back with a soft groan.
Her eyes closed as she absorbed his silky texture, his steel heat. She ran her hands up and down his length, loving the feel, loving his response—the harsh breath that rasped from Trev’s throat.
“Push his jeans down so he can take them off,” Max whispered in her ear.
Grace was curiously reluctant. She’d have to release Trev to do so.
As if sensing her dilemma, Max spoke again. “More freedom without pants. Better access.”
Ah, good points. She edged the jeans and boxers over Trev’s hips, pushed them down his thighs and let him finish the job.
Max was right. Way better access this way. Before Trev had kicked his jeans off, her hands were wrapped around his erection, one below the other.
“Hold him tighter,” Max instructed, “and ease your hands up and down real slow.” He cleared his throat as she followed his instructions. “Yeah, just like that.” As he spoke, he rocked his hips lightly, caressing her butt with his erection, or caressing himself on her butt, she couldn’t tell.
She didn’t care. Either way, the movement inflamed her. Heat flared between her legs. Her panties were sodden. Her mind was carefree.
“Now, faster,” Max said
Grace adjusted
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