Page 190 of Play Dirty

“Look at her,” someone murmured, the voice low and approving.

I didn’t even know who.

Didn’t care.

I was already gone.

Time became meaningless as I climaxed again and again. Wrapped around Grayson. Riding hard on Sebastian. Bent all the way over by Ares, while clutching the edge of the couch until my fists hurt.

Their voices were low. Broken by heat. Threaded through everything, as I was pulled. Passed. Caught again and turned over to whoever was next.

In the end they took their own pleasures, spending themselves on me. In me. All fucking over me. The heat of it was insane. The sound and the scent of it.

I reveled in it.

Wallowed in the heat of its aftermath.

And begged on my hands and knees for them to do it again.

Eventually we sank to the floor, spent and settled, the house silent around us. Ares's arm was still draped across my waist. Sebastian lay somewhere close enough that I could feel the rise and fall of his breathing. Grayson’s hand rested lightly on my thigh, just beneath my jersey. Like he wasn’t quite done holding on.

I let my eyes close.

Just for a second.

Just—

A small mechanical whirr cut through the silence. I blinked.

Another whirr.

“…no,” Sebastian mumbled.

My head lifted just enough to see it.

Sir-Cleans-a-Lot. Lighting up. Spinning once.

Then rolling directly toward us, droopy sword extended. Like a judgmental little robot on a grim crusade.

“Oh my GOD—” I choked, scrambling upright.

Pillows flew. Hands slipped. Someone swore.

“CLOTHES!”

Grayson was on his feet first. He began picking up articles of clothing and throwing them at the proper owner. A sock almost flew over Sebastian’s shoulder, but he saved it. Ares took a pair of boxers to the face.

Somewhere outside, a car door slammed. Voices carried.

“Hurry!”

I scrambled to find my thong — then remembered Grayson had picked it up earlier and playfully shot it like a rubber band to the other side of the room. It was too late, anyway. I barely had time to shimmy my jeans over my hips before the sound of the front door opening rang through the empty house.

By the time voices hit the hallway, we were more or less fully decent. Give or take an errant pillow.

That’s when I looked down to find Sir-Cleans-a-Lot, happily chewing on my underwear as it skittered across the floor.

“You really need to see that movie,” Zack said excitedly as he bounced into the room. “It was like a cross between—”