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Grey’s arms enveloped her as she bucked in ecstasy, his weight coming on top of her as he continued to move inside her, riding her passion, prolonging her tremors, whispering dirty words about him, about her eating Heath.
Gasping for breath,Toni tipped her head back to Heath, and his eyes blazed as he watched her. Something wild flashed inside the pupils, primitive, thrilling and scary. Roughly, he pulled out of her mouth, fisted himself in his hand and pumped, angling his cock to her face, her lips, her mouth. His eyes were fevered.
His cum exploded across her face with one pull, blasting her skin with warmth. He spurted it across her lips, her chin, her cheeks and delivered several final, unbridled strokes, groaning a long, deep sound of contentment as he coated her with him.
Toni was still gasping from the shock when Grey tensed and released in her. In the aftermath, he propped himself up on his elbows to ease some of his weight off her as he rolled her over, smoothing one hand across her damp forehead.
“Look at this mess,” he said smilingly, but as his eyes coasted over her face, they became glazed, hungry. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”And then Grey bent, and his tongue began to lap at all of Heath that was on her.
Chapter Ten
“Did I fall asleep?”
Toni canted her head back and blinked. Fading sunlight filtered through the window of Heath’s room, and she guessed she must have dozed off before dinner.That was after the men had cornered her in the hall, backed her into Heath’s room, hoisted her up on the bed, determinedly opened her legs, and lapped at her pussy in unison—alternating their thrusts into her. She had come three times, once while they both speared their tongues into her sex. Then she had watched them come against each other.
She had never had sex like this.
The sight of the males rubbing against each other, their penises coated with each other’s cum while their bodies rocked in the aftermath, their mingled tastes when she went in to lick them side by side, drop by drop . . .
She shuddered at the memory, afraid that she was getting high on their sex, too dependent and drunk on it to think straight. She could only think of touching them, being touched, or baiting them to touch each other.
She was so lost in her reverie, it took her a second to realize Heath stared into her eyes with a singular look on his face, as though she were something priceless and riveting. Her jaw rested on his warm chest, and snuggled against his side she felt unexpectedly . . . comfortable. She had no inclination to get up, but instead found her fingers too eager to sift through the little hairs between his pecs. “Where did Grey go?”
“Phone.” He gave her an enlightened smile. “Or cleaning out his closet. I don’t know.The guy’s a freak.”
Her lips curled in the ends, one playful fingertip going to circle his nipple. “I love my freak.”
He chuckled, the vibrations humming through her. “I know you do.” He skimmed his knuckles down her cheek with tender familiarity, his arm tightening around her shoulders. “And I’ll have you know I can be very freaky, too.”
“Oh, really?”
“Be afraid,Toni. Be very afraid.”
Her eyes crinkled.“I’m shaking in my undies,” she teased.When he subjected her to a thorough scrutiny, she shifted up on her elbows and asked, “What’s your favorite color?”
“Black?”
“Why are you asking me?” At the uncertainty on his face, a laugh escaped her. “It’s either black or it isn’t,” she good-naturedly explained.
“All right. It is. Black.”
“Favorite band?”
“U2?”
“Why are you asking me!” She laughed again, both bewildered and enchanted. She was under the impression he’d have changed his answers just to please her. From such a dark, big, raw man, it was so endearing. Who would have thought Heath Solis would give a damn about what Toni thought of his choice of band? Really, what woman on earth would not want him?
“Tell me yours,” he encouraged, stacking his hands behind his head.
“I like blue and green. Fresh colors. And I like . . . well.” Her forehead furrowed as she considered. “I think I like solo singers better than bands. I like girly music.”
“Of course.”
“Madonna, Céline Dion—ooh, and I like Shakira.”
“Ahh, can you move your tushy for me like Shakira?”
“I can move my tushy all over you, Heathcliff.”
