Terrence's hands tightened on her hips, and Leah felt the word still hanging in the air between them. Yes. She'd said yes. The sun was warm on her bare skin, and she was naked except for the ruined panties, and Travis was watching from somewhere across the pool deck, and she was about to let a stranger put his mouth on her with her husband's cum still inside her.
She didn't close her eyes. She wanted to see it happen.
Terrence lowered himself, his knees hitting the concrete, and for a moment he just looked at her. At the swell of her thighs, at the damp fabric of the panties, at the evidence of what had already been done to her. His breath was warm through the thin cotton.
"Fuck," he breathed, and it wasn't a question or a prayer. Just acknowledgment.
His thumbs hooked into the waistband of the panties, and he looked up at her. Checking. Making sure.
Leah nodded.
He pulled them down, slow, and the air hit her where she was wet and open and full of Travis's spend. She felt it start to leak, felt the slick warmth slide down her inner thigh, and Terrence made a sound low in his throat that she felt more than heard.
"She's already full," DeShawn said from somewhere behind her, his voice rough with appreciation. "Damn."
Terrence didn't answer. His hands spread her thighs, pushed them wider apart on the stool, and then his mouth was on her.
Leah's breath caught. His tongue was broad and flat, dragging up through the mess of her, through the cum that was still warm and Travis's and someone else's—Darius's, the night before, all of it mixed together. Terrence groaned against her, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips, and he didn't pull away.
He lapped at her like he was tasting something rare. Like he knew exactly what he was getting and wanted every second of it.
Darius moved into her field of vision, his arms crossed, watching. Malik was still behind her—she felt his presence, felt the heat of his body even though he wasn't touching her. DeShawn had stepped closer, and she could feel his gaze on her face, on her tits, on the way her body was responding to Terrence's mouth.
"You like that?" Darius asked. His voice was calm, measured. "Having his tongue on you with my cum still inside?"
Leah couldn't form words. Her head fell back, and a sound escaped her throat that was almost a moan.
"I'll take that as a yes."
Terrence's tongue pushed inside her, and she gasped. He was thorough, methodical, working his way into her like he had all the time in the world. His nose pressed against her clit, and she felt the vibration of his groan through her whole body.
"She taste good?" Malik asked. His voice was lower than the others. Darker.
Terrence pulled back just enough to answer, his mouth wet, his chin slick. "Like she's been waiting for us."
He went back in before she could process what that meant.
Leah's hands found his head, her fingers threading through his hair. She didn't push or pull. She just held on, grounding herself as his tongue worked her open, as the heat built in her belly, as the sun beat down on her bare skin and the afternoon stretched out like something endless.
Across the pool deck, she could feel Travis watching. She didn't turn to look at him. She didn't need to. His presence was a pressure at the edge of her awareness, steady and constant, and she knew he was seeing everything. Every twitch. Every sound. Every time her thighs tensed around Terrence's head.
Darius stepped closer. His hand came up, and she felt his fingers under her chin, tilting her face toward him.
"Look at me," he said.
She did.
"You're going to come on his face," he said. "And then we're going to take you to my room, and you're going to take all of us. One at a time. However we want you. Do you understand?"
Leah's breath was coming in short, shallow pulls. Terrence's tongue was circling her clit now, and the pressure was building, winding tight in her gut.
"Yes," she managed.
"Yes what?"
"Yes—yes, I understand."
Darius's thumb traced her lower lip. "Good girl."
The words hit her like a current. Her hips bucked against Terrence's mouth, and she felt herself start to fall apart, the orgasm rising up from somewhere deep and pulling her under. She heard herself moan—a broken, desperate sound—and Terrence didn't let up. He worked her through it, his tongue steady, his hands gripping her thighs to keep her spread open for him.
She came with her fingers in his hair and Darius's thumb on her lip and the sun in her eyes and the knowledge that Travis was watching from across the water.
When she finally stopped trembling, Terrence pulled back. His mouth and chin were slick, and he wiped the back of his hand across his lips with a satisfied smile.
"She tastes even better than she looks," he said.
DeShawn laughed, low and appreciative. "Told you."
Leah was still catching her breath when Darius's hands found her waist and lifted her off the stool. Her legs were shaky, and she stumbled against him, her bare skin pressed against his chest through his shirt.
"We're taking her to my room," Darius said. It wasn't a question. He looked across the pool deck, and she followed his gaze to where Travis stood, arms crossed, watching.
Travis nodded.
Just once. Small. Final.
Darius's hand found her ass, gripping hard, and he steered her toward the hotel's interior doors. Terrence and DeShawn fell in on either side, and Malik brought up the rear. She was naked except for the panties bunched around one ankle, and none of them seemed to care that the pool deck had other people on it, that the sun was still high, that anyone could see.
A woman in a lounge chair looked up as they passed, her eyes widening. She didn't look away.
Leah felt the weight of that stare like a physical thing. She should have been embarrassed. She should have wanted to cover herself. But all she felt was the heat of their bodies around her, the press of Darius's hand on her ass, the slickness still between her thighs.
She felt wanted.
The hotel corridor was cool and dark, the air-conditioning a shock against her heated skin. Terrence's hand found her breast, squeezing, his thumb dragging across her nipple. She gasped, and he smiled.
"Sensitive?" he asked.
She didn't answer. She didn't have to. His hand stayed where it was, possessive and warm.
DeShawn's hand slid down her back, over the curve of her ass, dipping between her thighs from behind. She felt his fingers find her wetness, felt him press inside her without preamble, and she stumbled in her stride.
"Fuck," she breathed.
"She's soaked," DeShawn said, like he was reporting the weather. "Still full of it."
Darius glanced back. "Good. Keep her that way."
They reached a door at the end of the hall. Darius pulled out a key card, swiped it, and pushed the door open. The room was dim, curtains drawn, a single lamp casting amber light across the bed.
It was a king. White sheets. A view of the city through the gap in the curtains.
Darius stepped aside and gestured for her to enter. "After you."
Leah walked in, her bare feet on the carpet, and she felt them follow. The door clicked shut behind them. The lock engaged.
And then there was no more waiting.
Darius's hand was in her hair before she could turn around, pulling her head back, exposing her throat. His mouth found her neck, teeth and tongue, and she felt herself melt into him.
"You know what's going to happen now," he said against her skin.
"Yes."
"Tell me."
"You're going to use me."
His grip tightened. "All of us."
"All of you."
Terrence's hands found her from behind, cupping her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples. DeShawn was already unbuckling his belt. Malik was by the window, watching, his dark eyes unreadable as always.
Darius pulled her toward the bed and pushed her onto it. The sheets were cool against her back. She looked up at them—four men, silhouetted against the dim light—and she felt the weight of their attention like a physical pressure.
"Spread your legs," Darius said.
She did.
He looked at her for a long moment, taking in the sight of her open and ready, the evidence of other men still on her skin.
Then he unbuckled his pants.
Leah watched his hands work the buckle, the zipper's metallic rasp loud in the quiet room. Her heart was hammering against her ribs, and she felt the wetness between her thighs—her own now, mixed with what was left of Travis's, mixed with the memory of Terrence's tongue.
DeShawn had his cock out before Darius even finished with his belt. He stroked himself once, slow, watching her with heavy-lidded eyes. "Been waiting for this since I saw you at the bar," he said. "That sundress was doing a lot of work, but I could tell what was underneath."
Terrence was already pulling off his shirt, revealing a chest that was broad and solid, a thin line of hair trailing down his stomach. "She's fucking perfect," he said, and it wasn't directed at anyone. Just a fact he was putting into the air.
Malik still hadn't moved from the window. His arms were crossed, and he was watching her like she was a puzzle he was trying to solve. She felt his gaze like a different kind of pressure—cooler, more patient. Like he was waiting for something specific.
Darius's pants dropped to the floor. His cock was hard, curving up against his stomach, and she remembered the feel of it inside her. The stretch. The depth. The way he'd filled her completely.
"You remember this," he said. It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
"Good." He climbed onto the bed, his knees settling on either side of her hips. "Then you know what I like."
He didn't enter her. Not yet. He just hovered over her, his cock brushing against her thigh, and looked down at her face. His hand came up to her throat—not squeezing, just resting there, his thumb on her pulse point.
"You're shaking," he said.
"I'm not."
"You are." His thumb pressed slightly, a warning. "But that's okay. I like it."
Terrence moved behind her on the bed, his hands finding her shoulders, pulling her up into a sitting position. She was between them now—Darius in front of her, Terrence behind, DeShawn standing at the edge of the bed with his cock in his hand, Malik still watching from the window.
"Open your mouth," Darius said.
She did.
He guided himself in, and she felt the weight of him on her tongue, the salt and heat of his skin. He pushed deeper, not rough but deliberate, filling her mouth until she felt the head of his cock at the back of her throat.
"That's it," he breathed. "Just like that."
Her hands found his thighs, gripping them for balance as he began to move. Slow at first, letting her adjust, letting her find the rhythm. Terrence's hands were on her breasts, cupping and squeezing, his thumbs dragging across her nipples until they were hard and aching.
DeShawn stepped closer. His cock was inches from her face, and she could see the pre-cum glistening at the tip.
"Don't forget about me," he said.
She reached for him without thinking, her hand wrapping around his shaft, and he groaned. "Yeah. Like that."
She was being pulled in two directions—Darius in her mouth, DeShawn in her hand—and Terrence behind her, his mouth on her neck, his fingers pinching her nipples. She was surrounded by them, consumed by them, and she felt herself sinking into it, the part of her that was Leah Decker, wife, fading into something simpler. Something that just wanted to be used.
Darius's hand tightened in her hair. "Look at me."
She did, her eyes watering as he pushed deeper.
"You love this," he said. "Don't you?"
She couldn't answer. Not with her mouth full. But she moaned around him, and that was answer enough.
Terrence's hand slid down her stomach, between her thighs, and she felt his fingers find her wetness. He pushed two inside her without warning, and she gasped around Darius's cock, her body jerking.
"She's so fucking tight," Terrence said, his voice rough. "And she's still wet from earlier. You can feel it."
DeShawn's hand covered hers on his cock, guiding her strokes. "Faster," he said. "Like you mean it."
She obeyed. She was obeying all of them, her body moving in response to their hands, their voices, their demands. Darius fucked her mouth with increasing urgency, his hips snapping forward, and she felt the vibration of his groan through her whole skull.
"I'm close," he said. "You want it?"
She couldn't nod with his cock in her throat, but she made a sound that she hoped was yes.
He pulled out at the last second, his cum hitting her lips, her chin, her chest. Hot and thick, painting her skin. She heard herself gasp for air as he stroked himself through it, the last drops landing on her tongue.
"Swallow," he said.
She did.
DeShawn was watching her, his hand still wrapped around hers on his cock. "My turn," he said, and he guided her head toward him.
She opened her mouth again.
DeShawn's cock pushed past her lips before she'd fully opened, the head sliding across her tongue, salty and thick. Her hand was still wrapped around his shaft from before, and now he guided himself deeper, his fingers threading through her hair as he found his rhythm. She tasted the pre-cum beading at the tip, felt his thigh muscles tense under her palm.
Behind her, Terrence's hands were still on her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples until they were hard peaks. She was caught between them, suspended in the heat of their attention, when she heard the shift.
A creak of the floorboards. Slow. Deliberate.
Not the hurried steps of a man eager to join. The measured stride of someone who had been waiting, watching, and had decided it was time.
Malik.
Leah's eyes flicked to the side, trying to track his movement without pulling away from DeShawn. The dim lamplight caught his silhouette as he crossed the room, his arms still crossed, his face unreadable. He stopped at the foot of the bed, looking down at her spread legs, at the way she was bent forward, DeShawn's cock in her mouth.
Darius's grip tightened in her hair, holding her steady. "Don't stop," he said, and she felt the command reverberate through her skull. She kept moving, her tongue tracing the underside of DeShawn's shaft as he pushed deeper.
Malik didn't speak. He just moved.
His hand found her ankle.
The touch was cool, his fingers wrapping around the bone with a firm, deliberate grip. Leah felt the shock of contact travel up her leg, a current that made her hips twitch on the sheets. She tried to look at him, but DeShawn's cock was too deep, filling her throat, and all she could see was the dark shape of Malik's body at the edge of the bed.
Then he pulled.
Her legs slid apart, wider than they'd been, the sheets bunching under her thighs. She felt exposed in a way that was different from before—more deliberate, more claimed. His hand stayed on her ankle, his grip firm, and she felt the pad of his thumb press into the soft skin just above her bone.
"Hold her head still," Malik said.
His voice was low, quiet, like stone scraping against stone. He wasn't looking at Darius when he said it. He was looking at her. At the way DeShawn's cock moved in and out of her mouth. At the way her body responded to his grip.
Darius's hands tightened in her hair, pinning her in place. She couldn't move her head now, couldn't adjust the angle of DeShawn's thrusts. She was fixed, open, available.
"Like this?" Darius asked.
Malik didn't answer. He just shifted his grip on her ankle, sliding his hand up an inch, stopping at the curve of her calf. The heat of his palm was a brand against her skin.
"I want to watch her take him properly," Malik said. "No rushing. No pulling away. She takes all of it."
DeShawn's rhythm changed. Slower. Deeper. Each thrust pushing her throat open, making her gag and swallow and adjust. She could feel the tears start to gather at the corners of her eyes, but she didn't try to pull back. She couldn't. Darius's grip was too firm, and Malik's hand was still on her leg, waiting, watching.
Terrence's fingers found her nipple, pinching hard, and she moaned around DeShawn's cock. The vibration made him groan, his hips stuttering against her mouth.
"Fuck," he breathed. "She's good at this."
Malik's thumb traced a circle on her calf. "She's been trained well."
The words hit her like a slap. Trained. Like she was something that had been shaped, molded, broken in. And she knew he was right. Travis had trained her. Darius had trained her. And now Malik was watching the results.
DeShawn's hand found the back of her head, pressing her deeper. "Look at me," he said.
She did. Her eyes met his, and she saw the hunger there, the raw need. He was close. She could feel it in the way his cock throbbed against her tongue, in the way his breath came in short, sharp gasps.
"You want it?" he asked.
She couldn't nod. But she made a sound, low and desperate, and that was enough.
"Yeah," he groaned. "Take it."
His hips slammed forward one last time, and she felt the first hot pulse against her tongue. She swallowed automatically, her throat working around him, and he let out a shuddering breath as he emptied into her mouth. She kept swallowing, taking every drop, her eyes locked on his as he came undone.
When he finally pulled back, his cock slipped from her lips wet and spent. She closed her mouth, the taste of him thick on her tongue, and she felt a line of saliva and cum trail down her chin.
Malik's grip on her calf tightened. Just once. A pulse.
"Good," he said.
It was the first thing he'd said that wasn't a command. Just an observation. A judgment.
Darius released her hair, and she slumped forward, her forehead pressing into the sheets. Her jaw ached. Her throat burned. And somewhere deep inside her, a part of her that she was still learning to name felt a satisfaction that was almost sickening.
Terrence's hands slid down her back, over the curve of her ass, and she felt him spread her cheeks. "She's still dripping," he said. "All that cum she's been carrying around."
Malik's hand was still on her leg. He hadn't moved it. Hadn't touched her anywhere else. His grip was firm, his thumb resting on the inside of her calf, and she could feel the heat of his skin, the weight of his attention.
"I want to taste her," Terrence said, his voice rough with anticipation.
Malik didn't answer. He just looked at Leah, his dark eyes unreadable.
She felt his gaze like a physical weight. He hadn't touched her anywhere but her leg. He hadn't whispered a single endearment or insult. And yet she felt more claimed by his stillness, by the quiet authority in his hand on her ankle, than by any of the other men's urgent grasping.
Darius moved, shifting on the bed, and she heard the rustle of fabric. "Flip her over," he said. "I want her on her back."
Terrence's hands found her hips, turning her, and she let herself be moved like a doll. Her back hit the sheets, the lamp casting her shadow across the ceiling. Her legs were still spread, her pussy exposed, slick with Travis's cum and her own wetness and the evidence of everything that had happened since they'd left the pool deck.
Malik's hand slid from her calf to her ankle again, repositioning, spreading her wider. He still hadn't moved up. He still hadn't claimed more than that single point of contact.
Terrence crawled between her thighs, his mouth hovering over her. "You ready for round two?"
She didn't answer. She just looked at Malik.
He was standing at the foot of the bed, her ankle in his hand, watching her like she was a problem he was solving. His face was still, his eyes dark, and she realized she hadn't seen him blink since he'd crossed the room.
"Not yet," Malik said.
Terrence froze. "What?"
"I said not yet." Malik's voice was calm, unhurried. "I want to see how she looks when she's being filled."
Darius's eyebrow rose. "You want her on her stomach?"
"No." Malik's hand tightened on her ankle. "I want her on her back. Legs spread. And I want to watch you put another load inside her."
Leah's breath caught. The words were clinical. Precise. But the way he said them, the way his thumb pressed into the soft skin of her ankle—it was the first time she'd felt the full weight of his attention.
Darius was already moving, his cock half-hard from watching her take DeShawn. He crawled up the bed, positioning himself between her thighs, his knees pushing her legs wider. "You heard him," he said. "Open up."
She did.
He entered her in one slow, deliberate thrust, and she felt the stretch, the fullness, the familiar ache of being taken. Her back arched, and a sound escaped her throat—half moan, half sob.
Malik's hand was still on her ankle. He hadn't moved. He hadn't done anything but hold her leg and watch.
And yet she felt his presence more than Darius's, more than Terrence's hands gripping her hips, more than DeShawn's appreciative whistle from somewhere behind her.
"That's it," Malik said, his voice soft. "Don't look away."
She didn't.
His hand closed around her ankle, his grip firm, and he had not yet touched her anywhere else.
Darius moved inside her, his rhythm steady and deep, and Leah felt the weight of Malik's gaze like a second presence on her skin. The lamp cast long shadows across the ceiling, and she watched them shift with each of Darius's thrusts, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
Terrence's hands were on her breasts again, his thumbs dragging across her nipples, but she barely felt them. All her attention was on the man at the foot of the bed, the one who hadn't done anything but hold her ankle and watch.
Malik's thumb traced the curve of her ankle bone. Slow. Deliberate. Like he was memorizing the shape of her.
"You're watching me," he said.
It wasn't a question. She nodded anyway.
"Good." His grip tightened, just enough to feel. "Keep watching."
Darius's hand found her hip, angling her, and she felt the head of his cock press against something deeper inside her. She gasped, her hips bucking against him, and Malik's eyes tracked the movement like a predator following its prey.
"She responds well," Malik said. It wasn't directed at anyone. Just an observation he was putting into the air.
Terrence grunted in agreement. "Been responsive since we got her on the pool deck."
"That's not what I mean." Malik's voice was quiet, but it cut through the room like a blade. "She responds to attention. To being watched. She performs."
Leah felt the words settle into her chest. He was right. She didn't know how he'd seen it so quickly, but he had. The way she held eye contact. The way her body moved when she knew someone was looking. The way she'd been performing for Travis since the moment they'd met.
Darius's pace quickened, his breath coming harder. "Fuck," he groaned. "She's clenching around me."
"Because you're not the one she's performing for," Malik said.
Darius's eyes flicked to him, and something passed between them—a challenge, maybe, or an acknowledgment. Then he looked back at Leah, his hand sliding up from her hip to her throat.
"Is that true?" he asked. "You performing for him?"
Leah's mouth opened, but no words came out. She didn't know how to answer. She was performing for all of them. She was performing for Travis, who was somewhere in the hotel, waiting. She was performing for the woman on the pool deck who had stared at her naked body. She was performing for herself, for the part of her that needed to be wanted.
Malik's thumb pressed into the soft skin of her inner ankle. "She doesn't have to answer. Her body already did."
Darius's grip on her throat tightened, and he drove into her harder, faster. The slap of skin filled the room, and Leah felt herself being pulled under again, the heat building in her belly, the familiar ache of an orgasm she hadn't earned yet.
"Don't come," Malik said.
The command hit her like cold water, and she felt her body fight against it, the orgasm stalling at the edge of release. She gasped, her hands fisting in the sheets, and Darius kept driving into her, relentless, his breath ragged above her.
"She was right there," Darius said, his voice strained.
"I know." Malik's thumb traced another circle on her ankle. "That's why I stopped her."
Leah's chest heaved. She was suspended, caught between the ache of denied release and the strange satisfaction of being controlled so precisely. Her eyes stayed locked on Malik's, and she saw something flicker in his dark gaze—approval, maybe. Or curiosity.
"You can feel it, can't you?" Malik asked her. "The way your body wants to obey."
She couldn't answer. Her throat was too tight, her breath too shallow. But she nodded, a small, jerky movement.
"Good." His grip on her ankle shifted, his fingers sliding up to the curve of her calf. "Then you'll wait until I tell you."
Darius slowed his pace, his hips rolling against hers in a deep, grinding rhythm. "How long?"
"Until I've seen what I need to see."
Terrence's hands had stilled on her breasts, and she felt him lean back, watching the exchange. DeShawn had moved to the side of the bed, his spent cock still in his hand, his eyes tracking Malik's movements with a wariness that suggested he'd seen this side of his friend before.
Malik released her ankle.
For a moment, she felt the absence of his touch like a loss. Then he moved, his body shifting around the foot of the bed, and she tracked his silhouette against the dim light. He stopped at the headboard, just behind Darius's shoulder, and looked down at her from a new angle.
"You're doing well," he said. Quiet. Intimate. Like it was just the two of them in the room.
Leah felt the words settle into her chest, warm and heavy. She didn't know why his approval mattered more than the others'. Maybe because he'd held back. Maybe because he'd watched first, judged second, and acted only when he was certain.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Malik's head tilted, a fraction of an inch. "You don't thank me for telling you the truth."
Darius's hand found her hip, angling her deeper, and she felt the head of his cock press against the spot that made her see stars. She bit her lip, trying to hold back the sound, but it escaped anyway—a high, keening moan that seemed to hang in the air.
"She's close again," Darius said.
Malik's hand came up, and she watched it move through the lamplight. He didn't touch her. He just held his palm an inch above her stomach, feeling the heat of her skin without contact.
"Not yet," he said. "I want to see her face when she's empty."
Darius's rhythm faltered. "What?"
"Pull out." Malik's voice was calm, unhurried. "I want to see the look on her face when she's not being filled."
Darius's jaw tightened, but he obeyed. He pulled out slowly, his cock sliding free of her with a wet sound, and Leah felt the sudden emptiness like a physical wound. Her body clenched around nothing, desperate and aching.
A sob escaped her throat. She didn't mean for it to. It just came, raw and involuntary.
Malik's hand finally touched her. His palm settled on her stomach, flat and warm, and she felt the weight of it like an anchor.
"There it is," he said softly. "That's what I wanted to see."
She looked up at him, her vision blurry with unshed tears. His face was still unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes were soft. Almost tender.
"You're beautiful when you're desperate," he said.
Terrence shifted behind her, his voice rough. "Can I taste her now?"
Malik didn't look away from her face. "Yes. But slowly. I want to watch her feel every second of it."
Terrence moved between her thighs, his breath warm against her slick skin. He didn't dive in like before. He started with a single, slow drag of his tongue, from her entrance to her clit, tasting the mess of cum and wetness that coated her.
Leah's back arched, and she felt Malik's hand press down on her stomach, holding her still.
"Watch me," Malik said.
She did. Her eyes stayed on his as Terrence's tongue worked her open, as the heat built in her belly again, as the ache of denied release grew sharper and more desperate. Malik's hand was a steady pressure on her skin, grounding her, and she felt like she was falling into his dark eyes, into the quiet authority that radiated from him like heat from a fire.
"You're going to come for me," Malik said. "When I tell you. Not before."
She nodded, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.
"Say it."
"I'm going to come for you," she repeated, her voice barely a whisper.
"When I tell you."
"When you tell me."
Malik's hand slid up her stomach, over her ribs, coming to rest just below her breast. He didn't cup her. He didn't squeeze. He just let his palm rest there, feeling her heartbeat through her skin.
"Good girl," he said.
The words hit her like a current, and she felt her hips buck against Terrence's mouth. She was so close. So desperately close. But she held it, her body trembling with the effort, her eyes locked on Malik's.
Terrence's tongue circled her clit, and she felt the pressure build to an almost unbearable peak. A sound escaped her—a whimper, broken and pleading.
"Please," she gasped.
Malik's thumb traced the curve of her breast. "Please what?"
"Please let me come."
He held her gaze for a long moment, his face still, his eyes unreadable. Then the corner of his mouth twitched, the smallest hint of a smile.
"Come," he said.
She shattered.
The orgasm ripped through her, violent and consuming, and she heard herself cry out as her body convulsed against Terrence's mouth. He didn't stop, his tongue working her through it, and she felt wave after wave of pleasure crash through her, pulling her under, drowning her.
Malik's hand stayed on her chest, feeling her heartbeat race and slow, race and slow.
When she finally stopped trembling, Terrence pulled back, his chin slick, his grin wide. "Fuck. That was worth the wait."
Leah lay limp on the sheets, her chest heaving, her eyes still locked on Malik's. He hadn't moved. His hand was still on her chest, his thumb tracing lazy circles on her skin.
"You did well," he said. "Now rest. We're not done with you yet."