Maisie
Four strides.
I counted them. Jericho ate up the distance and the chair scraped against the tile and Jericho sat.
Running his fingertips along his bottom lip, he took us in. He watched the beads of sweat spread along my skin. He watched my teeth sink into my lower lip. He watched the arch of my spine, the curve of my legs around Quinlan's torso.
His gaze lowered and darkened.
"Let me see," he told Quinlan, but Quinlan's fingers only tightened on my ass, keeping me in place on his groin. He rolled his hip upwards when I stared too long at Jericho and I gasped a new pitch.
"What did I say about looking elsewhere when I'm inside you?" he growled against my collarbone, voice close to animal as he rutted up and up.
