When I pull up into Seb’s driveway tonight, I feel good. Better than good. I can’t wait to see Moira. I kill the engine and slide out of the car, pocketing my keys and heading for the door. I still remember the first time I met her. It wasn’t unusual to see Seb with a pretty girl. Between his looks, charm, and money, he made his way through his fair share of them. He started to resent the ones who only came with the money, though. One of the girls he dated even had money herself—old money, which apparently means something to people. Personally I don’t understand how there’s more prestige in inheriting a fortune from some dead grandpa who made a fortune in publishing back in the day than guys like me and Seb who busted our asses to make every dime we have, but “society people” are ass backward about that shit. This one girl, Evelyn Curtis, was the worst of them. Even with Seb’s financial situation being what it is, she never felt he was good enough to introduce to her family.

He dumped her ass, then suddenly she came around to his new money. Tried to explain the unique pressure she was under, being so special.

God, she sucked. I was glad when he dumped her.

Especially because he met Moira shortly after, and I liked Moira on sight. It wasn’t just her looks. Moira is a looker, no question, but she exudes a sweetness that a lot of ladies these days don’t. There’s a spark of gentleness in her. It’s not hidden. It’s there in the sweet sound of her voice, the kindness in her eyes. The night I met her, I joined them for dinner at a restaurant; Moira went out of her way to talk to me and make sure I felt welcome. She didn’t have to. I felt welcome the first time she smiled at me.

It took a while before I started to feel jealous, though. I liked her too much, enjoyed being around her. I had always more or less had Seb to myself, even when he was seeing someone, but with Moira it was different. I kind of figured she’d be the one he married right from the get-go. You could just tell.

Now I stand outside the door of their house and I don’t know whether I should knock or let myself in. Formality wins out and I press the illuminated round button. I hear the doorbell ring out inside the house and a minute later I can see the outline of Moira’s figure approaching through the frosted glass of the door.

The door opens and she greets me with a smile, putting an earring in her left earlobe. “Hey, Griff. Come on in. I just need five more minutes.”

She changed clothes. I don’t know why I’m so pleased to see that; she looked lovely in what she wore earlier, but she changed into a sexy-as-hell black cocktail dress that hugs her curves just right. She’s dressing up to go out with me, like she’s excited. I can’t tear my eyes away from her as I step inside. She leans behind me to close the door, and I can’t help catching her around the waist and pulling her close for a kiss.

She stops fiddling with her earring and wraps her arms around my neck, drawing closer, slanting her mouth over mine and closing her eyes as she kisses me back. Blood rushes through my veins, heading straight for my cock. Fuck, I’m not supposed to be turned on already.

After a minute, she breaks the kiss and smiles at me mischievously. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you like the dress.”

“I’m a big fan of this dress, but an even bigger fan of the body it’s covering up.”

She grins, playfully swatting my arm and turning away to head for the bathroom. “You better stop that or we’ll never get out of here.”

That Chinese takeout is starting to sound damn good. The restaurant I made reservations at is great, but the chef is a real high-maintenance pain in the ass. Dinner and dessert will take every bit of two hours, maybe two and a half.

I adjust my slacks, watching her ass as she walks away. I guess a few hours having to look at her in this dress isn’t so bad when I consider what I get to do to her as soon as we leave.

Seb is the best fucking friend in the world. I know I give him hell sometimes, but damn.

Moira comes back a few minutes later with a fitted black coat over her dress and a pearl-encrusted clip in her hair. She styled her hair up tonight with a few loose locks hanging down. She’s so pretty I could die just looking at her.

Her blue eyes shine with affection as she takes my arm. “You look very handsome tonight.”

I tear my gaze from her to look down at myself. I wore a blue suit with a white shirt and matching navy tie. I’m not really all about suits, but Seb has been since we could afford them. He wanted us to look the part when we first had the money but didn’t feel like we really fit the part yet. We could wrap ourselves up in as many $4,000 suits as we wanted, but I still felt like the kid who wore hoodies ‘cause no one bought him a winter coat and he was too surly to ask for one.

I’m a long way from that now, though. Moira’s looking at me like she can’t see that kid, and if she could, she’d have bought him a fucking coat herself.

I take her out to the car and open the door for her. She gives me a smile and a thank-you as she slides in the passenger seat. Honest to God, I can’t believe this is happening. Seb’s the kind of guy who gets the girl like Moira; I’m the guy who only dreams about her from afar. Only here she is in my car, all dolled up to go out with me.

Once we get out of the driveway, I ask her, “So, how are you doing with all this?”

“The sharing?” she questions. “Well, I certainly have no cause to complain so far.”

That draws a smile out of me. “Glad to hear it.”

“How about you? Are you feeling good about it today?”

Is she kidding me? “I don’t see how I could feel any other way, to be honest.”

“I know Sebastian has a sort of… transactional view of things sometimes. He sees something that needs to be done and then he does it. I didn’t think that would extend to this, but… well, here we are.”

I nod my head in understanding. “I just wanted to make sure you feel good about it. I know Seb can steamroll over people sometimes when he gets an idea in his head, and I know you tend to be pretty submissive to him. I don’t want you to be here because you feel like you have to be.”

She reaches her hand over and places it on my thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I want to be here, Griff.”

“Was last night okay?” I ask, daring a glance in her direction.

“If I said no after four orgasms, someone would need to show up and punch me in the face,” she informs me.

That surprises a shot of laughter out of me. “Four? I counted three.”

“You miscounted,” she says, slyly.

“Damn, we do some good tag team work, don’t we?”

Moira grins. “You sure do.”

The restaurant I picked out for us has valet parking, so we stop out front and give the attendant my keys. I feel a little like a king, placing my hand at the small of Moira’s back and escorting her inside. A couple men turn their heads to watch as she walks by. If she notices, she doesn’t show it. Of course, she’s probably used to it. When she and Seb are out, they get looks from both sexes, ogling the pair of them as if resenting their monopoly on good looks. If people stick around long enough to notice how in love they are, they just have to hate them. No one should look the way they do and be so goddamn happy, to boot.

Tonight it’s me, though.

Tonight I get to be the luckiest bastard in the city.

The waiter brings us cocktails while we look over the menu. I don’t even like half the shit on it, honestly, but I like the atmosphere of this place. It feels private and intimate, even though you’re in a room full of people. I only brought Ashley here twice. The first time was all right, but the second time she ran into someone whose name she could drop later, so she invited them to join us and I had to spend the whole dinner sitting there, listening to them talk about dumb shit I couldn’t give a fuck less about. Ashley regularly talked about shit I couldn’t give a fuck less about and I listened like any good husband, but when it’s three against one and they won’t shut up? I wanted to offer to pay for them to eat and slip out by myself.

After that I was too worried we would run into someone again and I didn’t want to come back. Ashley came without me a few times, with friends—though now I wonder if they were friends at all. I never really worried about her spending time with other men, but I guess I should have.

“Do you have a lot of male friends?”

Moira glances up as she takes a sip of her drink, then shakes her head. “No, not really. I have a few male acquaintances, but no one I really consider a friend.” She gives me a funny little smile. “That’s an odd question to lead with.”

I frown a little, nodding my agreement. “Yeah, it was. Sorry. I was thinking about—” I stop, my frown deepening. Talking about the wife I’m not quite divorced from yet and how she probably cheated on me with all her male friends probably isn’t the right foot to lead with.

She seems to understand exactly what I’m thinking about, though. Her smile sobers and she glances at the table. “You know, before I met Seb I dated this real asshat. I don’t remember if I ever mentioned him—probably not. But we dated off and on for about a year. I was miserable after six months, I just couldn’t figure out how to get out of it. I thought maybe it was just a rough patch, but it was the strangest thing—I’m really not an insecure person, I don’t worry about other women, but I started to feel like I couldn’t trust him. His behavior got really sketchy. He’d keep his phone tilted and turned so I couldn’t see it, he’d cancel or change plans at the last minute, all that kind of stuff. My sister insisted he was cheating on me. I didn’t believe her, but I couldn’t bring myself to shake the insecurity anyway. So one night he pulled his ‘plans changed last minute’ shit when he was supposedly hanging out with a friend. My sister got fed up; she dragged me to her car and went to the place he said he would be hanging out with his friends. He wasn’t there. So my sister—who, I should warn you, is a raging lunatic—loads me back in the car and hauls me around to all his usual haunts, looking for his car. This could have been a profound waste of time, but we got ice cream sundaes while we did all this, and when are ice cream sundaes ever a waste of time?”

I’m baffled that there exists a man idiotic enough to step out on her, but I offer a smile and shake my head. “Never.”

She nods. “So, Gwen finally found his car. We went inside to see who he was with, and he was there with some brunette chick. We didn’t confront him, Gwen just hauled me back out to his car, handed me her sundae, and got out a tube of lipstick. She wrote ‘cheating whore’ on his windshield, ‘tiny dick’ on the driver’s side window, and ‘minute man’ on the passenger side window.”

I want to be pissed off on her behalf over this cheating asshole, but Moira’s laughing at the memory, so it must not hurt too much.

“Anyway,” she says, shaking her head and smiling as she looks down at the menu. “I digressed a bit, but the moral of the story is, I have been cheated on and I know how shitty it feels. Obviously we weren’t married and it’s far worse that Ashley did this to you after making that kind of commitment, but I understand that it can mess with your ability to trust. That’s what I was getting at. And also, I would never do that to someone.”

“Neither would I,” I assure her.

“I know,” she says, smiling softly. “And if you do, my sister will vandalize your vehicle, so you’ve been warned.”

“I like your sister,” I tell her. “I need to meet this woman. I wanna shake her hand.”

“You met her. Remember at the wedding? Gwen was my maid of honor.”

“That’s right. I didn’t know this story then, though. I wasn’t appropriately impressed.”

Moira smiles. “Long story short, you don’t have to worry about me having male friends. If you did have to worry about that, I wouldn’t be worth holding onto.”

I shake my head, glancing up at her. “You’re far more sensible than I was at your age.”

She shrugs her shoulders, perusing the menu. “I’m glad he cheated now. Imagine how much longer I might’ve stayed with him. I would’ve never met Sebastian. If he had asked me out that day, I wouldn’t have been able to go. It all worked out. Change isn’t always such a bad thing.”

“My relationship with change has been a little rockier. When I was younger, I hated it. I hated the instability of everything. I just wanted something solid and reliable.”

“Then you met Sebastian?” she inquires.

I nod my head. “Mr. Solid and Reliable.”

Her smile warms with love. “He is. Sebastian is wonderful.”

“Agreed.”

“I wish I had known you back then,” she tells me. “You guys needed a friend.”

I can’t help smirking. “We had Stella.”

“Ugh,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “I said friend, not tricky little ho.”

“We had each other. That was all we needed. Besides, you would’ve been a kid back then. When I was 18, you were only, what, 11?”

Moira rolls her eyes at me. “That’s not such an enormous age difference.”

“Not now that it makes you 24, but back then it would’ve been a little unsettling.”

I see the server headed our way, so I ask her, “Do you know what you want to order?”

“I’m so much more interested in the dessert. There’s chocolate soufflé and crème brûlée. How’s a girl to choose?”

“Well, we have three courses to get through before we come to that life-altering decision.”

“Why don’t you pick for me?” she suggests. “No oysters or escargot. Otherwise whatever you want.”

Whatever I want? I’m not the one eating it. I have no idea what her tastes are. She’s already decided the matter though, putting the menu down and turning her attention to her drink.

The nice things about restaurants like these are the chefs don’t like giving you too many options. Each course only has four choices and she told me what she didn’t want, so I make sure to order us both different things; if she doesn’t like what I ordered for her, we can swap plates and she can have mine.

I bet Seb orders for her all the time. He’s a bossy motherfucker. Always had to be, so he learned to love the role.

“Do you and Seb come here?”

Moira shakes her head, gently placing her cocktail back down. “We came once to see what all the fuss was about but we didn’t like it so much that we went out of our way to come again. It was a different menu then, though,” she adds, probably realizing she’s telling me she’s not too fond of the place I picked. “I’m excited to try what you ordered tonight. And I do remember the crème brûlée was delicious.”

“We’ll get one of each and we can share, if you’d like,” I offer.

“I would like that very much, thank you.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me for things,” I tell her.

Lightly rolling her eyes, she says, “I don’t remember how to do first dates. It’s been a long time. I never thought I’d go on one again, so I threw out the manual.”

My eye gets drawn to the sight of her left hand, decked out with a sizeable engagement ring and a platinum wedding band. I look at my own hand, suddenly missing the wedding band I’ve worn for years. I actually didn’t take it off until this morning. Didn’t feel right to wear it after last night. You can still see a faint indent on my finger where it used to be.

“Do you miss her?” Moira asks, gingerly.

“No,” I answer, quickly.

“It’s okay if you do,” she assures me, empathetically. “She was part of your life for years. That would be completely natural.”

“It’s not that I miss her,” I say, shaking my head. “Honestly, I wish now I’d never married her. She’s being a pain in the ass about the divorce.”

“Do you think she’s still in love with you?”

My eyebrows rise and I look up at her. “No, I think by the time she took the third or fourth dick that wasn’t mine, she was pretty firmly not in love with me.”

Moira darts a look to our left, then our right, subtly making sure no one overheard.

“Sorry,” I mutter, grabbing my drink and taking a long sip.

“No worries. I just don’t want gossips to hear your business. Sometimes the people who come here are real busybodies, you know?”

“Yeah, I know that.” I lower my glass to table with a thud and look across the table at her. “I don’t want to talk about Ashley.”

“We don’t have to,” she assures me. “Just know that we can, if you ever feel like it. Just because we’re lovers now doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends.”

Lovers. That’s sure an odd thing to hear coming from her mouth.

By the time the first course arrives, Moira is tipsy. Cocktails seemed like a good idea to calm our nerves, but they made them strong and I didn’t consider what a lightweight Moira is.

When Moira gets tipsy, her sexuality comes out to play. Ordinarily she’s a lady in public—even if she enjoys being fucked from both ends by two men, apparently—but the alcohol melts away her inhibitions in grand fashion.

Smiling at me across the table as the server clears away her barely touched second course, she asks, “What’s the first sexual thought you ever had about me?”

The server pauses and stares down at her, and I can guess he’s having his first sexual thought about her right now. I stare at him until he catches my eye, then he flushes and hastens away from the table.

I look at Moira, the little minx, still sultry and playful. “I honestly can’t remember. There have been too many over the years.”

“Have you ever had a sex dream about me?”

“Oh, yeah. Many times.”

She grins, pleased by this information as she sips what’s left of her drink, just barely enough to cover the ice cubes. “I had some pretty dirty thoughts about you the night you spent in the guest room. When you asked me to help undress you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mm hmm,” she verifies, nodding her head. “I shouldn’t have at that point. That was naughty of me.”

The playful way she says it gives me cause to shift in my seat. Now I’m thinking about the blue satin negligee she wore that night, how she didn’t have on any panties underneath. “You wouldn’t happen to be wearing anything like you wore that night underneath that dress, now, would you?”

Moira doesn’t blink. “I’m wearing a black lacy thong under this dress. Nothing else. Figured I’d save you a little time when you take it off me tonight.”

My cock jumps to life, hearing her say that—knowing it’s real. I really get to do that as soon as we get out of here.

Fuck, where is that waiter with the third course? She’s talking like this and I already promised her dessert.

Seb was right; we should’ve kept it simple tonight. I should’ve just taken her for a simple dinner and drinks—I do like the tempting shit that comes out of her mouth when she drinks.

“You know what? I think I just remembered the first time I had a dirty thought about you,” I tell her.

Her eyes dance with merriment and she clasps her hands together with exaggerated glee. “Tell me.”

“We were all hanging out and you had too much to drink. You were sitting on Seb’s lap and getting way too handsy. I was starting to get antsy so I went to the bathroom, mostly just to get away from you. When I came out, you were waiting in the hall to go in. You beamed a smile up at me and went to squeeze past me, but you tripped over my boot and fell right up against me. I swear to God, I felt my heart fall right out of my body. You just smiled up at me, went ‘whoops’ and sauntered right into the bathroom. You didn’t even shut the door—I had to do it real quick before you dropped those snug jeans you were wearing and really ruined my life.”

Moira laughs a little, shaking her head. “I’m such a slutty drunk.”

“You’re not slutty, you’re just relaxed… and okay, sure, a little more sexual, but there’s nothing wrong with that. I was worried that night, though. I was one part turned on, but also worried you might end up in a bad situation, doing shit like that.”

“I could’ve,” she says, but not with nearly enough soberness. Instead, her big blue eyes widen theatrically and she leans across the table. “You know what could’ve happened?”

Oh no, I can feel one of her dirty stories coming on.

I search the vicinity for the waiter. Come on, asshole, bring out the duck so we can get the fuck out of here.

“You could have been a real asshole. Maybe you liked the feeling of my body pushed up against yours. Maybe you liked it so much that instead of shutting the door and leaving me to my privacy, you followed me inside. Locked the door, so no one could walk in on us.”

I’m already visualizing her story, even if I would’ve never done that. The guy in her story is a creep, and I may not be perfect, but I wouldn’t corner my friend’s drunk girlfriend in a bathroom and come onto her. Still, I’m probably gonna like her depraved story. I always liked these fucking things, even if I couldn’t understand how they came out of a sweet girl like Moira.

Then again, if she came four times between the two of us last night, I’m probably still underestimating her sexual appetite just because I keep pigeon-holing her into this sweet category. Moira’s gotta have a little bit of kinkiness in her to enjoy what she enjoys—maybe even to be with Seb in the first place.

“Now we’re all alone in the bathroom,” she continues. “Me, I’m a little drunk, a little vulnerable. I don’t immediately understand why you locked the door. I don’t really care.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. It’s already depraved, and my cock is already rising at her enjoyment of her own story.

“Then you walk me back up against the wall, pin my arms above me at the wrist while you slide your hand down the front of my jeans.” She covers her mouth with one hand, feigning shock. “I’m not wearing any panties.”

Where is the fucking duck? I’m ready to cancel the rest of the damn order and just haul her ass out of here. At this rate, she might attack me in the car, and the whole point of this night was to do this right. I want to get her home first.

“You sure are happy now. You cover me with your hand and slide a finger inside me.” She lets out a little noise, half sigh, half moan. “I’m already wet for you, Griff.”

“Fuck me,” I mutter. I finally catch sight of the water, so I wave him over.

Moira grins. “I didn’t get to finish my story. What are you doing?”

“I’m very interested in this story, but we need to get you that dessert.”

The waiter approaches, appearing confused. “Did you need something, sir?”

“Yes, I need you to box up the chicken and the duck. Can you just bring out the dessert? We’re sort of... in a hurry.”

He fails to bite back a smile. “I bet you are. I’ll see what I can do.”

I sigh, raking a hand through my hair as he walks away.

Moira looks quite pleased with herself. She tilts her glass back and drains the last drops of liquid, then she sets it down and tells me, “I can’t wait to have your cock inside me, Griff.”

“You are the devil,” I inform her.

She grins at me across the table. “There’s a reason Sebastian calls me his little minx.”

“How do you go from housewife to sex kitten on a dime like that?” I ask, shaking my head.

Moira smirks. “Lots of practice. Little bit of alcohol doesn’t hurt.”

* * *

Through sheer force of will, we finish dessert. We make it back to the house and stumble through the front door. Moira already has her arms looped around my neck, her lips attached to mine.

I taste the faintest trace of dessert on her lips. Her kisses are like crème brûlée—molten sweetness that I want more of as soon as it’s gone.

Now her lips are gone, and I feel bereft. She only broke away to shove her coat off though, then she’s back, pulling herself even closer, her sweet lips brushing mine. I can’t shake the idea that this can’t be real. I can’t shake the feeling of being an imposter here, of stealing a spot in a life that doesn’t belong to me with a woman who isn’t mine to kiss.

It’s only night one, I remind myself.

Well, night two if last night counts. I guess it has to.

Moira breaks away with a little smile and takes my hand so she can lead me up the stairs. It reminds me of that night a few weeks ago when she picked me up and brought me back here.

I remember she’s wearing a black lacy thong and nothing else beneath that dress. I can’t wait to see that.

Turns out, I don’t have to wait long. As soon as we’re in the bedroom, Moira turns her back to me. “Unzip me, please.”

I’ve always liked this part. It’s so intimate, being in the bedroom with a woman, helping her undress. Moira’s bare shoulders are too tempting to pass up; I bend to kiss my way across them, running my fingers lightly down her arms. Her soft sigh of pleasure is like a salve to my battered ego. Moira’s used to Seb, and here she is reveling in my touch.

Once I’m done kissing her, I grab the zipper and pull it down, revealing inch after inch of exposed skin. Moira tugs the dress down past her hips and shimmies right out of it. She tosses me a saucy smile over her shoulder, then bends at the waist to grab the dress. She lingers, giving me a painfully good view of her ass in that black lacy thong she told me about.

I grab her hips and yank her back against me, making her feel how hard I am. Her blue eyes look darker as she turns back to face me, lust written all across her pretty features.

“You want me, Griff?” she teases.

My hungry gaze rakes across her perfect breasts, down her flat abdomen and settles on the black triangle of fabric between her legs. “You have no idea.”

She leans in and kisses me, murmuring against my lips, “Then take me.”

I don’t have to be told twice.

I grab her ass and lift her. She wraps her legs around my waist and I carry her over to the bed. I love the way she smiles at me, the way her blue eyes sparkle, the way she rests her hands on my shoulders.

I can’t believe I get to do this.

I can’t shake it. I try, I tell myself I’m allowed to be here, but it keeps washing over me. I put her down on the bed and she scoots back, making room for me. I crawl over her, trapping her beneath me and gathering her arms at the wrist, pinning them over her head, just like in the fragment of story she told me.

Moira’s eyes close and she sighs with pleasure. “Oh, yes.”

“Yeah?” I murmur, leaning down to kiss along her jawline. I keep her arms pinned with one hand, but I drop down to kiss her breasts, taking a nipple into my mouth and licking the already-pebbled tip until she’s moaning and writhing beneath me. I turn my attention to the other one. My free hand drifts down her abdomen and I rub her through the lacy fabric.

“Griff,” she says, on a moan. Her legs spread for me, welcoming me—and only me—to touch her. My finger moves beneath the fabric and I feel how slick she is already. It goes straight to my cock. That’s for me. She wants me.

I release her wrists and pull my hand from her panties before I even get to play with her. I’m wearing far too many items of clothing. I shrug my jacket off and toss it, then start to unhook my belt, but Moira puts her hands on mine and stops me.

For a second, my heart stalls. Is she having second thoughts? I’ll die of blue balls here and now if she changes her mind.

Her smile turns sly, like she knows she just gave me half a heart attack, then she begins unbuckling my belt herself. “I want to open my present,” she tells me, winking at me as she feeds the leather through the buckle.

I can’t help smiling, even as she torments me, unbuckling my belt and dragging it off as slowly as she fucking can. “Your present, huh?”

She nods her head. “I want to taste it. It’s been almost a whole day since I had your cock in my mouth, Griff. That’s far too long.”

Fuck me. “You’re something else, you know that?” I ask her.

With exaggerated innocence, she runs her hand over my cock through the fabric of my slacks. “That’s a good thing, right?”

“A great thing,” I verify.

She smiles and unbuttons my pants, unzipping them and tugging them down. I ease back off the bed so I can shove them down, then I make quick work of my shirt and join her back on the bed.

“Lie down,” she tells me, climbing up on her knees. “I want to taste you before you fuck me.”

I damn sure don’t argue. I watch Moira’s breasts until she sits on top of me, her back to me. I groan as she leans down, giving me a perfect view of that thong-covered ass. She grips the base of my cock and gives it a couple gentle strokes. This is a view to fucking die for. She knows it, too. She wiggles her ass as she bends her head and guides my cock into the hot paradise of her mouth.

It’s basically an out of body experience, Moira sitting on top of me, laboring over my cock. I can’t keep my hands off her. I run a hand over that beautiful ass of hers, then slide my hand beneath her so I can play with her pussy while she blows me. Her moan reverberates around my cock and I thrust my head back against the bedding. Her mouth doesn’t let up. She’s like a fucking Hoover. Holy shit. Now that I’m fingering her and toying with her clit, she keeps moaning around my cock.

This is the pinnacle of fucking pleasure, but I need to be inside her and she’s doing good work. I pull her off my dick and toss her on her back, climbing on top of her.

“That is a beautiful fucking mouth you’ve got there,” I tell her.

“Glad you like it,” she says, smiling as I yank the lacy fabric down her legs and toss it behind me.

I want to be inside her, but I want her to come on my face first so I pin down her hips—she likes to try to squirm away—and bend down, latching onto her pussy. She lets out a moan and reaches down to tangle her fingers in my hair. I savor her little whimpers and moans as I lick along her pussy, drawing her clit into my mouth and sucking.

“Oh, God, Griff,” she cries, her fingers curling in my hair and tugging.

I keep stimulating her clit, but I slide a finger inside her tight entrance while I do and she gasps. I work my finger in and out of her, but all I can think about is how fucking tight her cunt is going to feel around my cock.

She cries out my name again and bucks her hips. I push a second finger inside her, pumping my fingers fast, zeroing in on her clit until she gets there.

“Griff!” She screams my name and my cock jumps as she groans. Fuck, I already love to make her come. I barely let her recover from her orgasm. Her body is limp as I move to my knees, lifting her legs and hooking them over my shoulders. She’s trying to come back around, but I don’t wait—I grasp my cock and push it up against her tight little hole. Fuck, it feels good as I push inside her. She moans as I fill her, then moans more as I pull out and shove back inside her.

“Your pussy feels like heaven, you know that?”

“Having you inside me is heaven,” she tells me. “Fuck me harder, Griff. Take everything you want from me.”

It’s hard to let loose with Moira—she’s petite and delicate-looking, while I’m nearly 240 lbs of muscle. I don’t feel like she can handle me at full capacity. She’s used to Seb’s roughness, but he isn’t as bulky as I am. I saw he wasn’t afraid to fuck her full-force last night, but I’m a little worried I’ll hurt her.

She must be able to see it. “I can take it,” she assures me. “Give me all you’ve got, Griff. Fuck me like this is the only time you’ll get to, and you never want me to forget.”

Her words send a specific wave of fear lancing through me. Like this is the only time? I only just got her. I need more than once. Nonetheless, her words fill me with a sense of urgency. I give it to her a little harder. When she takes it in stride, I pull out, turn her over so she’s face-down in the pillow, and drive my cock inside her from behind.

“Oh, God, yes,” she murmurs, reaching above her for something to hold onto.

I grab a fistful of her hair and pull her back like a bow as I piston my hips inside her even harder. “Like that?” I ask, roughly.

Her body moves with the violence of my thrusts, but she manages an enthusiastic, “Yes.”

I shake my head, taken off guard. This isn’t what I imagined Moira like in bed. I like it. I like it a lot.

She pushes against the bed so she can meet my hips thrust for thrust. She really gets into it, moaning, crying out, telling me, “Fuck me, Griff. Give it to me. Oh, God, yes.”

She’s magnificent. When she’s close again, I want her to come more than I can remember wanting anything. I want her pussy squeezing my cock, her beautiful sounds emanating from her throat as pleasure I provided courses through her sweet little body.

Satisfaction surges through me when she does. I summon the willpower to last through her clenching—I want to make sure she gets every second of pleasure, so I fuck her like a ragdoll even as she cries out, pleasure erupting inside her.

When her body sags, I turn her over on her back and bury myself inside her so I can watch her face. It only takes a couple thrusts until I join her, emptying myself, pouring the last of my strength for the moment into her pussy. I come down on top of her and Moira wraps her arms around me, holding me close, pressing her lips against my shoulder.

Moira sighs contentedly and the sound goes straight to my heart. Contentment rolls over me too, like it’s contagious. I don’t want to crush her, so I pull out of her body and roll over beside her. I’m closer to Seb’s side than the side I slept on last night, but I don’t intend on staying here, I just want to get my weight off her.

Moira snuggles up close and drapes her arm across my waist. I must not be close enough, because next she hooks her legs over mine and uses it to drag herself even closer.

I laugh lightly, snaking an arm beneath her and pulling her on top of me.

“Great, now I’m gonna crush you,” she tells me.

“Yes, all ten pounds of you,” I shoot back.

She runs her fingers through my hair and waits for me to catch my breath, then she scoots off me and heads to the bathroom. A moment later she returns and climbs in bed beside me. She rests her face on my chest and looks up at me. “Thanks for taking me out tonight.”

“Of course,” I reply, running my finger along her arm. “Thanks for letting me.”

She smiles and pecks me on the mouth before settling back into my embrace and closing her eyes. Her head gets heavier after a few minutes, her breathing even. She fell asleep in my arms.

I try to fall asleep with her, but I can’t. I keep running over the events of the night, the memories she stirred, thoughts of last night. I sure didn’t expect to fall asleep with another woman this soon after leaving Ashley. That it’s Moira naked and sated in my arms is un-fucking-believable.

I don’t really think about the fact that I’m on the wrong side of the bed until I hear Seb’s car pull into the driveway. It’s late and I still haven’t slept, I’ve just been enjoying holding Moira, but Seb wastes little time coming upstairs. The bedroom door swings open and he steps inside. His gaze sweeps across Moira in my arms, then me, then his spot.

“Remember how I said you could fuck my wife, just stay out of my spot?” he asks, idly. “Was that not generous enough for you?”

I crack a smile. “I’m not in your spot. If anything, I’m in Moira’s spot.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Griff, but you’re not the one I want to cuddle with.”

“The feeling is mutual,” I assure him.

He lifts his eyebrows, his blue eyes twinkling with devious intent. “We could wake her up.”

“She’s tired.”

Now he rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure you wore her out. She could still go another round.”

“You just fucked her last night. Seems like tonight should be mine.”

This seems to amuse him. He smirks at me as he sheds his jacket and starts to unbutton his dress shirt. “Is that a joke? We fuck every night. We’re not 80. I’m willing to share; I’m not willing to go to bed every other night without my wife.”

“So, is that how this goes? I’m the guest? I don’t get her to myself any nights?”

“Maybe once in a while. Not every other night. Is your masculinity threatened by sharing a bed with me and the woman we both fuck now?”

I roll my eyes. “No, my masculinity is just fucking fine. I don’t live here, though. If I’m going to spend the night from time to time, I need to leave a couple outfits here. This morning after run-around is going to get old fast.”

Seb steps out of his slacks and drapes them over the chair on his side of the bed. “That’s fine. You can fill the closet in the guest room, the bathroom—put whatever you want in there. Make it yours. I like having you here. It’s like old times.”

I smile faintly. “A little more spacious.”

“Plus we have someone to keep us fed now,” he points out.

“And our balls empty.”

Seb laughs shortly. “Yeah, Moira’s a pretty good deal all the way around.”

I’m taken off guard by the peaceful little minx snuggled up against me suddenly whacking me in the stomach.

Sebastian’s gaze jumps across the bed. He’s faintly amused instead of alarmed that she overheard us being assholes. “Evening, sweetheart.”

She narrows her eyes at him, then me. “You’re both terrible. I’m not just a chef or a warm body to stick your dicks into. I thought you were gentlemen. I hope you both enjoy blue balls, because these legs are closed for the next few nights.”

I go conciliatory, rubbing her arm. “We were just joking around. You know we don’t really think of you as—” I can’t even repeat what we just said, so I probably shouldn’t have said it in the first place. “I’m sorry.”

She appears slightly mollified, but her expectant gaze drifts to Seb.

“I’m not.” He shakes his head, his expression dry as hell. “Nice try, sweetheart.”

“Blue balls forever,” she tells him.

“Never make a threat you can’t follow through with. Then people won’t take you seriously,” he advises her.

“Then I guess I can never have sex with you or cook for you again,” she states, primly.

He climbs on the bed and heads in my direction aggressively enough that I almost move, but I feel absurdly like I should keep myself between him and Moira.

He grabs her and drags her over my body, back into her spot. I scoot back over where I belong, and Seb cradles the back of Moira’s neck in his hand, drawing her in for a tender kiss. Her hand drifts to his side and she leans closer, despite her announcement that he was in for a week’s worth of blue balls. He kisses her a little longer and she sinks against him, sighing softly in defeat.

Then, because he has a point to prove, he pushes her down to suck his dick. She goes without complaint. I can’t really complain either; I get a damn good view of her ass as she labors over his cock the way she labored over mine earlier. My arousal stirs watching her go down on him, listening to her faint moans of pleasure. They’re not as frequent or as desperate as when we both fucked her, but every last one of her moans turn me on.

Thankfully, she finishes him off before I can get too revved up.

Seb smacks her ass when she’s done, then drags her against his side and kisses the crown of her head. “See what I mean, sweetheart? No follow through.”

“I’m going to make you weak-ass coffee in the morning,” she mutters. “Like a teaspoon of coffee grounds and that’s it.”

Seb grins. I shake my head. It isn’t news that he has Moira wrapped around his dick, so I shouldn’t even be surprised.