Page 109 of Fire Island
“That’s fucking all.”
My hand reaches for his jawline as heat blooms in my center.
Heavens above. That really is all it takes for us.
He slides a hand over my belly. “How long’s Iris been upstairs?” His voice is low, rough.
“A couple minutes.”
His hand slips under my dress.
“What about Em?” I ask.
“I guess he’ll need a shower, too. Maybe we’ve got five minutes?”
His finger slips under the band of my panties, brushing over my aching center. I grab his head, turning it, and capture his mouth with mine. His thumb swirls around my clit as two fingers sink into me. “Oh, god, Cal.”
“Shhh. You’re going to have to swallow those pretty noises this time.”
“I can’t.”
“You want me to stop?”
I shake my head violently. “No, please . . .”
He curls his fingers forward, and I almost buck off the sofa.
Iris’s new sofa.
Shit.
“We should stop,” I pant.
“When you’re done, we will.”
“I—”
His thumb flicks my clit, over and over. My back arches, shoulders digging in as I climb up the back of the sofa. One hand on his jaw, one white-knuckling the arm of the couch. “Please, I’m going t?—”
My mouth gapes on a silent cry as release finds me.
“Good girl. Fuck, I love watching you come.”
He nips my earlobe before scraping his teeth over my neck.
Thunderous footsteps tumble down the stairs.
Emmett.
Cal removes his hand, sliding his fingers into his mouth. I readjust my dress and suck in long, slow, calming breaths. My face is flushed, my breathing far too erratic for someone who’s been reading on the sofa. Em walks past, freshly showered and in a polo and jeans. Corded forearms and bulging biceps have his shirt straining. His hair is still damp and a little messy.
Good lord, Iris must be freaking blind.
“Want a beer, Cal?” Em calls from the refrigerator that’s now open.
“Sure, bud.”
Cal tilts my chin with his hand and kisses my lips. “Be right back, mo ghràdh.”
