Daphne tried to cover her body from him, but he didn’t look away, catching sight of her pussy, cleanly shaven, and her full, ripe tits. Coated in water, all he wanted to do was lick them off.

Dean had looked happy with himself. Micah was pissed. Now it was his turn.

“Hello, beautiful.”

“God, don’t you know anything about personal space?” she asked, trying to cover herself.

“You don’t have to do that on my account. I rather like the way you look.”

She glared at him. “Get out.”

“I wanted to talk.”

“And can’t you see I’m busy?” she asked.

“Yes, touching that pretty cunt, and I have to say, the orgasm was hot, but not nearly as good as I can do it.” He wanted to be her hands.

It had taken every single ounce of control he possessed to keep his distance. It was so fucking hard, especially at her cries. She’d tried to contain them. When a woman came, it needed to be loud. Only then had she lost complete control, and when that happened, it was such a beautiful sight. One he’d love to show her.

She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. “I can’t believe you just said that. You need to leave.”

“No can do. Didn’t the cops already tell you that?”

She got the towel wrapped around her body and moved toward him, glaring. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, and I don’t like it. The best thing you and your friends can do is wait this out until you can leave.”

She tried to brush past him, but he wasn’t letting her leave so quickly. Holding her arm, he pulled her close, pressing her against the door.

“Let go of me,” she said.

He cupped her cheek, tilting her head back so he could look into her pretty brown eyes. “Did you know you cried out Dean’s name?” he asked.

It was subtle, hot as fuck, but it was there.

Eric didn’t think it was possible, but her cheeks went an even deeper shade of red.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her hands were on his shoulders, but she’d yet to push him away. Her lips were telling him to do one thing, as her body begged for another. Eric leaned forward, sliding his tongue across her pulse. Her hands fluttered as if she couldn’t quite contain her reaction.

He placed his palm flat on her stomach.

“You thought about him while you rubbed your pussy. I think Dean will be disappointed to know you failed to give yourself a proper orgasm,” he said.

“What do you want?” She cried out as he cupped her pussy. He moved the bath towel out of the way and felt her naked folds. No hair, smooth. He groaned, liking what he felt. Her lips were wet, but not as soaked as they needed to be.

“Push me away. Tell me to stop,” he said, pressing a finger to her swollen clit.

Sliding his tongue across her pulse, he nipped at her flesh, hearing her moan. It was deep. Her hands lowered from his chest and he waited a few seconds to see if she’d try to push him away again.

Nothing.

With an easy flick of the wrist, he had the towel in a heap on the floor, where it was meant to be.