The Satin Sash

“Yes.” She bit her lip, tensing her muscles, trying to prolong the ecstasy. “You?”

He rasped, “I’m there.”

“You there?”

He gripped her hips, tendons straining in his neck as he began a series of rapid thrusts that sent her teeth jarring and her breasts jerking. “I’m there.”

“Grey . . .”

“Come with me.”

Toni’s head thrashed, her body convulsing over the table—coming as though at his command. Grey grunted as he continued to fuck, his balls slapping against her rear until one final delve lodged him in deep and he spilled with a deep, gruff sound.

She cradled the back of his head when he settled his cheek against her stomach and curled his arms around her waist.

“Hmm. So good.” He nuzzled her abdomen and kissed her just below her navel. “Want a bath?”

She sighed. “I’d love a bath.”

She stared thoughtfully at the fixture on the ceiling, listening to his retreating footsteps.

Within seconds he was back, waving her sash before her eyes—a bright red reminder of her wantonness. He studied the expression of uncertainty on her face, and tonelessly asked, “Did you give it to him?”

“Of course not,” she scoffed, struggling to sit.“Why would I do such a thing?”

He glanced at it with combined annoyance and indulgence. “He told me to wrap it around his door if I decided he should fuck you.”

Toes to her scalp, she blushed bright red. “Oh?”

He bent over her and whispered, in a voice that was frighten ingly low and erotically dangerous, “Say ménage, darling.”

She could not recover her breath. “What?”

“You might just get one.”

Hair wet from a recent bath and a towel wrapped around his hips, Heath dropped down on the bed and clicked the TV remote off. The tray from room service stood near the door, his burger and fries untouched for hours.

He sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. No use trying. He couldn’t get her off his mind. Grey’s girl. No. Grey’s woman.

Toni.

For two years it was all he’d heard from Grey.

Leaving for Cabo with Toni; will give you the new location update on Monday.

Moving to Toni’s; here’s the number.

Worse were the times Heath had called him at Toni’s only to hear his partner panting, and the unmistakable flirtatious purrs of a woman who, no doubt, seduced him while he spoke on the phone.

The first months, Heath actually didn’t give a damn about Toni. Grey’s women came and went, though admittedly not as quickly as Heath’s. But after a while Heath began to respect the woman who could keep Grey so . . . well, frankly, so goddamned happy.And then came the worst part.To his shock, Heath started to wonder what it would be like to have a Toni for himself.

The first time he heard her voice over the phone, he swore he’d just been kicked in the nuts. He didn’t remember what she said or how he replied, but he remembered the instant, painful throb in his dick. Her silky, I’ve-just-been-fucked timbre followed him for weeks. Heath began to fantasize about her. Toni. Wanton sex goddess. Toni. Seductive siren.Toni. Elusive, faceless Toni.

On his subsequent trip to their Puerto Rican offices, he’d found a pretty little twenty-year-old at a bar and taken her up to his hotel room. Burning for weeks that had felt like years, he kissed her, groped her body over her clothes and whispered her name.

“But . . . that’s not my name.”

Heath drew in a deep breath, jarred from the fantasy.“Let’s play a little game,” he said in a husky tone as he sat her on the bed and slowly started to undress her. “You call me Heath, and I call you Toni, hmm?”