“God, Wick,” she whines, threading her fingers into my hair. “What are you three doing to me?” The question is delivered on the cusp of a breathless chuckle, and it’s Pace who answers. “Worshiping you.” I feel his hand sliding over her ribs, searching until his fingers find the seal of my lips. “Although Wick’s always had a bit of an oral fixation. Isn’t that right?” Not missing a beat, I take his finger into my mouth, giving it a long suck, and he spits a sharp curse. Glancing up, I smirk around his digit. How’s that for skillmanship, fucker?
