Sometime around my eighth orgasm of the night, I felt eyes on my face. Looking up, I appreciated the long lines of Brody’s face as his head was thrown back in pleasure, his eyes closed. And just past his head was Sheriff Walker Walton, watching us with true hunger contorting his face. Brody was so far gone, his movements ragged as he thrust in time with my sucking motions, that he didn’t even sense Walker in the room.
