Page 57 of Wicked Fantasies

He felt Kylie’s small hand lying lifeless on his chest and wondered when Heath had untied her. Reaching up, he drew it into his own big paw and dragged it up to his lips where he kissed it.

Heath repeated his earlier sentiment and he looked over to see his friend grinning at their exhausted forms.

“I’ve never seen a woman in the throes of an orgasm. I’m usually too busy trying to keep my eyes from rolling back in my head to appreciate the beauty of it. I could watch Kylie come a thousand times and never get sick of it.”

“I think I did come a thousand times.” Kylie’s eyes were tightly closed and her voice was hoarse. Her teasing words, so like her, lightened his heart.

Heath’s original concern about giving her all of themselves melted away like butter in the sun. She was with them in this adventure—hook, line and sinker.

More than that, she was every bit their equal. Her obvious enjoyment of their bed play, undeniable trust and lusty nature proved once again that Kylie Halston fit them to a tee, and while that thought thrilled him to his toes, it left him slightly uneasy as well.

When this weekend was over, how on earth would they ever return to their platonic friendship?

As he glanced at Heath, he saw the same concern written on his face. They listened as Kylie’s breathing grew slower and deeper as sleep claimed her. When they were sure she was asleep, Colt started to voice his fear.

“No.” Heath cut off his question with a quiet whisper. “It’s too soon for regrets. There will be plenty of time to figure this out at the end of the weekend. Let’s not worry about it until then.” Then Heath gave him a cat-who-ate-the-canary grin. “I have no intention of spoiling one second of this.”

Colt glanced down at Kylie’s sleeping form. “Me either.” Then before he could stop the words, he added, “She’s incredible, absolutely amazing.”

“More than amazing,” Heath agreed. “Better get some rest, buddy. Something tells me we’re going to need our strength.”

Heath wokeup alone in Colt’s bed. He frowned when he heard his friend’s off-key singing coming from the shower in the bathroom next door. Damn them.

He hopped out of the bed and stomped across the room, annoyed that Kylie and Colt had failed to wake him and were leaving him out of their water play. He was about to slam the bathroom door open when the sound of dishes rattling in the kitchen drew him up short. Colt was clearly showering alone.

Shaking himself for his anger, Heath headed down the hallway, grabbing a pair of sweats from his room and pulling them on before heading toward the smell of breakfast.

Kylie, dressed in his T-shirt and nothing else, was standing by the stove, frying up last night’s dinner. Heath rubbed his empty stomach as it dawned on him they’d forgotten to eat it.

“Now there’s a tasty-looking breakfast.”

Kylie threw a grin over her shoulder that changed immediately to a frown when she noticed him looking at her and not the food.

Pointing down at his apparent erection, she said, “Put that on the back burner, Frank Jr. I’m starving to death and nobody’s getting any more sex until I eat.”

Heath laughed as she called him by the nickname she’d given him in college. An architect, he idolized Frank Lloyd Wright the way most teens idolize rock stars.

Upon graduation, she dubbed him Frank Jr. and started calling Colt Baretta. The nicknames didn’t really stick and only reemerged whenever Kylie was annoyed with them.

“Seems to me, Colt and I worked pretty hard at keeping you filled up last night.” He walked toward her as he teased.

“Back off, buddy. I have a spatula and I’m not afraid to use it.”

He laughed and gave her a playful swat on the ass. At her sharp intake of breath, he looked down.

“The plug,” he said, the hunger in his stomach forgotten. “You still have it in?”

Kylie flushed slightly and he marveled at the sight. The woman never blushed.

“You didn’t say I could take it out,” she answered quietly.

“Show me.” His words were a demand as he was desperate to see the sight he’d missed last night.

“W-what?”

Stepping back, he pulled out a kitchen chair, sat down, and gestured for her to come closer. “Bend over and show it to me. You forget—Colt had the seat with a view last night. Not me.”

“But—”

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