“Are you finally awake, duchess?”

I hugged the pillow to my chest, afraid to open my eyes and ruin the moment. I smiled into the pillow, his scent making me dizzy.

“I’ll just have to wake you up then.”

My toes curled as he spread my thighs and the warm, wet sensation went from dreamy-sweet to intense.

I reached up to find something to hang onto and found the corner of his mattress. He had me laid out diagonally on the bed. We’d been conforming to the human-sized Brutus all night, but he was gone.

Now there was just Nash. And his ridiculously talented tongue.

His laugh vibrated against my inner thigh. “That’s right, duchess. Hold on.”

He invaded every inch of me. There was nothing off-limits when it came to us in bed. Not that we generally did this sort of thing in a bed.

I scrabbled for the headboard. It was leather and smooth. Nothing to hold onto.

When he slid two fingers inside me, my eyes popped wide.

The bedside table came into view, as did an unblinking cat. “Oh, God.”

His dark laugh in answer ramped up the thick, syrupy drowning sensation I loved to lean into. No one could make me as mindless and blissfully empty as Alex, but I couldn’t…let go with a cat watching me.

Alex lifted me onto my knees, and I yelped.

Sarge lifted a paw and licked it, then stroked his ear. The whole time, still fucking watching.

“Ignore him.” Alex teased a thumb between my cheeks. “Concentrate on me.”

“I can’t.” I put my head into my hands. The T-shirt slid down to my neck, giving me a little cover, but I could still feel Sarge’s eyes on us.

Dispassionate and judgy at the same time.

Alex reached up to cup a breast, tugging at my nipple until I hissed out his name. “I thought you liked an audience.”

“Onstage,” I said on a groan. “God, what are you doing with your…”

His laugh was answered with the swirl of his tongue as he searched out every inch of my pussy. Then he flipped me over. “Eyes on me, Lindsey.”

My eyes widened. He so rarely said my real name. The Irish was thick and soft around it, making it sound even more like an endearment.

He slid his hand up over my hip, then detoured to the slim strip of blond hair above my slit. He followed the proverbial arrow to my clit and stroked it slowly. His eyes were more of a stormy silver in the sunlight. His dark hair tumbled around his face, making it seem softer and less severe.

Everything seemed easier today.

I reached for his hand, lacing my fingers with his between my legs.

Silver went to smoke as we both stroked the swollen folds.

I lifted my other hand to cup my breast.

“Shirt off. I want to see you.”

My smile was slow. I lifted the ancient Ramones shirt until the edge of one nipple was revealed.

His gaze narrowed and his fingers tightened around mine, peeling me open so he could take more. He flipped my knee over his shoulder to get me open even more. “Shirt.”

I tugged at my nipple and watched him. “Not yet.”