Page 150 of Wrong Pucking Jersey

I didn’t want to intrude when I woke up in a lavish living room on the comfiest suede sofa to exist. I went to the balcony because the door was left open, a sign that they had to be out talking while Maddox took a smoke.

When I arrive, I realize they’re having one of those moments, and I don’t want to ruin it with my entrance. The goal was to grab the lingering alcohol in the clear glass, so they knew I was indeed awake.

But how can a horny girl walk away from dirty talk that leads to the best live-action porn one has ever witnessed?

No.

Not me.

Mikayla Cross Johnson.

Horniest team nurse to grace upon her forbidden heartbreakers making out under the moonlight.

Silently sipping the strong alcoholic beverage, which I assume is gin, is hard enough, but quietly trying to slip your hand between your legs and rubbing the slick-covered pussy throbbing from the view was an even harder task.

A tiny part of me feared being caught.

For them to be disgusted.

Then there was the other part.

That silent part that’s been waiting to break free for years after I buried her away.

The risk taker.

The girl who was willing to do what gave her a thrill because it ignited joy and courage through her soul.

If these two love me, the sight of me fingering myself to them making out won’t be frowned on. This was the ultimate test, and I was going to determine whether my assumption was true or not.

Please let this be true…

Not a second later, after breathless pants and searching eyes, I watch the pair of honeycomb and dark chocolate hazelnut eyes land on me. It’s perfectly synced, leaving me mesmerized as I brace for what will happen.

Their eyes slowly descend upon my body, their pupils dilating with every inch of movement. When their gaze stills at my legs, my pussy pulses with need, making me press my thighs together as if to hide the obvious.

The palpable silence between the three of us is intense. I combat losing my confidence with this risky idea by taking a generous sip of gin. The bitter taste helps fight my nerves and thirst as I anxiously wait for either of them to make a move.

Or I can force it out of them.

“Don’t mind me,” I begin and finish whoever’s drink this is.I’m assuming it’s Damien’s.“Keep going.” My voice sounds foreign to me.

Seductive. Needy. Haunting with a dash of alluring bliss.

I know who’s going to make the first move—the one who’s always in control when dipping into unknown territory.

My eyes rise until they stare deeply into that honeycomb shade I’m madly in love with. My breath hitches the moment he grasps my jaw and his body presses against me.

I want his lips.

My body is begging to be lost in the sensational whirlwind of lust that kindles like a flame, reminding me how powerful this man’s touch is to me.

A weapon that can make me beg for more.

“Like what you see, baby girl?”

Let me just melt in a puddle of slick at this point. That deep velvety voice will be my end.

His thumb is next to further entice me, running along my bottom lip. I would love to feel the pinch of his teeth tugging the surface greedily. My tongue chases his thumb’s movement, wetting my bottom lip in hopes of getting exactly what I want.

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