“If Shane could speak.”
“Shane can speak just fine,” he piped up, though there was a definite breathlessness to his voice. His fingers disappeared inside the front of Lucky’s waistband. The sudden dig of Lucky’s fingers into his back said Shane had found what he’d been looking for.
Lucky moaned and bit Shane’s shoulder, his eyes closing in bliss. Every line of his face betrayed just how good Shane’s hand felt, and for a moment, they were locked that way, skin glistening in the low light. Stella cupped her mound, the heel of her hand applying much needed pressure to her c**t. She was determined to remain on the couch until they were both undressed, but they were not making it easy.
After Shane’s shirt, the second garment to be discarded without a second thought was Lucky’s jacket. Shane
