The penthouse was silent, charged with an energy that was part healing, part raw, animal hunger. The air crackled with unspoken things, thick with the scent of their dripping arousal. I didn't speak.
I simply moved to the large, central section of the sofa and sat, sinking into the plush leather with a sigh of contentment.
I looked at them, my gaze a silent, commanding invitation.
Madison moved first, a confident, possessive grace in her stride. She slid onto the cushion beside me, her body molding to my side, her full breasts pressing hard against my arm as her thigh slid over mine.
Patricia hesitated for only a second, a flicker of old uncertainty in her eyes, before it was washed away by the new, deeper need.
She sank to her knees on the floor beside my legs, her hands resting lightly on my thigh, a gesture of adoration, her fingers already trembling with the urge to grip harder.
