Dean truly didn't take my clothes off. He went underneath.

While one hand was pulling the zipper of my jeans down, the other was sliding under my T-shirt.

The anticipation of what he had planned to do to me was enough to leave me panting. And by the time his dexterous fingers got to their two destinations, my pulse was throbbing between my thighs.

I gasped when his fingers took possession of one pebbled nipple under my bra. Almost at the same time, his other hand slipped in my panties.

"Sweet heaven, you're soaked."

I just moaned in reply. I had no words. Not when he had coated his fingers in my wetness and was now working on my clit.

He was playing me like an instrument, both my lower and upper body, and the noises he tore out of me spurred him on. He was rock-hard under me as though he was enjoying this as much as I was.

I rubbed against him as much as his hold on me would allow, and couldn't believe how long he felt against my bottom. His big feet and long fingers did not lie, then–

"Aaah..."

My hips bucked when he took my pleasure to another level by plunging two fingers inside me. But he held me tight against his chest, the hand massaging my breast also keeping me exactly where he wanted me.

It was where I wanted to be, too. A willing prisoner to the naughty intentions of a man with the single-minded focus to make me come.

His fingers were rubbing my sensitive walls in just the right way, all the while his palm was applying pressure on my clit. Add to that the magic the fingers of his other hand were doing on my nipple, circling and plucking at the hard bud, and I couldn't possibly last.

What was it with both Eric and Dean finding my G-spot so effortlessly? These males would drive me insane...

My back arched as Dean added a third finger inside me, and I instinctively dug my fingers in his forearm that lay over my chest. My other hand cupped his cheek in an attempt to somehow keep myself grounded.

It was futile.

When he sped his movements and whispered, "Let go, sweetie. I've got you," the orgasm swept me away.

Dean held me through it. He kept stroking me, more slowly now, drawing out my climax until I lay completely and utterly spent in his lap.

"Holy... hell. Dean, that was..."

"Yeah." He sounded as dopey as me, despite the situation in his pants still as hard as before.

I rubbed my cheek against his, a sign of affection among cat shifters.

He moved his hand from underneath my shirt to my waist and gave me a possessive squeeze. "Thank you for trusting me, sweetie."

A smile tugged at my lips. "It was my pleasure."

Dean laughed. "Mine, too. Anytime." Then he cupped my sex. "Want to play some more?"

Before I could ask what he wanted to play with – the joystick or what he had his hand on, he spoke again.

"Welcome home, pal. How was your day at work?"

I jumped off of Dean so fast that I nearly dislocated his wrist in the process. I all but face-planted on the floor in my haste to get as far away from the sofa as possible in a matter of seconds, a hand over my gaping jeans.

Because there, leaning on the other end of the sofa's back from Dean, was Sebastian.

With eyes the amber of his tiger and filled with hunger.

And locked on me.