The thong fell to the ground, and once again Cheyenne turned, showing him all her charms. Cheyenne’s hand rested on Larry’s knee, her thumb tracing small circles through the fabric of his jeans. “Your house, it’s alive again,” John said, gesturing towards the vibrant plants near the window—Cheyenne’s doing. Larry fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, the sound of John clearing his throat, a startling reminder that he was not alone. The room tightened the second they settled, the air thick with the heady mix of perfume, laughter, and something far more dangerous. “Look at this,” Cheyenne said, lifting silk scarves, their fabric whispering secrets of nights filled with passion. Even when they can’t see it themselves,” Larry mused, a trace of wonder in his deep voice. “Do I look okay?”
“Just beautiful. John’s gaze held steady, a lighthouse in the storm of Larry’s emotions. “Hey,” she said, her voice light but threaded with an undercurrent of intent. “Cheyenne…” he began, but the words trailed off as he struggled to articulate the maelstrom of feelings inside him. What would Erin have said to you if she had come into this house when I first did? And then, with a shuddering gasp, Cheyenne felt a rush unlike any before, her body convulsing in a powerful release that left her breathless, the sensation so
