...Susan closed her eyes and leaned her head against the leather seat. God only knew what was going through her mind right now. Dylan couldn’t tell if she was shamed, pissed, or really turned on. Heaven help him, but he was so turned on he couldn’t stand it, despite the fear and anger swirling around him. Cabot’s hurt explained it all away. He was reacting, getting even, lashing out. Dylan would allow this rare streak of sexual dominance. He owed that much at least to Cabot. Once it ran its course, Dylan would retake control.

Dylan skimmed his hand to her chest. Her skin was hot, nipples still thrust against her bra and dress. He dove into the cup to ease her breast.

“No,” Cabot said. “Yank down her dress and bra. I want to see her tit bounce free.”

Dylan grabbed the edge of the material and tugged it downward. Her breast surged out, nipple peaked and ready. He felt a zing along his cock and wedged his hand over it to quell the feeling.

“Beautiful,” Cabot said breathlessly. “And the other?”

Dylan freed it. Soft, creamy flesh tipped with light brown bull’s-eyes shook with every breath. Aroused, definitely aroused.

“Pinch one.”

He caught her nipple between thumb and forefinger. A tiny moan trickled from her throat.

“Harder,” Cabot ordered.

Dylan did so, twirling and tugging, and nearly coming when she gasped.

“Yesss.” Cabot sighed. “Better than I recall. They’re as hard as her clit.” He grinned. “And not nearly as slippery.” He thrust again and increased his motion.

“Now, Susan, you’re going to show me his cock. I know it’s as hard as mine. Thick and pulsing. Deep red with the head that lovely shade of purple. I’ve never seen a man who can come as much as he can. His stamina is…legendary. Would you agree?”

“Yes,” she gasped out.

“Maybe you pay him for the pleasure of his company. Now there’s a thought.” He chuckled. “I’m still waiting to see that cock, Susan.”

Her hands were steady as she thumbed open the jacket button and spread the edges to the side. A tug released Dylan’s fly and the zipper hissed down. She pushed aside the trousers, revealing his slate blue silk boxers beneath, damp with his pre-cum. Fingers slid into the fly.

“No,” Cabot said. “Pull the waistband down and behind his balls. I want him captured.”

Susan tucked her fingers beneath the elastic. She cupped his erection as she tugged down the boxers. Dylan strained into the caress, tightening his fingers automatically around the nipple still clenched between his thumb and forefinger. Susan whimpered and dove deeper, lifting his sac into her palm. Then she snapped the elastic in place behind them. Dylan flinched and choked down a gasp.

Yeah, pissed off, too. And not afraid to let him know it.

“Choke his cock in your fist,” Cabot told her and rubbed his hand over his own erection. “You’re going to jerk him off while I make you come.”

“But…his suit…”

“Doesn’t matter. He won’t be wearing it long.”

She clamped her hand around Dylan’s cock, squeezing so hard it hurt. He dropped his hold on her breast and clenched his jaw to hide his grimace. Cabot reached over and yanked open Dylan’s shirt. Buttons spit against the windows.

He was kneeling before them now, hand working relentlessly at Susan’s pussy while she flashed her fingers over Dylan’s cock. His cargo pants were around his knees, cock upthrust between the edges of his denim shirt. He danced his fingers over Dylan’s nipple and bent his head to Susan’s. She smothered a moan at the touch of his tongue. A low growl rumbled from Cabot’s throat and he sucked in her breast and pinched Dylan’s nipple hard.

Cabot jerked up his head, his gaze locked on Susan. “You have fuckable breasts. Who knew I would find them so intriguing? Maybe it’s because I know he’s touched them; his scent is on them. Would you let me? Would you let me fuck them, Susan, while his mouth hovers over you to catch my cum?”

Dylan braced himself for another chokehold, or to have his dick snapped off. Neither happened. He dared a glance her way. Susan’s mouth was agape, body open, hand flashing over his erection.