Maisie
"Did you know," Jericho said, eyes lifting to Quinlan as his stroked himself with his free hand, refusing me the touch I strained toward. "The anticipation gets her hotter than the touch?"
I pushed down the frustration beginning to rise in my chest as I fought back. My hips shifted, grinding into Quinlan. The air in the room licked at my center and I stifled another moan.
"It's that mind of hers," Quinlan murmured, hands kneading my ass as he pulled the inch he'd slipped in out, and I felt him fist himself and repeat the wretched action of rubbing back and forth against me, coating himself with me.
"Always thinking things she assumes we know nothing of. But I do beg to differ. Maisie is as much a creature of lust as we are. Her mind may concoct, but she craves touch. Starving her of it is the easiest way to break her defiance. Give it five minutes and she'll be begging."
