Foreman couldn't remember the last time it had been this easy to lose control with a woman. Amber had spent the last six weeks learning his every response, every move and touch that brought him, trembling, out of his skin. There was always a moment when his desire and what felt physically possible clashed--he wanted to watch her, but his eyes closed without his permission; he wanted to hold back from shoving his dick down her throat, but her hand on his ass and the bobbing movements of her mouth tempted him to demand more. Amber knew how to make him lose it, utterly, within moments of sinking her lips down over the shaft of his cock. Her swiftly moving hand, lubricated with her own saliva, drew even more pleasure out of him, and without thinking, Foreman inched his hips forward. Short, jerking thrusts, matching Amber's strokes, pushing deeper into her mouth. He groaned, harsh and low, his shoulders tensing as the sensation mounted. Jesus, she was going to make him come so hard--

There was a knock at the door. Like a bucket of ice water had been thrown across his back, Foreman reared back with a gasp. His cock slipped out of Amber's mouth. Eyes flying open, he stared down at her, lungs heaving for breath, not even able to swallow.

"Shower's yours, Eric," Geoffrey's voice came from behind the door. "And tell Amber to stop skulking and hurry it up, Mom's looking for her."

Foreman hauled his voice under control, clearing his throat. "You go ahead," he said, trying to calm his heartbeat down so that it wouldn't show in his words. "I'll be just--ah, another few minutes."

There was a considering pause, and then Geoffrey said, "To the victors go the spoils," before his footsteps retreated down the hall.