Chapter 3: Tongues Collide
Their tongues met, slick and sliding over each other, an accidental bridge of wet heat. Tobi’s eyes snapped open, meeting Rona’s wide, shocked gaze over the curve of Lara’s thigh. The taste was of her, and of each other, an overwhelming fusion. Rona didn’t pull away. Instead, she pushed forward, her mouth sealing over his in a fierce, deliberate kiss.
Lara’s moan vibrated through them both, her hips bucking against their shared faces. The kiss was messy, salty, a collision of breath and shared purpose. When they finally broke apart, gasping, a string of saliva connected their lips in the blue TV light.
Rona wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her chest heaving. “Jesus,” she breathed, the word more wonder than curse.
Tobi could only stare, his own breath ragged. Lara’s hands were still clenched in their hair, holding them close. She was watching them, her eyes dark pools in the shadows. “Don’t stop,” she commanded, her voice raw.
Rona looked at Tobi, a wild, unreadable challenge in her eyes. Then she dove back down, but this time her tongue sought his as much as it sought Lara. They kissed again, clumsily, over Lara’s trembling skin, their moans lost in the wet sounds of their worship.
Lara cried out, her back arching sharply off the couch. “Enough,” she gasped, tugging their hair to pull them up. “I want you. Both. Now.”
They scrambled back, breathing hard. Lara rose onto her elbows, her gaze sweeping over their naked, waiting forms. She pointed a trembling finger at the floor between the couch and the coffee table. “There.”
Rona sank down first, sitting with her back against the couch, her legs spread. Tobi understood. He knelt between her thighs, his back to her, facing Lara. Rona’s arms came around his waist, her breasts pressing against his back.
Lara swung her legs off the couch and stood over them, a vision of powerful, flushed need. She guided Tobi into her with one hand, a slow, gasping descent. Then, she reached back, her fingers finding Rona’s wrist and pulling her hand forward, guiding her brother’s sister’s touch to where they were joined.
Rona’s breath hitched against Tobi’s spine. Her fingers, slick and clever, rubbed slow circles over Lara’s clit as Tobi began to move. Lara threw her head back, her own hands braced on Tobi’s shoulders, her cries filling the static-humming room. It was a circuit of touch, a closed loop of desperate, shared pleasure. Rona whispered something against Tobi’s skin, lost in the chaos, her other hand gripping his hip tight enough to bruise.