Chapter 4: Climax
The living room was thick with the scent of sweat and arousal, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken desires. The television still flickered in the background, the muted roar of the crowd now drowned out by the ragged breaths of the three people tangled together on the couch. The cushions were rumpled, the fabric damp with the heat of their bodies, the leather creaking under the shifting weight of their movements.
Clara’s fingers were still tangled in Mark’s hair, her nails dragging lightly over his scalp as she guided his mouth lower, her breath hitching when his tongue flicked against her clit.
The couch cushions groaned under their shifting weight, the leather creaking as David’s hands slid up her thighs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass, pulling her closer to Mark’s face.
"Fuck, you taste so good," Mark groaned against her, his lips vibrating against her swollen flesh. His tongue swirled in slow, deliberate circles, teasing her clit before dipping lower, pressing inside her with a slow, deliberate thrust. Clara’s back arched, her fingers tightening in his hair, her hips rolling against his mouth.
David’s hands were everywhere—his fingers kneading her ass, his thumb pressing against the tight ring of her asshole, making her gasp.