Family Strokes
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Her glasses slipped down her nose as she knelt between them, the lens fogging with the heat of her own wanting. The ink on her skin, a dark vine curling from her hip, seemed to tremble with the same anticipation that made her breath catch. She felt the weight of their gazes, one burning with a slow, patient fire, the other sharp and hungry as a blade. The air thickened with the scent of warm skin and the unspoken promise of a shared secret. Her fingers traced the taut line of a thigh, marveling at the pulse leaping beneath, a rhythm that answered her own. A low, possessive sound rumbled from the man behind her, his hand settling on the curve of her back like a claim. She leaned forward, not in haste but in surrender, her lips parting to meet the source of their collective longing. The first taste was salt and silk, a revelation that made her eyes flutter shut, her glasses slipping forgotten to the floor. Above her, one of them groaned, a sound that vibrated through her like a struck chord, binding them all in a single, aching note. When she finally pulled back, breathless and trembling, she saw the mirrored hunger in their eyes, and knew the night had only just begun to burn.
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