His tongue played with hers.
The muscle. The human muscle, small but skilled, found her tongue. The knight's tongue. The muscle that had shouted orders. He played. He traced. He circled. He sucked. Her tongue, the warrior's tongue, was in his mouth. Being played with. Being claimed.
His hand parted her ass.
The fingers. On the cotton. On the skin. He pulled. The cheeks separated. The crack opened. The panty, the thin white cotton, was the only barrier. The fabric was wet. The outline of her anus, the puckered ring, was visible through the soaked cotton. The outline of her pussy, the lips, the slit, was visible. He pulled. The fabric shifted. The cotton pulled to the side. The skin, the bare skin, the white skin of her crack, was exposed.
She gasped.
The kiss broke. His mouth left hers. The strand of saliva connected them. The clear, thick strand. It stretched. Broke. Fell. On her chin. On her chest.
Two women arrived.
