There'd been no jealousy, no catty standoffs—just a long, appraising look from both women when June finally stepped inside earlier that day.
Bella had tilted her head, smirked, and said, "Welcome to the club, commander. Hope you like being sore." Jenny had simply pulled June into a slow, intimate hug—claiming, testing—then murmured against her lips, "He trained you good. I can tell."
Now, hours later, the four of them were a tangle of sweat-slick skin and desperate need on the oversized bed.
Ross lay in the center like a king on his throne—cock still rock-hard, fifteen thick inches glistening from their combined juices.
He hadn't come yet tonight. He was saving it. Teasing them. Making them earn it.
Bella straddled his face first—thighs clamped around his head, grinding her soaked pussy against his tongue while he lapped at her clit with slow, deliberate strokes.
