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Sixty-Eight
BETHIAH
There’s no sight quite like Dora straddling Jamef’s head.
She faces me, her hands clenched in mine as she settles her weight over him. His big hands come up to rub her thighs and buttocks, and as I watch, he lifts his chin and gives her a lick before she can sit down on him.
“Greedy,” I murmur, but I like the sight of it.
Dora looks uncertain for the first time, though. She shifts, adjusting her weight on her knees. “Am I too heavy? I’ve never done this. What if I suffocate you?”
“Then he would die happy,” I joke. “And you’re not too heavy.”
Jamef groans and gives her another lick, which makes her jerk in my arms. “Did I mention my lungs are bionic? And that I can hold my breath for eighteen minutes?”
She whimpers, and this time when he tugs her down against his face, she settles on him. Dora clings to me, her eyes fluttering closed as a moan escapes her, and then the wet, obscene sounds of Jamef lapping at her cunt fill the room. Just hearing that makes me incredibly aroused, and I clench in response.
He jerks his hips, driving up into me, and then I’m gasping, too.
“Oh god,” Dora breathes. She rocks against his face, and her fingers dig into my arms. “I knew this would be a good idea, but I didn’t know this would be a great idea. I’m a goddamn genius.” Her mouth spasms. “Oh fuck. Best idea ever. Oh fuck.”
“You look beautiful,” I tell her, loving that I can watch her face as he eats her out. “Is he licking your clit? Teasing it with his tongue?”
She cries out and I catch a glimpse of his tongue snaking through her folds and it tells me that yes, he is indeed teasing the kef out of her. He drives up into me again in a short movement, making me gasp once more and reminding me that I’m supposed to be partaking in the fun, too.
Right. With a subtle rocking motion, I test riding him. It’s hard to get my balance to drive down on him with Dora clinging to my arms and moaning as if she’s dying, but I don’t want to interrupt her. She’s having too good a time. I twine my tail with Jamef’s and keep my movements slow, languid. Unhurried. I’m just enjoying the sensation of being filled, of the tease of his spur moving through my folds. It feels good. Nice. Full.
He drives up inside me the moment I sink down again, and it’s no longer just nice. Hot, scorching intensity races through me, and then Dora isn’t the only one moaning. I clutch her arms as tightly as she clings to mine, and drive down onto Jamef’s cock again. Something has subtly shifted in our angles, and now when I rock down onto him, he’s hitting the most sensitive spot deep inside me, and it feels incredible.
In my arms, Dora cries out, her hips frantically moving against Jamef’s face. The wet, obscene sounds continue, but they only heighten my pleasure. Now, I’m not entirely certain that she’s the only one making sloppy wet sounds. She’s not the only one gasping and groaning as if she’s dying. Jamef’s tail tightens around mine, and then Dora crashes against me, holding onto me as an orgasm courses through her. I bite my lip, riding him harder and faster, trying to reach my own.
When it comes, it takes me entirely by surprise, and I lose myself in the moment. The air steals from my lungs and pleasure pounds through my senses, cascading over me. I’m dimly aware of Dora sliding to the side, only for Jamef to shift our positions. Then I’m on my back and he’s over me, pounding deep into me, his red eye searing into my mind as he drives me up into another climax. I cry out, only to have my cry smothered by a hot kiss from him that tastes like Dora, and I cling to my mate as he ruts into me, seeking his own release.
When he comes inside me, his tail twitching feverishly against mine, I dig one ankle into his buttock and pin him in place until he finishes spending. There was no plas-film. I don’t think anyone even paused to consider plas-film, or anything at all, really. I’m glad I got a shot in med-bay earlier that stops my fertility cycle.
Jamef groans and collapses on top of me, sweaty and spent. “Kef.”
I groan, too, because he’s keffing heavy. With a pat on his hip, I point this out. “You’re made of metal, not air. How about you roll onto the side.”
He does, flopping onto his back, his hand resting on his stomach. “Sorry.”
Jamef sounds utterly drained, which amuses me. I mean, I am, too, but I’ve never heard him sound quite so dazed, and I have to bite back a smirk. Dora slithers in between us, wedging herself against my hip and Jamef’s side, and she slides her head onto my breasts. “That was amazing.”
