Right, after she sunk down, on her little brother's cock.
For a mont, Annabelle didn't move.
She just breathed.
Letting it settle.
Letting both of them feel it — the full, obscene connection, the taboo pulse of being joined again where no one else could ever reach.
Her walls rippled once around him; involuntary, possessive — and a single tear slipped free, tracking down her cheek before she could blink it away.
Yet, she smiled.
Radiant. Soft, and filled with sothing deeper.
Then she began to move.
"My little brother's finally ho… where he belongs."
Her words; soft, filthy, tender- combined with the slow roll of her hips, sent a sharp wave of sensation through him, pulling a rough sound from his throat.
"Augh—"
It didn't last. The sound was imdiately muffled, swallowed by Eva's pussy as she rolled her hips again, pressing herself harder against his mouth.
"No… I was so close…" she murmured, her voice breaking between tones, each word edged with frustration, need, and desperation. "Don't stop now…"
Her hips rolled again, chasing his mouth, chasing the sensation, no longer even pretending to hold back. The wet glide of her cunt over his lips and chin filled the room with soft, filthy sounds; slick, needy, unashad.
Annabelle moved with her.
Her hips rolled again, slow and deep, taking him to the root each ti, her walls tightening as if she was trying to brand him from the inside out. Every downward motion stole her breath, small gasps slipping out, breaking into shaky laughs that lted into sothing wetter, sothing closer to relief than simple pleasure.
The mattress creaked beneath them, no longer occasional, but rhythmic now, answering every rise and fall.
Christian wasn't passive.
Even with one sister riding his cock and the other riding his face, he anchored Eva with bruising grips on her thighs, holding her flush to his mouth. His tongue teased her slit for a heartbeat, long and flat strokes, then flicked her clit in sharp, precise circles, then plunged back inside her soft folds, curling, thrusting, drinking her down like she was the only thing that mattered.
Her sweet nectar coated his tongue, his favorite addiction, thick and hot and unmistakably her after all this ti.
On the other side, Annabelle rode him in cowgirl, thighs flexing, ass slapping softly against his pelvis with every descent. Christian didn't let her do all the work. His hips snapped up to et her — strong, strung-tight thrusts that drove him deeper, forcing her walls to flutter and clench harder around him.
The rhythm was strange, almost impossible: the wet smack of hips eting hips, the lewd squelch of his tongue fucking into Eva, the broken moans and gasps layering over each other like a confession no one else would ever hear.
And that strange rhythm held… until it broke.
Eva's body gave in first.
Her hips stuttered once, then locked. Her thighs clamped around his head, trembling violently, while her fingers clenched in his hair. The first wave crashed through her like a dam giving way.
"Christian… yes… yes…" she gasped, his na fracturing on her tongue — soft, desperate, reverent. He felt her clench around his tongue, felt the shudder that started in her core and rippled outward.
He didn't slow.
If anything, he pushed further, his tongue relentless in its movent. He flicked her clit it tight circles while he sucked gently, then plunged deep again.
That was enough.
"Aaahh—"
The sound tore out of her, high and broken, her release hitting hard as her love juices flooded his tongue in pulsing waves. Her body trembled above him, riding out the aftershocks, still moving weakly, unwilling to let go of the sensation until the very last flicker faded.
Christian didn't hold back either.
He took everything she gave, greedy and unrestrained, drawing in as much as he could, refusing to waste a single drop.
Only when her strength finally gave out did she slide off him, collapsing onto the mattress beside him with a shaky exhale. Her thighs still quivered, her chest rose and fell unevenly, and a dazed, blissed-out smile lingered on her lips.
She left him a ss.
Traces of her slick warmth clung to his skin, sared across his face, dripping faintly from his jaw, gathering at the corners of his mouth.
He licked his lips once. Slow. Deliberate.
Savoring what remained.
And he smiled, lazy, feral. Completely satisfied.
Annabelle saw it.
And sothing in her shifted.
A flicker of sothing sharp, unexpected — yet familiar.
Jealousy.
Was it because Eva ca first? Because of that breathtaking, unguarded smile her little brother wore after drinking soone else down? Or because the sight of him so sated, so ho, made the ache inside her twist harder?
She didn't know. But it didn't matter.
She leaned down and kissed him.
Without hesitation. Without care for the taste still lingering on him.
Christian responded imdiately, his tongue eting hers, still warm, still carrying the remnants of Eva, now moving against Annabelle's in a slow, intimate exchange that blurred the line between hunger and familiarity.
While the obscenity of the situation, seed to make her clench harder around the cock still buried inside her. One hand slid up to cup her breast, fingers sinking into soft flesh, thumb brushing over the stiff peak in lazy circles. The other moved to her face, brushing damp strands of her now-long hair back from her cheeks, tucking them behind her ear with a tenderness that felt almost too big for the mont.
Neither of them closed their eyes.
They stayed locked on each other, as if afraid that even for a second, the other might disappear.
The rhythm of their bodies slowed too, hips rolling in languid, deep grinds instead of frantic thrusts.
For a mont, it wasn't about urgency.
Just presence.
Just the feeling of being connected again — completely, intimately, in a way no one else could ever reach, seed to soothe their raw lust.
But it didn't last.
Annabelle pulled back slightly, breath uneven, her voice slipping out between soft gasps—
"I fingered myself every night pretending it was your cock…" Her voice cracked, raw and honest. "…it never felt like this."
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