Jolthar watched, his own hand stroking his hard length, his expression one of intense, loving focus. He saw the moment the last vestiges of their conflict melted away, replaced by a shared, burgeoning desire.
"Beautiful," he breathed, the word filled with reverence.
"To the bed. Cleora, on your back.
Raayani, straddling her face. I want to watch you lose yourselves in each other."
They moved to the vast, silk-sheeted bed, a concession to Prince Milan's decadent tastes.
Cleora lay back, her hair fanning out, her eyes dark with a mix of submission and fierce arousal. She opened her legs, offering the slick, pink folds of her sex to the lamplight. Raayani climbed over her, her movements graceful despite the unfamiliarity of the position. She lowered herself, her knees framing Cleora's head, until her dripping wetness was just inches from the other woman's mouth.
"Taste her, Cleora," Jolthar instructed softly, kneeling at the foot of the bed between Cleora's spread thighs.
