"Ridiculous?" Serelith offered, a faint, breathless giggle escaping her lips. "Yes, I quite agree."
Mikhailis leaned in, his teeth grazing her earlobe, his voice a hushed, hungry growl. "You're so… so tight…"
"Then take more… more… please…" Serelith whispered, her voice a trembling plea hidden beneath her calm, chatty tone. "But keep talking… please… keep her distracted…"
"Oh, and have you heard the rumors about Sir Hawke's new squire?" Serelith's voice remained light, her tone almost gossipy even as her inner walls clenched, fluttered, tightening around Mikhailis's length. Her cheeks burned with a deep, rosy blush, her breath a desperate, trembling gasp. "They say he's already a better swordsman than his master."
"Really?" Cerys raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's not exactly a high bar. Sir Hawke's the sort who thinks a sword's just for posing."
