Freya's pussy's juice still lingering on my tongue, and the unmistakable iron-rich scent of Freya's pregnant cunt. My cock pulsed painfully in my pants, the head leaking pre-cum like a broken faucet, soaking through the fabric. I could feel the wet spot growing, the sticky warmth clinging to my skin.
Freya's fingers danced over her phone screen before she sent that damn text. The chime from Suzy's phone was like a starting pistol. The way Suzy's eyes flicked to me after reading it—dark, hungry, her lips parting just slightly—made my balls tighten. Freya's nod was barely perceptible, but it sent a jolt through me. She's setting this up. She's fucking orchestrating this.
Suzy stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor like nails on skin. "Sister Freya, where is the washroom?" Her voice was too breathy, her nipples pressing against the thin fabric of her blouse. I could see the outline of them, hard little points begging for attention.
