Behind him.
Her face found his balls — the I-know-what-I'm-doing-here press of her lips against them, the warm, comprehensive, thorough attention of a woman who has been watching for ten minutes and has decided to make up for it, sucking and licking with hungry, wet sounds.
Her tongue.
Finding the base of his shaft where Eliantra's throat was still working, tracing the stretched outline of his cock bulging through the older woman's neck.
He exhaled.
Long. Slow. The satisfied exhale of a man who has two women and is not experiencing any complaints about this.
He pulled out of Eliantra's throat.
The full, wet, immediate, dramatic withdrawal — Eliantra's gasp coming instantly, the deep, ragged, finally-air gasp of a woman who has been conducting her respiratory needs through very limited means and is now settling accounts, strings of thick saliva connecting her lips to his glistening cock.
She sagged.
Her hands caught the floor.
Her chin dripped.
