Eli's fingers traced idle circles on Atlas's chest for only a short while before they grew bolder again. She propped herself up on one elbow, looked down at him, then at Clara, and gave a short, rough laugh.
"A few more minutes isn't going to be enough," she said. Her voice was still low, but the practical edge had returned with a distinctly filthy undertone. "I can still feel him leaking out of me. And Clara's already wet again—I can smell it."
Clara's cheeks flushed deeper, but she did not deny it. Her hand, still resting on Atlas's stomach, slid lower until her fingers brushed the base of his cock, sticky and half-hard again from the residual heat of the last round.
"She's not wrong," Clara murmured. Her voice was quieter than Eli's, but the words were clear. "I want more."
Atlas's cock twitched under her touch. Eli noticed and grinned, sharp and hungry.
"Then get on your back," she told Clara. "I want to watch him fuck you while I sit on your face."
