His elbow hooked backward, caught her hip, crushed her flush against his back.
"'Don't stop,'" he said.
"'...Fine,'" she said, very quietly, and her hand kept its grip and her hips started moving against his ass in small, searching circles.
Seris arrived. Her white hair completely loose now, ice-blue eyes carrying something she'd never intended to bring into this room. She pressed against his left side, her mouth finding his shoulder—her lips cold, then warming immediately—her elegant hands spreading across his chest, fingers tracing the ridges of his abs.
Her hand slid down.
Found Yu Xiang's.
Both of them at the base of his cock, their fingers overlapping, both feeling every thrust transmit through their palms. Their eyes met briefly.
Seris looked away first.
Neither of them removed their hand.
