He didn't give them a breath.
The energy drink was still cold on their skin — still fizzing in the valley between their pressed chests, still running in thin rivulets down their stomachs — when he moved.
No warning.
He dropped the empty can off the edge of the bed. It hit the lab floor with a hollow metallic clatter that neither woman registered because his hands were already moving — gripping both their legs simultaneously, one hand wrapped around Nano's slim, trembling ankle and one around Sugar's longer, model-curved calf.
He scissored them.
Both.
Their legs crossing at mid-thigh, one over the other, both women's hips angled outward and upward, their two pussies side by side with barely a hand's width of separation between them — Nano's small, puffy, still-swollen virgin slit on the left, still pink and weeping from its first breaking, and Sugar's sleek, practiced entrance on the right, already glistening with the accumulated evidence of hours.
He looked at both of them.
