22-08-2026, 05:33 AM
Chapter 133: Emilia's Clit
The knock came soft. Three taps.
Selvam crossed the small room without hurrying and opened the door.
Emilia stood there, barefoot on the cold floorboards, sleep shirt loose enough that he understood immediately she’d come to say something she couldn’t say dressed properly.
“I’ve never seen a cock like that in my life,” she said. Abrupt. Voice low, steady in a way that surprised him. “I will regret it forever if I don’t ask.”
“No.”
Flat. Final. No cruelty in it. Just fact. He watched her face take the word and fail to hold it together.
Emilia’s Chin buckled first, then her mouth. She turned before the tears actually fell, walking back down the narrow hall with her arms wrapped around herself.
Vanitha was already sitting up on the bed. Reaching for the robe folded on the chair.
“I’ll go.”
He nodded. She went, robe half-tied. He stood in the doorway a moment longer, listening someone crying without trying to stop.
By the time he made it to the living room, Lukas was already standing in the hallway.
Emilia sat curled on the couch, knees drawn up. Vanitha beside her with one hand resting between her shoulder blades.
Nobody spoke. Rain filled the silence instead, hammering steady on the roof.
Selvam stayed near the stove, arms loose at his sides, and waited.
Lukas lifted his head first. Jaw worked twice before anything came out.
“I have never known how to please a woman.” Said it to the floor, then forced his eyes up to Selvam’s face. “Not once. Not in three years with Emilia.” Said it again, quieter, and something in his shoulders gave out with the effort of it.
Selvam didn’t answer right away.
“I want you to show me.”
Selvam looked at him.
“Show you what, exactly?”
Emilia lifted her head from where it had been bowed against her knees.
“The thing you did with your tongue. On her.” Emilia said, her sobs subsiding.
She didn’t look at Vanitha when she said it. Kept her gaze fixed on Selvam like he was the only steady point in the room.
“I want him to learn that. I want to feel that. Just once.”
Emilia turned her head then, finally, toward Vanitha, bracing for the answer before she’d even asked the question.
“Can I? Would that be okay? With you?”
Vanitha paused. Then she nodded. Small. Just once.
“Okay,” Emilia breathed, and the word came out on the edge of a sob, relief and fear tangled together so tight Selvam couldn’t tell which one was winning.
She stood up from the couch on unsteady legs. Sleep shirt sliding off one shoulder. Looked at Selvam once more before facing Lukas.
Vanitha felt the couch shift as Emilia rose. Watched the girl’s hands go to the hem of her sleep shirt. Fingers trembling as she pulled it over her head in one motion.
Small breasts, pale in the low firelight. Nipples already tight from the cold or the fear or both. Emilia stepped out of her underwear next, kicking it aside without looking at it, and sat back down on the couch. Knees together for a second before she made herself part them.
Lukas knelt on the floor between the couch cushions. When he looked up at Selvam his eyes had the particular blankness of a man walking into an exam he hadn’t studied for.
“Just... show me where.”
Selvam crouched beside him without answering right away. Vanitha watched him study Emilia’s body the way he studied everything... unhurried, precise, cataloguing before acting. She felt the old flush of jealousy rise in her chest, sharp and unwelcome, and made herself sit with it instead of naming it.
Lukas bent his head. Tongue came out flat, broad. Dragged it up the center of Emilia’s slit in one long stroke that missed everything that mattered.
Emilia’s hips shifted, restless, searching. Nothing in her face changed.
“Higher.” Selvam’s voice was quiet, even, the same register he used walking a junior engineer through a broken line of code. “Not the center. The top. Where the hood is.”
Lukas adjusted. Tongue found the right general area and then slid past it. Stroke too wide, too unfocused, covering ground instead of finding a point.
“Slower. You’re not painting a wall.”
Vanitha watched Lukas’s shoulders tense at that, some old wound in him flaring. He didn’t correct. Tried again. Same wide, aimless drag.
“There. You had it. You moved past it.”
Lukas went back. Overcorrected. Found the spot for half a second and lost it again, tongue sliding off to the left. Emilia’s hips lifted, chasing, then settled when nothing came.
Selvam watched three more passes. Each one started right and drifted wrong, like Lukas couldn’t hold a location in his head long enough to stay on it. The boy’s jaw was working against Emilia’s thigh. Frustration building under the effort.
Selvam felt his own patience thin out to nothing.
Selvam reached over and set his hand on Lukas’s shoulder, guiding him back and to the side.
Then Selvam was leaning in himself.
Selvam didn’t decide to. But Selvam’s mouth found her pussy, the small hooded bud already slick. Flicked it twice in quick, tight circles before he understood what his own body had done. Pressed the flat of his tongue against the hood. Held it there a beat. Flicked again... deliberate, precise, the way he would have with...
Emilia’s thighs clamped around his ears. A sound came out of her that had nothing performed in it.
“Oh my… God,” Emilia moaned.
He heard Lukas shift back onto his heels beside him. Heard the boy’s breath catch and hold.
The room had gone silent except for the rain and the small, helpless noise still leaking out of Emilia’s throat.
Selvam pulled back.
Straightened up slowly, on his knees. He is just understood exactly what he had just done and to whom and in front of whom.
Lukas was staring at him, mouth open, no sound coming out of it.
Selvam stood up. He took a step back, one hand raised, palm out... the universal gesture for stop, for forget this, for I am walking away from what my own body just did.
“I apologize.” Voice level, but he heard the strain under it, the effort it took to keep it level. “That was... ” He didn’t finish.
He turned toward the hallway, toward the guest room, toward anywhere that wasn’t this small warm room with the rain hammering the roof and three people staring at him.
“Wait.”
Vanitha’s voice. He stopped.
She hadn’t moved her hand from Emilia’s back, but she was looking at Lukas now, not at him. “Do you want your girlfriend to feel that? Really feel it. Not the idea of it. The actual thing. Do you want Emilia to feel pleasure at least once in her life?”
Lukas’s mouth opened. Closed. He looked at Emilia... at the way her chest was still rising too fast, at the flush that had climbed all the way to her collarbone... and something in his face cracked open. Not anger this time. Something rawer.
“Yes.”
Vanitha turned to Selvam. Eyes steady, but he could see the cost of that steadiness in the tight line of her jaw, the way her fingers had gone still and careful against Emilia’s spine.
“Keep going. Finish what you started.”
He didn’t move for a second. Looked at her, searching her face for the thing underneath the words. Found it... jealousy, banked but burning, and beneath that something harder to name, something that looked almost like permission granted at a cost she hadn’t finished paying yet.
“Vanitha... ”
“I’m asking you to. Not him. Me.”
He knelt back down.
Emilia’s thighs were still trembling, faint tremors that hadn’t fully died out from before. He set his hands on the inside of her knees, spread her open again, and this time he didn’t hesitate at the boundary of what he was doing. Put his mouth on her and found the rhythm his body already knew. Steady pressure. Flat of his tongue giving way to short bursts. Learning her the way he’d learn any problem... patient, methodical, refusing to be rushed by the noise she made.
Vanitha watched from the couch. Kept her hand on Emilia’s back because the girl seemed to need it, some anchor against the tremor working through her. But Vanitha’s eyes were on Selvam’s shoulders. The way they moved. The same economy of motion he brought to everything.
She waited for the jealousy to swallow her whole. It didn’t. It sat there, hot and present, but underneath it something else had opened up... a kind of clinical curiosity she didn’t have a name for, watching him give away a piece of technique like it was nothing, like it belonged to anyone who asked for it properly.
Lukas hadn’t moved from his knees. Watching too, but differently... leaning forward, elbows on his thighs, studying Selvam’s jaw, the angle of his head, the way his tongue found a rhythm and held it without drifting.
Emilia’s breath had gone ragged. Hand found the couch cushion and gripped it, knuckles whitening. The sound she made this time had no restraint in it at all.
“There.” Selvam didn’t lift his head. Voice muffled against her. “That’s what you were missing. The pressure has to stay constant. Not the pattern. The pressure.”
Lukas nodded like he was taking notes for an exam.
Emilia’s whole body went taut. Her free hand found the back of the couch and gripped it beside the cushion, fingers splayed hard against the fabric.
“Oh... ” The word broke apart in her throat. “Oh, God, that’s... I feel it. I actually feel it.”
Selvam kept the pressure steady. Didn’t chase the sound she made, didn’t speed up to meet it. His tongue held its rhythm against the same small point, patient, unhurried, the way he’d hold a note if he were a different kind of man entirely.
Her hips lifted off the cushion. Small, involuntary. Came back down. Lifted again.
Vanitha felt the tremor travel up through her palm where it rested against Emilia’s spine. The girl’s whole back had gone rigid, muscles standing out along either side of her spine like cords pulled tight.
“Don’t stop,” Emilia said, voice cracking down the middle. “Please don’t stop, please... ”
He didn’t. Vanitha watched his shoulders, the same economical roll of muscle, no wasted motion anywhere in him. Lukas had gone very still on his knees, watching with the kind of attention he’d never given anything in his life... not a textbook, not a job interview, nothing.
Emilia’s thighs started to shake in earnest now, a fine tremor that ran from her knees up into her hips. Her breath had gone to short, broken pulls, no rhythm to it at all. The hand on the cushion twisted the fabric hard enough that Vanitha heard the seam protest.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” Emilia gasped. “I don’t know what this is... ”
“Let it happen,” Vanitha said. Quiet. She didn’t recognize her own voice saying it. “Just let it happen, dear.”
Emilia’s head fell back against the couch cushion. Mouth open. Eyes screwed shut. The sound that came out of her wasn’t decorative, wasn’t shaped for anyone listening... it just tore loose, raw and startled, like she hadn’t known her own body could make it.
Her hips lifted clean off the cushion.
Selvam felt her go rigid under his hands... thighs locking around his skull, heel digging into his shoulder blade... and he didn’t ease off the pressure. He kept his tongue exactly where it had been, exactly the same rhythm, and felt the first pulse of her hit his mouth like something breaking open.
She flooded against his tongue. Wet heat, sudden, more than he expected, and he didn’t pull back from it. He stayed there while her whole body shook apart around him, her thighs clamping so hard his jaw ached with the pressure, and he rode it out the way he’d ride out anything... patient, absorbing, refusing to let go until she was finished.
Emilia’s cry filled the small room, bounced off the low ceiling, buried itself under the sound of the rain.
“Oh God... oh God, oh God... ” Her hips jerked twice more, small aftershocks, and her hand let go of the couch cushion only to grab a fistful of his hair instead, not guiding, just holding on. “I’m... something’s happening, I don’t... ”
He finally lifted his head. Her wetness was smeared across his chin, his upper lip, the underside of his jaw. He didn’t wipe it away.
Emilia’s chest heaved. Her eyes were open now, wide, glassy, fixed on the ceiling like she expected it to explain something to her.
“That was... ” Her voice cracked. She pressed both hands flat over her face, then dragged them down slow, like she needed a second to remember how her own skin worked. “That was not my fingers. That was not anything I have ever done to myself.”
Vanitha’s hand was still between her shoulder blades. She hadn’t moved it through any of it.
“You came,” Vanitha said. Quiet. Not a question.
“I came.” Emilia repeated it like she was testing whether the words would hold. She turned her head, found Lukas still kneeling on the floor, staring at her like he’d never seen her before in three years. “Lukas. I came. From his mouth. Only his mouth.”
Lukas’s jaw worked. He looked at Selvam... at the wet shine still on his face... then back at Emilia.
“You’ve never... with me, you’ve never... ”
“No.” Flat. Not crude, but an honest response.
“I only cum with my own hands.”
Vanitha felt her own thighs press together. Old ache resurfacing under the newer soreness. Hated herself a little for it. Let herself feel it anyway.
After Emilia came back to her senses Vanitha smiled at her and wanted to give her more.
“Emilia.” Her voice came out quieter than she meant it to. “What else did you see? Out there. Tell me.”
Emilia’s eyes were half-closed, chest heaving, but she managed to turn her head. Managed to look at Vanitha instead of at the ceiling.
“Your... ” She stopped. Swallowed. Tried again
“The way you looked at his cock. Before. When you were on your knees for him.” Voice cracked around the words, half from what Selvam was doing, half from what she was still feeling. “He kept saying he wanted to be inside your mouth. That’s what he told Lukas, right before... ” Her hips jerked under Selvam’s mouth and the sentence broke apart.
Vanitha’s hand stilled against Emilia’s back. She looked at Selvam’s head bowed between the girl’s thighs. At the steady work of his shoulders. Made herself keep her voice even.
“And how did you like watching me suck it?”
Emilia’s eyes came open all the way. For a second she just breathed, chest working, like the question had landed somewhere lower than her ears.
She looked at Lukas and looked back and Vanitha.
“I liked it.” Small. Honest in the way only kirsch and exhaustion could make a person honest. “I liked watching you like it. I’ve never seen a woman look like that. Like she wanted to be doing it.”
Vanitha felt the words settle somewhere under her ribs, warm and complicated. Glanced at Lukas... still kneeling, still watching Selvam’s technique like a man trying to memorize a formula before the chalkboard got wiped clean... then back at Emilia’s flushed, open face.
“Would you like to? Suck his cock?” Selvam was still finishing what he started on Emilia’s pussy drenched with her cum.”
The knock came soft. Three taps.
Selvam crossed the small room without hurrying and opened the door.
Emilia stood there, barefoot on the cold floorboards, sleep shirt loose enough that he understood immediately she’d come to say something she couldn’t say dressed properly.
“I’ve never seen a cock like that in my life,” she said. Abrupt. Voice low, steady in a way that surprised him. “I will regret it forever if I don’t ask.”
“No.”
Flat. Final. No cruelty in it. Just fact. He watched her face take the word and fail to hold it together.
Emilia’s Chin buckled first, then her mouth. She turned before the tears actually fell, walking back down the narrow hall with her arms wrapped around herself.
Vanitha was already sitting up on the bed. Reaching for the robe folded on the chair.
“I’ll go.”
He nodded. She went, robe half-tied. He stood in the doorway a moment longer, listening someone crying without trying to stop.
By the time he made it to the living room, Lukas was already standing in the hallway.
Emilia sat curled on the couch, knees drawn up. Vanitha beside her with one hand resting between her shoulder blades.
Nobody spoke. Rain filled the silence instead, hammering steady on the roof.
Selvam stayed near the stove, arms loose at his sides, and waited.
Lukas lifted his head first. Jaw worked twice before anything came out.
“I have never known how to please a woman.” Said it to the floor, then forced his eyes up to Selvam’s face. “Not once. Not in three years with Emilia.” Said it again, quieter, and something in his shoulders gave out with the effort of it.
Selvam didn’t answer right away.
“I want you to show me.”
Selvam looked at him.
“Show you what, exactly?”
Emilia lifted her head from where it had been bowed against her knees.
“The thing you did with your tongue. On her.” Emilia said, her sobs subsiding.
She didn’t look at Vanitha when she said it. Kept her gaze fixed on Selvam like he was the only steady point in the room.
“I want him to learn that. I want to feel that. Just once.”
Emilia turned her head then, finally, toward Vanitha, bracing for the answer before she’d even asked the question.
“Can I? Would that be okay? With you?”
Vanitha paused. Then she nodded. Small. Just once.
“Okay,” Emilia breathed, and the word came out on the edge of a sob, relief and fear tangled together so tight Selvam couldn’t tell which one was winning.
She stood up from the couch on unsteady legs. Sleep shirt sliding off one shoulder. Looked at Selvam once more before facing Lukas.
Vanitha felt the couch shift as Emilia rose. Watched the girl’s hands go to the hem of her sleep shirt. Fingers trembling as she pulled it over her head in one motion.
Small breasts, pale in the low firelight. Nipples already tight from the cold or the fear or both. Emilia stepped out of her underwear next, kicking it aside without looking at it, and sat back down on the couch. Knees together for a second before she made herself part them.
Lukas knelt on the floor between the couch cushions. When he looked up at Selvam his eyes had the particular blankness of a man walking into an exam he hadn’t studied for.
“Just... show me where.”
Selvam crouched beside him without answering right away. Vanitha watched him study Emilia’s body the way he studied everything... unhurried, precise, cataloguing before acting. She felt the old flush of jealousy rise in her chest, sharp and unwelcome, and made herself sit with it instead of naming it.
Lukas bent his head. Tongue came out flat, broad. Dragged it up the center of Emilia’s slit in one long stroke that missed everything that mattered.
Emilia’s hips shifted, restless, searching. Nothing in her face changed.
“Higher.” Selvam’s voice was quiet, even, the same register he used walking a junior engineer through a broken line of code. “Not the center. The top. Where the hood is.”
Lukas adjusted. Tongue found the right general area and then slid past it. Stroke too wide, too unfocused, covering ground instead of finding a point.
“Slower. You’re not painting a wall.”
Vanitha watched Lukas’s shoulders tense at that, some old wound in him flaring. He didn’t correct. Tried again. Same wide, aimless drag.
“There. You had it. You moved past it.”
Lukas went back. Overcorrected. Found the spot for half a second and lost it again, tongue sliding off to the left. Emilia’s hips lifted, chasing, then settled when nothing came.
Selvam watched three more passes. Each one started right and drifted wrong, like Lukas couldn’t hold a location in his head long enough to stay on it. The boy’s jaw was working against Emilia’s thigh. Frustration building under the effort.
Selvam felt his own patience thin out to nothing.
Selvam reached over and set his hand on Lukas’s shoulder, guiding him back and to the side.
Then Selvam was leaning in himself.
Selvam didn’t decide to. But Selvam’s mouth found her pussy, the small hooded bud already slick. Flicked it twice in quick, tight circles before he understood what his own body had done. Pressed the flat of his tongue against the hood. Held it there a beat. Flicked again... deliberate, precise, the way he would have with...
Emilia’s thighs clamped around his ears. A sound came out of her that had nothing performed in it.
“Oh my… God,” Emilia moaned.
He heard Lukas shift back onto his heels beside him. Heard the boy’s breath catch and hold.
The room had gone silent except for the rain and the small, helpless noise still leaking out of Emilia’s throat.
Selvam pulled back.
Straightened up slowly, on his knees. He is just understood exactly what he had just done and to whom and in front of whom.
Lukas was staring at him, mouth open, no sound coming out of it.
Selvam stood up. He took a step back, one hand raised, palm out... the universal gesture for stop, for forget this, for I am walking away from what my own body just did.
“I apologize.” Voice level, but he heard the strain under it, the effort it took to keep it level. “That was... ” He didn’t finish.
He turned toward the hallway, toward the guest room, toward anywhere that wasn’t this small warm room with the rain hammering the roof and three people staring at him.
“Wait.”
Vanitha’s voice. He stopped.
She hadn’t moved her hand from Emilia’s back, but she was looking at Lukas now, not at him. “Do you want your girlfriend to feel that? Really feel it. Not the idea of it. The actual thing. Do you want Emilia to feel pleasure at least once in her life?”
Lukas’s mouth opened. Closed. He looked at Emilia... at the way her chest was still rising too fast, at the flush that had climbed all the way to her collarbone... and something in his face cracked open. Not anger this time. Something rawer.
“Yes.”
Vanitha turned to Selvam. Eyes steady, but he could see the cost of that steadiness in the tight line of her jaw, the way her fingers had gone still and careful against Emilia’s spine.
“Keep going. Finish what you started.”
He didn’t move for a second. Looked at her, searching her face for the thing underneath the words. Found it... jealousy, banked but burning, and beneath that something harder to name, something that looked almost like permission granted at a cost she hadn’t finished paying yet.
“Vanitha... ”
“I’m asking you to. Not him. Me.”
He knelt back down.
Emilia’s thighs were still trembling, faint tremors that hadn’t fully died out from before. He set his hands on the inside of her knees, spread her open again, and this time he didn’t hesitate at the boundary of what he was doing. Put his mouth on her and found the rhythm his body already knew. Steady pressure. Flat of his tongue giving way to short bursts. Learning her the way he’d learn any problem... patient, methodical, refusing to be rushed by the noise she made.
Vanitha watched from the couch. Kept her hand on Emilia’s back because the girl seemed to need it, some anchor against the tremor working through her. But Vanitha’s eyes were on Selvam’s shoulders. The way they moved. The same economy of motion he brought to everything.
She waited for the jealousy to swallow her whole. It didn’t. It sat there, hot and present, but underneath it something else had opened up... a kind of clinical curiosity she didn’t have a name for, watching him give away a piece of technique like it was nothing, like it belonged to anyone who asked for it properly.
Lukas hadn’t moved from his knees. Watching too, but differently... leaning forward, elbows on his thighs, studying Selvam’s jaw, the angle of his head, the way his tongue found a rhythm and held it without drifting.
Emilia’s breath had gone ragged. Hand found the couch cushion and gripped it, knuckles whitening. The sound she made this time had no restraint in it at all.
“There.” Selvam didn’t lift his head. Voice muffled against her. “That’s what you were missing. The pressure has to stay constant. Not the pattern. The pressure.”
Lukas nodded like he was taking notes for an exam.
Emilia’s whole body went taut. Her free hand found the back of the couch and gripped it beside the cushion, fingers splayed hard against the fabric.
“Oh... ” The word broke apart in her throat. “Oh, God, that’s... I feel it. I actually feel it.”
Selvam kept the pressure steady. Didn’t chase the sound she made, didn’t speed up to meet it. His tongue held its rhythm against the same small point, patient, unhurried, the way he’d hold a note if he were a different kind of man entirely.
Her hips lifted off the cushion. Small, involuntary. Came back down. Lifted again.
Vanitha felt the tremor travel up through her palm where it rested against Emilia’s spine. The girl’s whole back had gone rigid, muscles standing out along either side of her spine like cords pulled tight.
“Don’t stop,” Emilia said, voice cracking down the middle. “Please don’t stop, please... ”
He didn’t. Vanitha watched his shoulders, the same economical roll of muscle, no wasted motion anywhere in him. Lukas had gone very still on his knees, watching with the kind of attention he’d never given anything in his life... not a textbook, not a job interview, nothing.
Emilia’s thighs started to shake in earnest now, a fine tremor that ran from her knees up into her hips. Her breath had gone to short, broken pulls, no rhythm to it at all. The hand on the cushion twisted the fabric hard enough that Vanitha heard the seam protest.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” Emilia gasped. “I don’t know what this is... ”
“Let it happen,” Vanitha said. Quiet. She didn’t recognize her own voice saying it. “Just let it happen, dear.”
Emilia’s head fell back against the couch cushion. Mouth open. Eyes screwed shut. The sound that came out of her wasn’t decorative, wasn’t shaped for anyone listening... it just tore loose, raw and startled, like she hadn’t known her own body could make it.
Her hips lifted clean off the cushion.
Selvam felt her go rigid under his hands... thighs locking around his skull, heel digging into his shoulder blade... and he didn’t ease off the pressure. He kept his tongue exactly where it had been, exactly the same rhythm, and felt the first pulse of her hit his mouth like something breaking open.
She flooded against his tongue. Wet heat, sudden, more than he expected, and he didn’t pull back from it. He stayed there while her whole body shook apart around him, her thighs clamping so hard his jaw ached with the pressure, and he rode it out the way he’d ride out anything... patient, absorbing, refusing to let go until she was finished.
Emilia’s cry filled the small room, bounced off the low ceiling, buried itself under the sound of the rain.
“Oh God... oh God, oh God... ” Her hips jerked twice more, small aftershocks, and her hand let go of the couch cushion only to grab a fistful of his hair instead, not guiding, just holding on. “I’m... something’s happening, I don’t... ”
He finally lifted his head. Her wetness was smeared across his chin, his upper lip, the underside of his jaw. He didn’t wipe it away.
Emilia’s chest heaved. Her eyes were open now, wide, glassy, fixed on the ceiling like she expected it to explain something to her.
“That was... ” Her voice cracked. She pressed both hands flat over her face, then dragged them down slow, like she needed a second to remember how her own skin worked. “That was not my fingers. That was not anything I have ever done to myself.”
Vanitha’s hand was still between her shoulder blades. She hadn’t moved it through any of it.
“You came,” Vanitha said. Quiet. Not a question.
“I came.” Emilia repeated it like she was testing whether the words would hold. She turned her head, found Lukas still kneeling on the floor, staring at her like he’d never seen her before in three years. “Lukas. I came. From his mouth. Only his mouth.”
Lukas’s jaw worked. He looked at Selvam... at the wet shine still on his face... then back at Emilia.
“You’ve never... with me, you’ve never... ”
“No.” Flat. Not crude, but an honest response.
“I only cum with my own hands.”
Vanitha felt her own thighs press together. Old ache resurfacing under the newer soreness. Hated herself a little for it. Let herself feel it anyway.
After Emilia came back to her senses Vanitha smiled at her and wanted to give her more.
“Emilia.” Her voice came out quieter than she meant it to. “What else did you see? Out there. Tell me.”
Emilia’s eyes were half-closed, chest heaving, but she managed to turn her head. Managed to look at Vanitha instead of at the ceiling.
“Your... ” She stopped. Swallowed. Tried again
“The way you looked at his cock. Before. When you were on your knees for him.” Voice cracked around the words, half from what Selvam was doing, half from what she was still feeling. “He kept saying he wanted to be inside your mouth. That’s what he told Lukas, right before... ” Her hips jerked under Selvam’s mouth and the sentence broke apart.
Vanitha’s hand stilled against Emilia’s back. She looked at Selvam’s head bowed between the girl’s thighs. At the steady work of his shoulders. Made herself keep her voice even.
“And how did you like watching me suck it?”
Emilia’s eyes came open all the way. For a second she just breathed, chest working, like the question had landed somewhere lower than her ears.
She looked at Lukas and looked back and Vanitha.
“I liked it.” Small. Honest in the way only kirsch and exhaustion could make a person honest. “I liked watching you like it. I’ve never seen a woman look like that. Like she wanted to be doing it.”
Vanitha felt the words settle somewhere under her ribs, warm and complicated. Glanced at Lukas... still kneeling, still watching Selvam’s technique like a man trying to memorize a formula before the chalkboard got wiped clean... then back at Emilia’s flushed, open face.
“Would you like to? Suck his cock?” Selvam was still finishing what he started on Emilia’s pussy drenched with her cum.”
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