Steamy Encounters
Julius stepped back, his hands raised, a smirk on his face.
Mia pressed Ida against the table's edge. Her mouth was less gentle than Amelie's; biting, demanding, her teeth scraping Ida's throat as her hand slid between Ida's legs, two fingers pushing deep. “You want to be family?” Mia whispered against her skin. “Then take all of us.”
Ida felt Nele's eyes on her from the head of the table. The matriarch was still in her chair, whiskey in hand, watching with the satisfaction of a woman who'd seen this ritual play out a hundred times. Nele raised her glass in a slow toast.
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