A romantic night

Jane reads him the moment he steps through the door, shoulders heavy, eyes glassy from the long day. She slides a cold drink into his hand, then turns so he can watch her peel away the day and slip into sheer black lace that barely skims her hips. Her pale-blonde hair catches the lamplight as she guides him to the couch and straddles his lap, her hands already busy—undoing his belt, freeing him, stroking until he hardens in her grip. She leans in, breasts brushing his chest, lips brushing his ear. “Let me,” she whispers, then sinks between his knees and takes him in, slow, wet, deliberate. The redhead who’s been waiting by the bedroom door steps out, peels her own lingerie away, and joins her; together the two mouths work him, tongues meeting around his cock, until he’s throbbing and breathless. Jane stands, pulls the redhead down with her, and spreads open on the sheets, offering herself. He sinks into her first, hips rolling deep, then switches, filling the redhead too, until he spills inside Jane, pushing every last pulse into her heat.