Nathan's eyes slid from Elin's twitching, cum-glazed body to Freja, and the hunger in them struck her like a hand between the thighs. Her breath broke into uneven little gasps, her chest rising and falling too fast for her to control, her pupils dark and wide, her slicked thighs quivering as if they were trying to close and open at the same time. His fingers were still inside her, two thick digits sunk deep, warm, coated in the nectar she kept spilling for him. She clenched around them again, involuntarily, desperately, precum of arousal dripping down her entrance in trembling strings.

Nathan slowly withdrew those fingers, dragging along her soaked inner walls in a way that made her hips jerk forward with a shaky, "nnnh—ahh—."

Then he lifted his hand to his mouth, eyes locked to hers the entire time, and closed his lips over those slick fingers, sucking them clean with an obscene, slow slurp.

Freja's body seized with a thin, high spill of pleasure, a sudden warm spurt dribbling from her pussy as she whimpered, "Haahh—!" Her thighs shook harder, toes curling.

Nathan smiled lazily. "Look at the mess you've made down here, Freja."

He slid off the bed, stripping his pants down in a single practiced motion, his cock springing free and standing heavy against his lower abdomen. He circled around the bed with the silent confidence of someone who knew exactly what both women wanted and exactly how far they would go to get it.

Freja forced herself to look down, because his voice left no room to pretend she wasn't aware of it. Below her, between her legs, the mattress was drenched—an irregular blooming stain spreading under her, wet and glistening and clearly hers, the evidence of how violently she had come just from his fingers.

Her face warmed, hot blood flooding her cheeks. She snapped her gaze away in shame.

Nathan only chuckled. "Don't worry. Elin made even more of a mess."

Freja's head snapped back toward Elin despite herself.

Elin lay sprawled where he had left her, still caught in the fluttery aftershocks of her last orgasm. Her legs were spread wide, trembling softly. Her pussy was open and pulsing with each after-spasm, exhaling sticky white ropes that leaked down the curve of her ass onto the sheets. Nathan's cum mixed with hers, thick and milky, sliding from her swollen entrance in slow, indecent drips. A faint tinge of red flushed the mixture—evidence of Nathan having completely claimed her virginity.

Her face was slack, glazed with pleasure, cheeks burning hot; her chest rose in trembling breaths; her nipples were dark, swollen, reddened from his mouth. Red bite marks dotted her breasts and neck. She looked undone, used, blissed-out, the contrast to the shy, quiet Elin she usually tried so hard to be sharp enough to leave Freja swallowing hard.

Freja turned away again, heat spiraling down her spine—only to find Nathan right before her, his shadow falling over her, his thick cock rising at eye level. She recoiled, face blazing, breath tearing out of her in a startled, "H-haa—!"

Her heart hammered so violently she felt it in her throat.

"Freja," Nathan said, "it needs to be cleaned."

She blinked, stunned, lips parting but unable to form anything coherent. "W… what…?"

Nathan smirked, pointing casually at the thick shaft—slick with a sheen of sweat, the flushed pink head smeared with the white mix of his release and Elin's. The scent of sex clung to it, musky, intoxicating, warm.

"You want my clean cock to stretch your pussy," he said as if discussing something inevitable, "or a filthy one?"

A violent shiver ran straight through Freja. The words went off in her like a spark in dry straw. Her gaze fell again, drawn helplessly to the sight of him: heavy, hard, glistening, the head swollen and needy.

He was right.

She had come here wearing that sheer stola tunic—something she would never dare to wear outside, the one that clung to her skin and showed every contour—because she wanted this. Wanted him. Wanted to be taken like Elin had been taken.

He was leaving for Rome soon. No promise of return. No promise she'd get another chance to slip into his heart, his bed, his hands. Servilia had been blunt: the time was now, not later. Strike the iron while it was hot.

Freja's fingers tightened into the sheets until her knuckles ached. She lifted her eyes again, slowly, painfully aware of how red her face had become, but unable to stop. Her gaze locked onto his cock—huge, thick, throbbing faintly with each beat of his pulse.

It was only the second time she saw it this close.

Last time she had been able to pretend she wasn't really choosing anything—Servilia had teased her, pushed her into that handjob, and Freja had clung to that excuse with both hands like a terrified child.

But this time?

There was no excuse.

No pushing.

No coaxing.

Just her, kneeling before him, her breath hot on her lips, her thighs sticky with her own arousal, her heart thrumming wildly because she wanted it deep down.

She wanted to taste him.

She wanted to feel him.

And once that certainty settled into her bones—warm and dizzying—Freja shifted forward on the bed, gathering her trembling legs beneath her until she knelt directly in front of him.

Nathan stood at the edge of the bed, towering above her, the heat from his body radiating over her face. Her heart pounded so loudly it filled her ears, each pulse crashing through her ribs like a drum that belonged to someone else. But she didn't back away. She leaned closer.

Her gaze swept over his cock again—thick, flushed, smeared with white. Her breath hitched, quick and shallow, the sight alone sending a hot coil low into her stomach.

She was really going to do it.

When she brought her face close, the scent hit her instantly—strong, warm, unmistakably male. Sweat, sex, the humid musk of Elin's spent body mingled with Nathan's own. A strange sweetness threaded through it, and that odd sour tang that had confused her before, but now… the pull of that scent tugged at something instinctive inside her. Her thighs pressed together unconsciously.

She stuck her tongue out, tiny at first, timid, her eyes squeezing shut as if bracing for a blow. Then she leaned in and caught the droplet poised at the tip of his swollen glans.

"Sluuurrp~"

The taste flooded her tongue immediately. Sour. Sweet. Warm.

It startled her, made her lips twitch around the tip of her tongue. Was the sourness Nathan? The sweetness Elin? Or the mix of the two? She couldn't tell. She only knew it was intimate, forbidden, and that she was swallowing it.

She opened her eyes slowly, as if waking from a dream, and leaned in again. This time her tongue dragged across the head, sweeping away the white smear and revealing the raw pink beneath.

"Sluuuurp… mmnh… sluuuurp…"

Nathan groaned above her, a low guttural sound that vibrated through her chest. His hand rose almost automatically, fingers sinking into the soft strands of her very light brown hair. His cock was painfully sensitive from fucking Elin, still tender from the orgasm that had emptied him inside her—so every lap of Freja's tongue shot a jolt of pleasure straight up his spine.

The sound of him groaning because of her made something fierce and fluttering ignite inside Freja.

She looked up at him quickly, breath trembling. He looked… undone. More undone than before. More undone than when she'd stroked him that first time. And that expression—tight jaw, half-lidded eyes, lips parted—was because of her mouth now.

Some shy pride twisted beautifully with her embarrassment, and she lowered herself further, bracing both hands on the edge of the bed, almost on all fours as she leaned in to clean him more deeply.

Her tongue returned to the glans, then circled it, slow, deliberate strokes.

"Sluuurrp… sluuurp… sluuuurp…"

Nathan's breath caught. He tilted his hips forward just slightly, just enough for his tip to brush her lips each time she finished a lick.

Freja refused to stop. She couldn't stop this close. Not when he had asked her to clean him. Not when her shame was swallowed by the heat pooling between her legs. Not when his breathy groans told her she was doing something dangerously right.

She licked around the crown of his cock, tongue curling under it, gathering the last streaks of white.

Her brows furrowed adorably every time the sourness hit, but she pushed through, burying the instinct to flinch and forcing herself to do it thoroughly. She wanted to do it well. She wanted him to see she could.

Nathan's grip tightened in her hair, not harsh, just needy, a grounding hold. His voice broke free on a ragged breath.

"Haa… fuck, Freja…"

The sound of her name falling like that—low, strained, hungry—sent a tremor through her entire body. Her cheeks were unbearably red, glowing with heat, but she kept going.

"Sluuuurpp… sluuuuurp… shliiick… mmnh❤️… sluuuurp…"

Her tongue worked over every remaining dot of white on the head of his cock, slow and methodical at first, then a pace she no longer consciously controlled. She licked until the glans shone bright pink, then deeper, until the skin warmed under her tongue, almost reddening from how thoroughly she had cleaned and teased it.

She had finished some time ago, but she hadn't stopped. Maybe she had lost track. Maybe with her eyes closed she simply kept going. Or maybe she had gotten used to the taste, the heat, the praise in his groans and the fingers tangled in her hair, until stopping didn't occur to her at all.

Eventually Nathan reached down with his free hand and cupped her cheek, guiding her to look up at him.

"Good girl," he murmured, voice thick. "You cleaned it perfectly. Look how pink and clean it is."

Freja opened her eyes fully—and the sight of the swollen pink glans right in front of her face snapped through her like cold water. Her whole body jerked lightly, her breath catching as if she had just awakened from a spell she cast on herself.

She pulled her head back, her face burning fire-red, realization crashing over her in a humiliating, electrifying wave.

She had just done that.

She had just licked him clean.

Shamelessly. Thoroughly. Desperately.

And she couldn't pretend she hadn't enjoyed every second.

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