Calla moved first. She rose from her seat with the kind of unhurried grace that turned heads across the room, then crossed behind Amiyah. The booth was tight, intimate, the lamplight low enough to keep us cloaked. Calla leaned down, her hand brushing Amiyah’s shoulder as she bent close enough to breathe against her ear.
“You didn’t think you’d get away from us that easily, didyou?” she murmured. Her voice was low, smooth, a private melody meant only for us.
Amiyah shivered, her lashes fluttering as she glanced sideways at me. That’s all the invitation I needed.
I slid out of my seat and slipped back in beside her, close enough that our thighs touched. The warmth of her body seeped into me instantly, dizzying.
Calla’s hand rested lightly on Amiyah’s shoulder, her fingers tracing lazy circles just above the neckline of her dress. “So beautiful,” she whispered, “and you don’t even realize what you do to us.”
Amiyah’s lips parted, but no words came out.
I leaned in, my mouth near her ear, my voice gravelly. “Amiyah… can I touch you?”
Her breath hitched. Her eyes flicked up, caught between me and Calla—hesitant, trembling, but unmistakably hungry. “Yes,” she whispered.
The single word lit me on fire. My hand slid under the table, fingers brushing along the smooth skin of her knee, then higher, up the lush expanse of her thigh. Her body tensed, then melted into the touch, her breath coming quicker.
“God,” I muttered, unable to stop myself, “you feel even better than I imagined, so soft, warm, responsive.”
Her body jerked as her thighs parted just enough to let me in further, and I traced upward, my fingers pressing against the hem of her dress, teasing the edge.
Calla leaned closer, her lips almost brushing Amiyah’s ear. “That’s it… Let him touch you. Feel what it’s like to be wanted by both of us.”
Amiyah let out a soft, shaky laugh, her hand gripping the edge of the table like she needed something to hold onto.
I pressed higher, my palm sliding over the thick, warm curve of her thigh, stopping just short of where she needed me most. Her breath caught, her dimples flashing even as her lips trembled with restraint.
“You like this,” Calla said, her tone smooth but certain. “Being caught between us.”
Amiyah’s voice was barely a whisper, but it cut straight through me. “I do.”
The restaurant continued to buzz around us, oblivious, the sax player’s notes curling through the air. But in our little corner, the world shrank to nothing but heat, breath, and the slick sound of my hand moving higher.
Amiyah’s thighs parted for me, hesitant at first, then surrendering. I slid higher, fingertips grazing the damp silk of her panties. The second I touched her, her whole body jolted, her hand clamping down on mine instinctively before she let it stay.
“You’re soaked,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “All this from sitting between us?”
Her head tipped back against the booth, lips parting, breath coming quicker. She couldn’t answer, but she didn’t need to.
Calla bent lower, her lips brushing the shell of Amiyah’s ear, her voice silk and fire. “Don’t be shy, beautiful. Let him feel how wet you are. Let him know what we do to you.”
I pressed firmer, sliding the damp fabric aside, stroking over the soft, swollen folds of her fat pussy. Amiyah gasped, her thighs clamping around my hand for a second before opening again. Her hips tilted, chasing the friction.
“That’s it,” Calla purred, her words sharp and explicit, meant only for us. “James has those big, rough hands. He’llspread you open right here if I tell him to. He’ll fuck you with his fingers until you’re dripping down the seat. And I’ll sit back and watch you come apart, knowing you belong to both of us.”
Amiyah’s breath came out in shallow bursts, her fingers gripping the table so tight her knuckles whitened. I slipped one finger inside her, slow, and she bit down on a moan.
“Shh,” Calla whispered against her ear, her hand sliding down to Amiyah’s throat, holding her there. “You don’t want this whole restaurant to know, do you? You want to keep it our little secret. Just nod for me.”
Amiyah nodded, trembling, her curls brushing against my cheek.
I pushed deeper, curling my finger just right, and her hips bucked. I slid in another, stretching her tight heat, pumping slow at first, then faster, my thumb finding her clit.
Calla’s words never stopped. “Good girl. Take it. Let him work that pretty pussy until you can’t think. I want you to come for us, Amiyah. Right here. Right now. Be our dirty little slut.”
Her thighs shook, her body tensing, her nails digging crescents into the table. Her eyes fluttered shut, lips trembling as she fought the sound threatening to break free.
“Open your eyes and look at me while you come for us, like a good girl,” Calla ordered, her tone cutting through the music, sharp as a whip. “Let go and give it to us.”
