Chapter Three
Isidor opened his eyes. He was very comfortable, aroused, a soft body pressing in front of him. For a moment he wondered if the Dorsan—Mina, her name had been Mina—was still on The Singsong. He raised his head. He was holding a siren.
That was enough to wake him up right away.
He looked. So much for their promise not to touch her. The siren was tucked in front of him, molded to him, her butt pressing directly on his c**k under his pants. One of his arms was under her, his elbow crooked, her head resting on it, the other over her and hanging off Winter’s shoulder. Her hands were curled on Winter’s chest, holding the cloth of his shirt, who was facing them, her head under his chin, his hand on her hip, his knee between her legs.
They were like a complete puzzle full of piec
