CHAPTER 189: THE BREACHED FORTRESS 2 (R-18)

Without breaking rhythm, my left hand slid to Ortega’s thigh, the heel of my palm grinding into the thick, tense muscle. She twitched—barely—but her breath hitched hard, telling me the pressure landed exactly where she fucking needed it.

On my right, Victoria waited. I reached across, thumb and forefinding the inside of her forearm, tracing down to the web between her thumb and index finger—a place most people never touch, wired straight to the cunt. Her fingers curled involuntarily, nails scraping the table’s edge. A tiny, wet sound escaped her lips.

"Even rhythm," Anya murmured, still trying to test me.

I smiled without looking up. "Then match."

I shifted my stance, weight balanced, moving between them in a tight triangle—thumbs digging into Victoria’s shoulder, knuckles raking down Anya’s spine, palm circling Ortega’s hip and dipping dangerously close to her ass. The oil turned every stroke into a slick glide, heat coiling under skin.

Anya exhaled, long and low, like she’d been holding it for years. Victoria’s lips parted, silent, her chest rising faster. Ortega’s eyes stayed shut, but she bit her lower lip hard enough to draw a bead of blood.

I kept my voice low, rough. "This is what three at once feels like. None of you waiting, none of you half-seen. All of you... dripping in my hands."

The towels stayed, but they shifted—gravity and movement conspiring to show just enough curve, just enough wet slit peeking out. My hands read every cue: a shoulder dropping, a foot flexing, the kind of breath that comes right before someone forgets to fucking guard it.

Five minutes in, the skepticism was gone. The challenge flipped—now I decided how long to keep them trembling, caught in the rhythm my hands set.

"Still think I can’t handle it?" I whispered, voice grinding.

No one answered. But the sound of three women panting, slick and desperate, told me everything.

The towels hit the floor. The change in the air was instant – no more professional distance. Just skin, heat, and the heavy risk of trust laid fucking bare. Three women, offering themselves up. Glistening. Ready.

Victoria was closest. Breathing fast. I moved on her like a predator. Hand sliding up her ribs, fingertips dragging hard over the sensitive underside of her breast before cupping its full weight. Her nipple pebbled instantly against my palm. Fingers tangled in her hair at the back of her neck, yanking her head back to expose the long line of her throat. My eyes pinpointed the pulse hammering there—frantic, fucking vulnerable.

I put my mouth on it. Not a kiss. A hard, deep suck, teeth scraping skin. She gasped, hips jerking forward like she’d been electrocuted, seeking pressure. Her soaked cunt brushed my thigh.

My other hand dropped, tracing the curve of her spine down to the small of her back, pressing her hard against me. Her breath shuddered out, wet and hot against my neck. I released her throat—leaving a vivid red mark blooming on her skin.

The Eye lit up a path: the hollow between her collarbones. I licked there, tasting salt and oil. Then lower, following The Eye’s guidance straight to the tight peak of her breast.

My mouth closed over her nipple, tongue swirling, teeth grazing just enough to make her cry out.

While my mouth sucked and bit her breast, my other hand mapped her flank, hip, thigh. Her muscles quivered under my touch. I pushed her, bending her back slightly over the dresser. My free hand slid down her stomach, fingers brushing through the neat curls at her apex before roughly parting her folds.

She was slick, burning. I found the swollen nub The Eye highlighted, circling it with my thumb while my mouth continued its assault on her breast. Her moans turned ragged, thighs trembling.

"Eros—" she choked out, a plea, a surrender.

Any moment of pause was wasted. Anya pressed in behind me, her cool skin a shock. I snagged her without looking, arm hooking around her waist, yanking her flush against my back.

My mouth tore away from Victoria’s glistening nipple, biting down hard on Anya’s shoulder—hard enough to leave deep teeth marks. She hissed, the sound vibrating through my spine, her body tensing like a bowstring.

I spun us, backing Anya against the wall. Victoria stayed where she was, flushed and watching, tits heaving. My hands gripped Anya’s hips, thumbs digging into the hollows. My eyes scanned her: high strung, needing release. I ducked my head, mouth blazing a trail down her sternum, over the taut plane of her stomach, pausing to dip my tongue into her navel.

Her hands flew to my hair, pulling, not guiding.

I ignored her grip. My hands slid from her hips to the backs of her thighs, lifting her, pressing her harder against the wall. My mouth found the crease where thigh meets torso, biting, sucking, making her whimper.

Then I moved inward, tasting her directly. My thumbs spread her open, tongue delving deep, finding the exact spot my eyes pulsed brightest—a hidden cluster of nerves just inside her entrance. I pressed the flat of my tongue against it, again and again

, while one hand slid up to pinch her nipple sharply.

Anya arched off the wall, a choked scream tearing from her throat, nails raking my scalp. Her inner walls clenched around my tongue. I didn’t stop until her thighs clamped around my head, shudders wracking her body.

Ortega had watched it all, silent, calculating. Her eyes were dark pools of controlled fire. I left Anya gasping against the wall, turning finally to Ortega. Stepped in until the heat radiating off her skin scorched mine. Her chest almost brushed mine. The air crackled.

I didn’t grab her face this time. My hands went to her shoulders, pushing down firmly. She resisted for a fraction—a test—then sank slowly to her knees before me. Her gaze never left mine, defiant even in surrender.

I saw her tension coiled low, deep. She wouldn’t yield easily. I knelt with her, not towering. My hands framed her face again, thumbs brushing her jawline, softer this time. My mouth met hers. Not hard, not asking—but taking. Slow, deep, possessing.

Her lips parted, tongue meeting mine with equal ferocity. A low growl vibrated in her chest.

One hand slid down her throat, over the proud line of her clavicle, palming the heavy swell of her breast. Her nipple was a hard point against my skin. I rolled it between thumb and forefinger, feeling her breath hitch against my mouth.

My other hand traced the powerful muscle of her back, down to the firm curve of her ass, squeezing hard, pulling her hips forward against mine. Her cunt brushed the stiff length of my cock.

I broke the kiss, moving lower. My mouth traced the elegant line of her shoulder, down her bicep, lingering in the crook of her elbow – a sensitive spot the Eye flagged. I bit there, not gently.

A sharp intake of air. Her hands, which had been gripping my arms, clamped down like vices.

Lower still. My tongue circled her navel, teeth scraping the sensitive skin below it. My hands kneaded her breasts, thumbs rasping over her nipples. Her breath came faster, shallower. I pushed her onto her back. She went willingly, eyes still locked on mine, burning with fucking challenge and need.

I spread her legs wide, kneeling between them. The Eye highlighted her entire swollen sex like a glistening target. I started at her knees, kissing a path up the inside of one thigh, biting soft enough to mark, hard enough to make her jerk.

I repeated it on the other thigh. Her hips lifted off the floor, a desperate fucking offering.

My thumbs ripped her folds open. She was drenched, inner lips dark and flushed. I blew cool air across her clit. She twitched, a guttural curse escaping her lips.

Then my mouth descended. Not frantic. Thorough. I licked her slowly, from perineum to clit, savoring the taste, the slick heat. I circled her clit with the tip of my tongue, then sucked it, building pressure.

One finger slammed inside her, finding the ridged spot the Eye pulsed for. I pressed, circling, while my mouth sealed over her clit and sucked like I was starving.

Ortega didn’t cry out. She went rigid, every muscle straining. A deep, guttural groan was torn from her as she shattered, her inner walls clamping down on my finger, wave after wave of release shaking her powerful frame. I didn’t stop until her hands pushed weakly at my head, oversensitive, ruined.

They were all trembling, flushed, eyes hazed – but not fucking done. The Eye showed them still humming, still sensitive, still mine. I rose, pulling Victoria up from the dresser, guiding Anya away from the wall, helping Ortega sit up. I positioned them together – Victoria leaning back against Anya, Ortega beside Victoria, their bodies slick and pressed, sharing raging heat.