CHAPTER 190: THE BREACHED FORTRESS 3 (R-18)

My hands roamed again. Everywhere. Palming slick breasts, pinching sensitive nipples until they gasped, sliding down sweat-slicked stomachs, dipping through the wet heat between their thighs.

My mouth moved between them, a relentless fucking circuit.

I kissed Victoria, tasting Anya’s scent on her tongue. I bit Anya’s shoulder, tasting the salt. I sucked Ortega’s lower lip, tasting her own deep, musky essence.

Then down. My mouth found Victoria’s clit again, swollen and exposed. I flicked it rapidly with my tongue while two fingers plunged deep inside her. She shattered instantly, bucking against Anya, keening, nails digging into skin.

Before her tremors subsided, I shifted. My mouth moved to Ortega. She was still sensitive as hell. I licked her softly, slowly, rebuilding the torture, while one hand strummed Ortega’s clit. Ortega came again with a sob, clutching Victoria’s arm.

Finally, Anya. I knelt before her, my hands gripping her thighs, holding her open. I looked her in the eyes as my mouth covered her cunt. I licked, sucked, thrust my tongue deep, used every trick the Eye showed me – pressure points, rhythm, brutal intensity – until her eyes rolled back, her body arched like a fucking bow, and she came with a silent, convulsive shudder that seemed to last forever, leaving her utterly limp.

My hands slid up Victoria’s ribs, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. Her nipple stiffened. The Eye pulsed: Throat. Pulse. Sensitive. I bent, mouth sealing over the frantic beat at her neck. Sucked hard. She gasped, hips jerking, nails scraping my biceps.

"Shh," I murmured against her skin. "Just feel."

My hands mapped her down: spine, lower back, the curve of her ass. I squeezed, pulling her tight against me. My mouth trailed lower – collarbone, sternum, the hollow between her breasts.

Left nipple. High sensitivity.

I latched on. Tongue swirling, teeth grazing, suction pulling deep. She whimpered, head falling back. One hand stayed on Vic’s breast, pinching and rolling the other nipple. The other dived between Anya’s thighs. She was soaked.

I parted her folds, found the swollen nub The Eye burned bright. Circled it with my thumb. Slow. Hard.

"Eros—" she choked out.

Her thighs trembled. I pushed her back against the dresser, spreading her wider. Dropped to my knees. The Eye focused: Clit. Engorged. Inner labia. Slick.

I put my mouth on her. Not gentle. Flat-tongued, broad strokes up her center, flicking her clit at the apex. She cried out. Her taste filled me – salt, heat, urgency. I sucked her clit between my lips, tongue thrashing the tip while I pumped two fingers inside her, crooked upward, hitting the spots.

"Oh god, oh god," she babbled, hands fisting in my hair. "Right there... right..."

I didn’t stop. Sucked harder. Fingers thrusting faster, deeper. Her thighs clamped around my head. Her whole body bowed off the dresser, a strangled scream tearing loose as she convulsed. I felt the pulse on my tongue, the clench around my fingers.

I kept licking, kept pumping, wringing every last shudder until she slumped, boneless, gasping my name like a prayer.

I left Victoria panting from my touch. Anya’s complete turn. I spun, backing her against the wall before she could react. My hands gripped her hips, thumbs digging hard. "Spread your legs," I ordered.

She did, slowly, eyes defiant. The Eye scanned: Thigh crease. Sensitive Mons. Clit hooded. Inner entrance. Tight.

I bit down hard on the muscle where her thigh met hip. She hissed, back arching off the wall. My tongue laved the sting. Salty. Her scent was sharp – ozone and need.

I licked down her mons, avoiding her core. Teased. Built the ache. Her hands gripped my shoulders, nails digging. I looked up.

"Look at me," I growled.

Her eyes met mine, blazing. I lowered my head. Finally. My tongue parted her folds again. Swiped up from her entrance to her clit in one long, slow stroke. Her breath hitched. I did it again.

Faster. Harder. Tongue fucking her shallowly, then fluttering over her clit.

"More," she demanded, voice tight.

I chuckled against her skin. "Patience."

I sealed my mouth over her clit. Sucked. Hard. While my thumb rubbed circles just below. Her hips jerked. I slid two fingers inside her. She was incredibly tight. I scissored them slightly, stretching her, pumping. Her breaths turned to sharp pants.

"Fuck," she snarled. "Don’t stop."

I didn’t. I added pressure, suction, speed. Tongue a blur on her clit, fingers pistoning deep, finding that rough patch inside. The Eye pulsed: Peak. Near.

I curled my fingers upward. Pressed hard. Sucked her clit deep into my mouth.

"EROS!"

Her orgasm hit like an explosion. Legs kicking against the wall, back arching violently, a guttural cry ripped from her throat. I felt her inner muscles ripple around my fingers, tasted the flood of her release. I kept going, drawing it out, until she slumped, shuddering, a soft whimper escaping her lips.

Ortega hadn’t moved. Her gaze was heavy, unreadable. I rose, stalking towards her. The air crackled. "On your knees," I said, voice low.

Her jaw tightened. Then, slowly, gracefully, she sank to the rug. Not submission. Preparation. Her eyes never left mine. Challenge.

I knelt in front of her. Not towering. Level. My hands framed her face. Kissed her – deep, possessive, tasting of Victoria and Anya. Then I pushed her gently back. Flat on the rug. Spread her legs wide.

The Eye mapped her like expensive terrain: Outer labia. Dark. Full. Clit. Partially hooded. Prominent. Inner entrance. Deeply pink. Slick. Perineum. Highly sensitive.

I started there. Licked a slow, wet line from her perineum up to her clit. She flinched. Her taste was rich. Dark. Complex.

I circled her clit with the tip of my tongue. Light. Teasing. Her breath hitched, barely audible. I did it again. Pressed harder. A flick. She made a low sound in her throat.

My hands slid under her ass, lifting her hips. Giving me better access. I lowered my mouth fully. Tongue delving deep inside her, fucking her with it. Simultaneously, my thumb found her clit and began to rub. Firm. Circles.

She was silent. Tense. Her hands gripped the rug beside her. Knuckles white. I felt the tension coiling in her thighs. The Eye glowed: Build. Steady. Deep points.

I shifted. Tongue focusing solely on her clit now – broad strokes, then pinpoint flicks. Two fingers slid inside her, seeking. Found. That spot. Deep, rough. I pressed. Massaged.

Her breath hitched. Once. Her thighs trembled. I sucked her clit hard, fingers pressing deep, massaging relentlessly.

Her body went rigid. Her head snapped back. A silent, open-mouthed gasp. Then wave after wave of violent contraction hit her. Inner walls clamping down hard on my fingers. Her hips bucked up off the floor. A single, choked sound escaped her – "Hahhhh—"

I rode it out. Kept sucking, kept pressing, until the shudders subsided. Until she lay utterly still, flushed, breathing hard, a fine sheen of sweat on her skin. Her eyes, when they finally opened, held not defeat. But acknowledgement. And absolute fire.

I rose slowly. The room stank of sex – sharp, musky, raw. They were sprawled on the floor and against furniture – wrecked.

Flushed skin slicked with sweat. Hair wild. Lips bitten. Marks blooming on necks, hips, thighs. Tremors still rippling through spent muscles. Naked. Utterly claimed. No towels. No barriers. No doubt. Just the aftermath of surrender extracted by tongue and touch.

Victoria dragged in a ragged breath, voice a hoarse rasp. "You don’t fit here, Eros... You’re stuck."

Anya grinned, fierce even while boneless. "And close’? It’s gonna leave bruises."

Ortega pushed herself up slowly, onto her elbows. Her gaze locked onto mine, clear, intense, unbroken. She didn’t speak.

Her single, deliberate nod wasn’t an agreement. It was a treaty signed in sweat and release. A recognition of power shifted. A promise that this wasn’t an end. It was the opening salvo in a war where possession had just been tasted... and proven absolute.

The fortress wasn’t just breached; it was wide open.

The real storm was about to begin.