Harem Points System: Every Touch Counts!-Chapter 145: Boom

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The shower was a cathedral of steam and marble, the rainfall heads cascading hot water over their bodies like liquid silk. Sunlight poured through the frosted skylight above, turning the mist into a halo of gold and white. Xavier stood beneath the central shower, water sluicing down the hard planes of his chest, over the ridges of his abs, tracing the V of his hips before running off the heavy, half-hard length of his cock. Seraphina and Celene flanked him, black hair plastered to their backs and breasts, skin flushed pink from heat and use.

He didn't speak at first. He simply reached for the jasmine body oil on the marble bench, poured a generous stream into his palm, and began.

First Seraphina.

He turned her to face the tiled wall, hands sliding over her enormous breasts, oil making them gleam as he kneaded and lifted, thumbs circling her nipples until she whimbed. Then down her waist, over the curve of her ass, fingers slipping between her cheeks to tease the tender, swollen ring he'd claimed twice already. She pushed back into his touch with a broken moan.

Celene watched, biting her lip, until Xavier crooked a finger.

"You too. Hands on the wall beside her. Ass out."

They stood shoulder to shoulder, foreheads almost touching, water drumming on their backs. Xavier oiled his hands again and painted slow, worshipful lines down both spines at once. When he reached their asses he spread them wide, thumbs pressing into still-gaping holes, drawing matching gasps.

"Look at you," he murmured, voice barely audible over the water. "Still open for me. Still dripping me."

He sank two fingers into each of them without warning (Seraphina's pussy, Celene's ass), curling, scissoring, stretching them open again while hot water poured over their joined bodies.

Seraphina's knees buckled. "Xavier… please… I'm so sensitive I could come just from your fingers."

Celene turned her head, kissing Seraphina sloppily, tongues sliding. "Do it," she panted against her mouth. "Come on his fingers while I watch. Then I want his cock in my throat while he fucks you."

Xavier's cock was fully hard now, jutting up against his stomach, angry red and glistening. He pulled his fingers free and replaced the ones in Seraphina's pussy with one ruthless thrust. She screamed, the sound echoing off marble, her palms slapping the tile for balance as he set a brutal pace (hips snapping, water splashing, oil and cum mixing into a slick, filthy glide).

Celene dropped to her knees without being told. Water streamed over her face and breasts as she took him into her mouth on every out-stroke: when Xavier pulled almost all the way out of Seraphina, Celene swallowed him to the root, throat working, then released him so he could slam back into Seraphina's cunt. Over and over (pussy, mouth, pussy, mouth) until Seraphina was sobbing with overstimulation and Celene's mascara ran in black rivers down her cheeks.

Seraphina came first, violently, squirting around Xavier's cock so hard it splashed Celene's face and chest. The sight (water and girl-cum streaming over Celene's enormous breasts) sent Xavier over. He pulled out of Seraphina, fisted Celene's soaked hair, and fucked her mouth in three brutal thrusts before spilling down her throat with a guttural roar. She swallowed every drop, eyes locked on his, then opened her mouth to show him it was gone before licking her lips.

They weren't done.

Xavier lifted Celene bodily, turned her, pressed her back to his chest. One arm banded under her breasts, the other guiding his still-hard cock into her ass in one slow, relentless push. The water made it glide, but she was so tight, so swollen from earlier, that she still cried out (half pain, half pure bliss).

Seraphina sank to her knees in front of them, water drumming on her bowed head. She looked up, eyes shining, and began licking: Celene's clit, Xavier's shaft, the place where they joined, gathering oil and water and the faint taste of his last release. Every thrust into Celene's ass pushed her clit against Seraphina's tongue.

Celene's head fell back against Xavier's shoulder. "I'm going to come again… I can't stop coming for you…"

Xavier bit her neck, hard enough to bruise. "Then come. Milk my cock with that perfect ass while she drinks you down."

It took less than a minute. Celene shattered, ass clenching rhythmically, a high, keening wail echoing off the walls as Seraphina sucked her clit through the orgasm. Xavier followed seconds later, pumping another thick load deep into Celene's ass until it overflowed and ran in warm rivulets down her thighs to mingle with the shower water.

When he finally pulled out, both women were trembling too hard to stand. Xavier shut off the water, wrapped them in enormous heated towels, and carried them (one under each arm like precious, ruined treasure) back to the bed that still smelled of the entire night.

He laid them side by side on fresh sheets someone on staff must have changed while they were gone. Their bodies were marked: bruises blooming on hips and throats, faint red handprints on asses, lips swollen, eyes glassy with exhaustion and satisfaction.

Xavier stretched out between them, pulling the covers up just enough to keep them warm. The room was quiet except for their breathing and the soft ticking of the grandfather clock.

Seraphina was the first to speak, voice hoarse and wondering.

"I don't think I can move. I don't think I want to. Ever again."

Celene laughed weakly, reaching across Xavier's chest to lace her fingers with Seraphina's.

"Same. I'm full of him in every possible way. If I move I'll leak for days."

Xavier pressed a kiss to each of their foreheads, tasting water and salt and them.

"Good," he murmured. "Stay full. Stay ruined. We're not leaving this bed until tomorrow."

He reached for the bedside phone, pressed a single button.

"Room service," he said calmly into the receiver. "Bring breakfast for three. Eggs, fruit, champagne. And don't knock—just leave the cart outside. We're occupied."

He hung up, tossed the phone aside, and pulled both women closer.

Outside, the day burned bright and new.

Inside, the three of them drifted into a sated, tangled sleep (limbs intertwined, bodies still pressed together, hearts beating the same slow, possessive rhythm).

They would wake up hungry again soon.

They always did.

The cart arrived soundlessly, pushed by unseen hands and left just outside the double doors. The faint clink of silver lids and the scent of warm croissants, ripe strawberries, and rich coffee slipped under the door like an invitation.

Xavier woke first.

He always did, predator senses attuned to the smallest shift in the world.

For a long moment he simply lay there, drinking in the sight of them.

Seraphina was curled on her side facing him, one arm flung across his chest, her enormous breasts pressed soft and warm against his ribs. Her lips were parted, breath slow and sweet, black hair a wild halo around her flushed face. A faint bruise (his teeth) darkened the curve where her neck met her shoulder.

Celene lay on her back on his other side, one leg hooked over his thigh, the sheet riding low on her hips. Her breasts rose and fell in a hypnotic rhythm, nipples still dark and swollen. Between her thighs the sheet clung damply; the slow, steady trickle of everything he'd left inside her had soaked through during their brief sleep.

Xavier's cock stirred, thick and heavy against his stomach, already half-hard again. He could have taken them right then (rolled Seraphina onto her back and slid into her while Celene watched, or pushed Celene's thighs apart and licked her clean before fucking her awake). But the hunger in his belly was almost as sharp as the one in his groin, and the thought of feeding them (of watching their mouths work while they were still soft and pliant from sleep) made his pulse thud low and hot.

He slipped from the bed without waking them, padded naked to the door, and wheeled the cart inside. The morning light had strengthened; it poured over the silver domes and crystal flutes, over the bowl of fat strawberries and the small pitcher of fresh cream.

...

A/N:

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