Chapter 21: six nine

Evelyn oiled her comb with reverence, like a priestess preparing for ritual.

Mary, with a knowing smile, slipped a soft pillow under the madam's belly, and together they rolled her onto her back, skin against silk, limbs entwined like vines in bloom.

Evelyn slid along her side, her touch feather-light and teasing.

Mary climbed atop her in a slow, deliberate six-nine, her body a supple offering of devotion.

The comb, slick with oil, glided along the madam's folds, tracing lazy circles before sinking deep into her glistening core.

Evelyn moved it with artful rhythm, coaxing sighs from lips painted in pleasure.

The madam arched, a sharp inhale swallowed by Mary's mouth as she captured her in a kiss, slow, lush, intoxicating.

Her hands slid into the madam's robes, kneading the generous weight of her breasts with reverence.

But Grace—watching, hungry—had no patience for subtlety.

She unfastened the madam's bodice, baring breasts like spring-ripe melons, kissed by cream and crowned in dark, chocolate-dipped nipples.

Her tongue circled one, then the other, soft flicks in teasing spirals.

Evelyn's strokes deepened.

"Do you want more?" she whispered, her voice a warm breath against the madam's ear.

"Yes…" came the gasp. "Please…"

Grace latched onto a nipple.

Mary slid down, parting glistening folds to wrap her mouth around the madam's clit, suckling, savoring, slow and intent.

The madam cried out, hips rising as Grace kissed her again, swallowing moans, pinching nipples between slick fingers.

Her gaze caught Mary's trembling form, her arse in the air—open, begging.

Grace slipped one finger into her tight entrance, then another into her dripping slit.

Mary trembled, her cries muffled against the madam's pulsing heat.

Evelyn drove the comb faster, deeper.

And then—Rae.

She arrived like thunder behind Grace, her bare hips brushing Grace's thighs.

She delivered a slap that echoed like silk on skin.

"A party without me?" she purred. "How bold."

Another slap, Grace gasped, her back arching as Rae's fingers found her clit, pinching, tugging, slapping again with rhythm and precision.

The harem trembled under their shared ecstasy.

Bodies collided, mouths devoured, fingers danced.

Evelyn and Rae met eyes, two women commanding pleasure like empresses, as the others unraveled beneath them.

A chorus rose: moans, gasps, cries

"Ooooooooh!" a sacred, messy hymn of surrender.

Juices spilled like nectar across thighs, across mouths.

Rae leaned close, lips brushing Grace's flushed skin.

"I love this," she murmured. "So soft. So red."