Chapter 163: Three Girl Massage
Diana’s hands mapped his chest. She traced the hard, flat planes of his pectorals, her thumbs brushing lightly over his nipples, eliciting sharp, involuntary twitches from his torso.
She leaned down, pressing her lips to his collarbone, whispering breathless, broken prayers of submission against his skin.
He was the absolute center of the universe.
The Warlord Protocol hummed a blinding, deafening frequency in his blood.
Ryan couldn’t stay passive. The crushing, overwhelming pressure building in his groin demanded execution.
He broke the kiss with Zara, his chest heaving. His large hands shot out, gripping Sophie by the waist.
He hauled her up off his shaft, pulling her forward until she was straddling his hips.
Sophie gasped, her eyes flying wide as the cold air hit her flushed skin. Ryan didn’t give her a second to adjust. He gripped her hips, guiding his thick, slick head to her dripping entrance, and drove his pelvis upward.
He buried himself to the absolute hilt in one brutal, devastating thrust.
Sophie screamed, her head throwing back, her spine bowing sharply. "Fuck, Ryan—yes—"
He didn’t slow down. He set a punishing, mechanical pace, his hips snapping upward off the mattress, driving deep into her tight, gripping walls. The wet, heavy slap of their bodies colliding echoed off the high ceilings.
Zara didn’t stop moving. As Sophie rode him, Zara shifted her weight, pressing her breasts flush against Ryan’s side. She leaned over his shoulder, her mouth finding his ear.
She bit his earlobe, her hot breath washing over his skin, whispering filthy, desperate praise while she continued to grind her own slick core relentlessly against his thigh.
Diana moved to his other side.
She gripped his heavy, dominant hand, pressing it flat against her own bare, shivering breasts. She pushed her chest up into his palm, her eyes squeezed shut in absolute, euphoric bliss, taking whatever scraps of physical dominance he afforded her while he hammered into the lead designer.
The coordination was flawless. None of the women looked at each other. None of them touched each other.
They operated in distinct, completely isolated zones of worship, their entire existence bottlenecked and focused entirely on him.
"Take it," Ryan growled, his breathing ragged, his grip tightening on Sophie’s hips. He thrust harder, faster, driving the designer backward until she had to brace her hands flat against his chest to stay upright.
"Yes," Sophie sobbed, entirely delirious, her inner walls spasming wildly around his cock.
The intense, milking friction of Sophie’s core, combined with Zara’s hot mouth on his neck and Diana’s desperate body pressing against his hand, incinerated the last fragments of his control.
"I’m close," Ryan ground out, his jaw locking tight.
Sophie’s eyes rolled back. Her body locked into a rigid, shuddering arch as a massive climax ripped through her frame. Her walls clamped down on his shaft with terrifying, crushing force.
The agonizing pressure dragged Ryan straight over the edge.
With a deep, animalistic roar, he buried himself as deep as anatomically possible and erupted. He flooded Sophie’s tight, quivering core with thick, heavy pulses of heat.
He held her pinned against his hips, driving the climax all the way into her, while Zara kissed the sweat from his jawline and Diana wept softly against his chest.
He pumped every last drop inside the designer, the aftershocks wracking his entire frame.
The heavy, dragging pull of exhaustion washed over the bed, settling into the damp silk sheets.
Ryan lay back against the upholstered headboard, his chest rising and falling in slow, deliberate expansions.
The frantic, hammering adrenaline that had fueled the morning finally burned out, leaving a thick, vibrating heat in his muscles.
He ran a hand over his face, pushing the sweat-dampened hair off his forehead.
Sophie slowly shifted her weight. She slid off his hips with a soft, exhausted exhale, her limbs heavy and uncoordinated.
She collapsed onto her side, her cheek pressing into the cool fabric of the pillows. Her breathing was jagged, her skin flushed a deep, mottled red across her chest and neck.
Nobody rushed to speak. The only sound in the sprawling bedroom was the relentless, driving rain battering the floor-to-ceiling glass.
Zara sat up slowly from where she had been curled against Ryan’s side. She pushed a heavy, tangled curtain of silver hair over her shoulder, her dark eyes tracking the slow rhythm of Ryan’s breathing before shifting across the mattress.
She looked at Diana.
The older woman was still kneeling near Ryan’s hip, her hands resting flat against the mattress. She looked completely spent, her chest heaving slightly, her gaze fixed on the tangled blankets at her knees.
There was no hostility in Zara’s expression.
They weren’t fighting for territory anymore. The territory had already been claimed, and they were all simply existing within it.
"Hand me that towel, will you?" Zara said, her voice quiet, entirely stripped of its usual aristocratic edge. It was just a regular, exhausted request.
Diana blinked, pulling herself out of her daze. She looked at Zara, then nodded. She reached across the foot of the bed, grabbing the thick, heated cotton towel they had brought from the bathroom earlier, and passed it over.
"Thanks," Zara murmured.
She leaned forward, pressing the soft cotton against Ryan’s chest. She wiped the sweat from his collarbone, dragging the fabric gently over the dark, fading bruises on his ribs.
Ryan let his eyes fall shut, his head resting against the headboard, absorbing the cool, soothing pressure.
"He’s completely burnt out," Sophie whispered from the pillows. She shifted, propping her head up on one arm. She looked at Ryan’s relaxed face. "You didn’t sleep at all last night, did you?"
"Enough," Ryan rumbled, the word vibrating deep in his throat.
"You’re a terrible liar," Diana said.
Ryan opened one eye, looking at her. Diana offered a small, weary smile, her shoulders finally dropping their rigid, defensive posture.
It was the most human she had looked since she stepped out of the private elevator. She wasn’t analyzing the room. She was just sitting on a bed, talking to him.
"We need to let him actually rest," Diana added, running a hand through her damp hair. She looked at Zara. "If we keep pushing him, his heart is going to give out before noon."
"I can handle it," Ryan said, his voice flat, shifting his weight to sit up straighter.
Zara pressed a hand flat against his chest, pushing him gently but firmly back against the headboard. "Don’t be stubborn. Lay back."
She tossed the damp towel onto a nearby chair and shifted her position on the mattress, moving down toward the center of the bed.
She looked at Diana, then at Sophie. An unspoken, quiet consensus passed between the three women. They didn’t need to negotiate or mark boundaries. They all wanted the exact same thing: to pull the tension entirely out of his spine.
"Move your knees a bit," Zara told Diana, gesturing to the space on Ryan’s right side. "Give me some room to angle in."
Diana nodded, shuffling backward on the mattress. "Are you going to try and fix his shoulders? Because the muscle tension there is like concrete."
"I was going to start lower," Zara said, a faint, teasing heat creeping back into her voice. She settled onto her knees right beside Ryan’s thigh. "But if you want to take his shoulders, go ahead."
Diana didn’t hesitate. She crawled up the length of the bed, positioning herself behind Ryan’s head.
She leaned over him, her bare breasts brushing lightly against the top of the headboard, and pressed her thumbs directly into the thick, corded muscles at the base of his neck.
Ryan let out a long, heavy groan.
Her hands were surprisingly strong, her fingers digging brutally deep into the knots that had formed over the last seventy-two hours of violence and paranoia.
"Jesus," Ryan grunted, his jaw locking as she hit a particularly vicious knot.
"Breathe through it," Diana murmured softly near his ear. She didn’t use her authoritative boardroom tone. It was just a calm, steady reassurance. She kept her thumbs moving in slow, agonizingly firm circles. "You carry all your stress right here. Just let the muscle drop."
On his left side, Sophie pushed herself up into a sitting position.
She ran a hand over her face, shaking off the exhaustion of her own climax.
She looked across Ryan’s hips at Zara, who was currently tracing the faint outline of the veins running down his lower abdomen.
"You take the right, I’ll take the left," Sophie suggested casually, reaching out to grip Ryan’s left thigh.
Zara smiled. "Works for me."
They moved in perfect, synchronized tandem.
There was no awkwardness, no bumping of elbows. They operated with a shared, hyper-focused intent. Sophie’s hands mapped the heavy, dense muscle of his outer thigh, kneading the tension from the flesh, while Zara mirrored the motion on the right.
The physical relief was staggering. Ryan’s head fell back against Diana’s hands, his eyes sliding shut again.
The sheer, overwhelming sensation of multiple hands working over his body, not with frantic, desperate lust, but with slow, deliberate care, completely short-circuited his adrenaline.
He didn’t have to direct them, give an order or manipulate a power dynamic.
He just had to lie there and exist.
"His skin is burning up," Sophie noted quietly, her thumbs pressing into the crease of his hip. "You really are running a fever, Ryan."
"It’s just adrenaline," Ryan muttered, his voice thick and slurred with exhaustion.
"It’s exhaustion," Diana corrected from above him, her fingers dragging firmly down the back of his neck, sending a violent shiver down his spine. "You haven’t stopped moving since yesterday morning."
Zara’s hands slid higher, her palms resting flat against his lower stomach. She leaned over him, her hair falling across his thighs. "Let’s bring the heart rate down," she whispered.
She leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his hip bone.
The touch wasn’t sexual, not initially.
It was just a warm, affectionate grounding point. But the moment her lips made contact with his skin, the blood in his veins flared.
The heavy, aching weight in his groin, which had only just begun to subside, sparked back to life.
Sophie noticed the shift immediately. She felt the subtle, involuntary tightening of the muscles under her hands.
She looked across the bed at Zara, her eyebrows raising slightly.
"I think the heart rate is going the other direction," Sophie remarked, a quiet laugh coloring her words.
