Chapter 930: Clumsily Hot (r-18)
Soraya’s wide mouth spread into a slow, wicked grin. Even Noor’s stillness cracked, one corner of her lips lifting into something private and sharp.
"Oh, Phei," Soraya breathed, leaning in until her words landed warm against the shell of his ear, her counterpart already moving to close the distance on his other side. "It’s on."
The words hung in the locked room like a match struck in the dark.
Phei actually felt the shift immediately — the air thickening with the heat of three bodies that had been circling this moment for hours.
Soraya’s breath was warm against his ear, carrying the faint scent of something sweet and expensive.
Noor’s cool fingers were already sliding higher along the open edges of his side but her touch was hesitant at first, almost reverent, as if she couldn’t quite believe she was allowed to do this.
They moved in on him together.
Soraya’s hands went straight for his robe, bold and a little too eager. Her fingers fumbled with the knot at his waist — once, twice before the fabric slipped in her grip because her hands were trembling just slightly from the sheer reality of what they were doing.
She let out a soft, embarrassed huff of laughter against his neck.
"Shit— sorry," she muttered, cheeks flushing warm. "I’ve been thinking about this since the second fitting this morning. My hands are apparently staging a protest."
Phei’s mouth curved in a low amusement as she lied about her actually trembling from what was happening.
His right hand lifted from the armrest and slid slowly up the outside of her thigh, under the hem of that scandalously short skirt; wasn’t it better if he made the fisrt bold move to let them know this was happening and calm their hammering hearts.
Her thigh beneath was smooth and warm, and he felt the way her thigh actually trembled under his palm as he squeezed gently.
"Take your time," he murmured, voice like velvet dragged over gravel. "I’m enjoying the view."
Phei’s fingers traced higher her thighs getting bolder than she imagined he was going to be, her brushed the edge of her underwear through the thin fabric, and Soraya’s breath hitched; she trembled as he felt his hand there, she nearly feel but he caught her.
She finally got the knot undone, the robe falling open to reveal the hard planes of his chest and stomach.
Noor made a small sound on his other side — barely audible, but there — as her eyes dropped to the exposed skin.
Noor’s hands were steadier, but only barely.
She reached for the collar of his robe with careful fingers, sliding it back over his shoulders.
The fabric caught for a second on his arm, and she had to lean in closer, her floral dress brushing against his side, the thin straps slipping slightly off one shoulder. Her dark hair fell forward like a curtain as she worked, and Phei caught the way her eyes flicked up to his face, wide and dark with a mix of nerves and raw hunger.
She had imagined this...
...He could see it in the way her lips parted when her fingertips finally touched bare skin — the way her cool composure cracked at the edges the moment she felt the heat of him.
Her touch was light at first, almost shy, tracing the line of his collarbone before she leaned in and pressed her mouth there.
The first kiss was clumsy.
Noor’s lips landed a little off-center, soft and uncertain against his skin.
She pulled back half an inch as if startled by her own boldness, then tried again, pressing a slower, open-mouthed kiss just below his throat.
Her breath was warm but her hands trembled slightly where they rested on his shoulders.
Soraya, emboldened by the sight, finally got the robe the rest of the way off his arms and let it fall behind the chair.
She didn’t waste time and leaned in and kissed the center of his chest — firm, a little too hard at first — then softer, her wide mouth dragging over muscle as if she was trying to memorize the taste of him.
Phei let out a low, appreciative sound.
His left hand rose to Noor’s waist, sliding around to the small of her back and pulling her a fraction closer. His right hand stayed under Soraya’s skirt, they moved before his palm cupped the curve of her ass through the thin barrier of her underwear his fingers flexing in a slow, possessive squeeze.
"You two are shaking," he murmured, voice rough with amusement and heat. "Been thinking about this all day, have you?"
Soraya laughed against his skin — breathless, a little embarrassed.
"Since the call sheet this morning," she admitted, kissing lower, just above his sternum. "Noor kept pretending she wasn’t staring at your chest between takes. I caught her twice."
Noor made a soft, mortified sound against his neck but didn’t pull away.
Instead, she kissed him again — slower this time, lips parting, tongue flicking out once in a shy, experimental lick that made Phei’s stomach tighten.
Her dress had ridden up slightly from the way she was leaning over him. Phei’s hand on her back slid lower and his fingers brushed the hem before slipping underneath to trace the back of her thigh.
She shivered hard against him.
Soraya was less patient...
...She kissed down the center of his chest, then shifted to the side, her mouth finding the hard line of his pectoral.
She sucked lightly — not quite a mark, but close enough to make him feel it — and Phei’s hand on her ass tightened in response.
He let his head fall back against the chair, eyes half-lidded, watching them both with dark, satisfied heat.
His cock was already thickening in his trousers, the bulge becoming more obvious with every passing second.
He didn’t hide it.
He wanted them to see what they were doing to him.
Noor’s kisses trailed across his chest to his left nipple. She hesitated for half a second — a flicker of nerves — before she licked over it experimentally.
When Phei’s breath caught and his hand flexed on her thigh, she did it again, bolder, sucking gently.
Soraya watched for a moment, then mirrored her on the other side, her mouth hotter, more confident. She scraped her teeth lightly over his skin and Phei let out a low groan.
"Fuck," he muttered. "That’s it."
The two women exchanged another glance over his chest — this one charged, almost shy in its own way.
They were figuring it out as they went.
Soraya’s hand slid down his stomach, fingers tracing the hard ridges of his abs before she hooked them into the waistband of his trousers.
She fumbled with the button for a moment, her knuckles brushing the growing bulge beneath, and she bit her lip hard when she felt how hard he already was.
Noor’s hand joined hers. Together they worked at the button and zipper, movements a little clumsy, fingers brushing against each other and against the hot, hard line of his cock through the fabric.
Every accidental touch made Phei’s hips shift slightly in the chair.
When the zipper finally came down, Soraya let out a soft, almost startled breath.
The trousers slid down his hips with their help, bunching around his thighs. Phei lifted his hips obligingly, letting them tug the fabric the rest of the way off.
His strong legs were revealed, hidden with power, the kind of legs built from training and bloodline and whatever else made him move the way he did. The black fabric of his boxers did nothing to hide the thick, heavy bulge straining against the front.
Soraya and Noor both paused.
Their eyes dropped at the same time.
The silence that followed was thick, charged, and very, very obvious.
Soraya’s lips parted. Noor’s fingers tightened on his thigh.
They looked at each other.
A quick, heated glance passed between them — wide eyes, flushed cheeks, the unmistakable spark of ’holy shit, we’re really doing this and he’s this hard for us.’
Soraya’s tongue darted out to wet her lower lip. Noor’s breath came a little faster.
Phei watched them with a slow, satisfied smile, one hand still resting possessively on each of their bodies.
"Problem?" he asked, voice low and teasing.
Soraya was the first to recover. She let out a shaky laugh and shook her head, but her eyes kept flicking back down to the thick outline of his cock.
"No," she said, voice a little rough. "No problem at all."
She settled to her knees between his spread legs without another word. The movement was a little awkward in the tight space, one knee bumping the leg of the chair, but she didn’t seem to care.
Her hands slid up his strong thighs, palms warm through the skin, and she leaned in to press an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of his left thigh.
The kiss was hungry but still a little clumsy — too much pressure at first, then softening as she found her rhythm.
She kissed higher, then lower again, working her way down the thick muscle of his thigh toward his knee and then lower still, toward his calf.
Her dark waves brushed against his skin as she moved, and every so often she would glance up at him through her lashes, eyes dark with want.
