Ryan pulled out slowly.

The slick, wet sound of his retreat made Diana whimper, her body instinctively chasing the loss of heat.

She collapsed entirely against the marble island, her face turned to the side, her eyes closed in a haze of absolute exhaustion.

The ruined black lace of her bodysuit hung off her shoulders, her skin flushed a deep, feverish pink.

Ryan didn’t give them a moment to catch their breath. The Warlord Protocol hummed in his blood, a dark, insatiable frequency that demanded total, unrelenting consumption.

He reached down and grabbed Diana by the upper arm, hauling her off the counter. She stumbled, her legs useless, her heels scraping against the hardwood.

"Walk," Ryan commanded, his voice a low, echoing rumble in the quiet penthouse.

He didn’t wait to see if she could stand. He hooked his other arm around Zara’s waist, pulling the supermodel off the edge of the island. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

He guided them both out of the kitchen, their bare feet and clicking heels moving across the polished floorboards, leading them into the sprawling, dimly lit expanse of the living room.

The massive velvet sectional sat like a dark island in the center of the room, facing the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The city lights from the Manhattan skyline bled through the rain-streaked glass, casting long, shifting shadows across the thick Persian rug.

Ryan walked to the center of the rug and sat down heavily on the edge of the velvet cushions.

He spread his legs wide, planting his boots firmly on the floor. His cock jutted upward, thick, heavy, and aching with unresolved tension.

He looked at the two women standing in front of him.

The contrast was breathtaking. Zara, standing in just her cropped white tank top, radiating a fierce, feral vitality.

Diana, shivering in her torn lace bodysuit, her immaculate blowout destroyed, looking like a shattered porcelain doll.

"Down," Ryan ordered softly, his eyes locking onto Diana.

The venture capitalist didn’t hesitate. The fight was entirely gone from her system. She dropped to her knees on the thick rug, crawling forward until she was positioned directly between his spread boots.

Ryan looked up at Zara.

"Come here," he said, his voice dropping into a rough, magnetic cadence.

Zara stepped forward. She didn’t kneel. She swung one long, flawless leg over his thigh, straddling his lap. She sank down slowly, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her bare breasts flush against his chest.

Ryan gripped her by the hips, guiding his thick, throbbing shaft directly to her dripping entrance.

He pulled her down, burying himself deep inside her tight, gripping heat in one smooth, unbroken motion.

Zara screamed, a loud, raw sound that tore through the quiet living room.

She threw her head back, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders as she took his full length. Her inner walls clamped around him instantly, milking him with a frantic, desperate heat.

Ryan’s hands locked onto her waist, dictating the rhythm. Zara rode him. She pushed up on her knees, pulling almost all the way off his shaft before slamming her weight back down. The wet, filthy sound of their bodies colliding echoed over the low hum of the rain.

He looked down at Diana.

She was kneeling on the floor, her tear-streaked face level with his lap, staring blankly at the hypnotic, brutal piston-motion of his cock sliding in and out of the supermodel.

"You don’t get to rest, Diana," Ryan commanded, his voice dark and absolute.

Diana let out a ragged, muffled sob, but she obeyed instantly.

She leaned in, her trembling hands resting flat against Ryan’s thighs to anchor herself.

She parted her lips and pressed her mouth to the heavy, sensitive skin of his balls.

Ryan gritted his teeth, a low groan vibrating in his chest. The dual sensory overload was staggering.

Above, Zara was riding him with a violent, unrestrained hunger, her tight core stretching and clutching around his shaft.

Below, Diana’s hot, wet mouth worked over his testicles and the slick base of his cock on every upward stroke Zara took.

Diana’s tongue swirled and lapped with a desperate, frantic devotion.

Stripped of her pride, she poured every ounce of her subjugated energy into pleasing him, kissing the sweat from his abdomen and licking the heavy, musky scent of his arousal off his skin.

Zara looked down.

The feral, competitive fire in her blood surged into an absolute inferno. Seeing the immaculate Wall Street titan relegated to her knees, forced to worship Ryan’s thighs and balls while Zara claimed the ultimate prize, incinerated her senses.

There was no connection between the women, only a brutal, vertical hierarchy, and Zara sat triumphantly at the absolute apex.

"Fuck," Zara breathed out, her nails digging violently into Ryan’s shoulders. She ground her hips down into his lap in a chaotic, desperate rhythm, intentionally pushing herself deeper. "I’m the only one who takes it. I’m your primary."

"You are," Ryan growled, his hand gripping her hip hard enough to leave bruises.

He slammed into her, burying himself to the hilt. Diana whimpered against his thigh, her mouth working faster.

She was completely devoted to him, entirely eclipsed by the shadow of the supermodel riding him above.

"You’re both doing exactly what you should," Ryan sneered, his breathing turning ragged. "The board of directors should see this. They should see how flawlessly Diana Lockridge cleans up after my assets."

Diana let out a choked sound against his skin.

The degradation fueled her, her tongue working harder, desperate for his praise.

Zara was hyperventilating, her eyes rolling back beneath her fluttering lids. She couldn’t handle the friction.

It was a white-hot fire burning through her veins. Her walls spasmed violently around Ryan’s cock, milking him with a frantic, crushing grip.

"Ryan—I’m close—" Zara sobbed, her body beginning to shake. "Please—don’t stop—"

"Let go," Ryan commanded, his own control fracturing under the intense, gripping pressure inside Zara and the hot, relentless suction of Diana’s mouth on his base.

He drove his hips upward and held it, burying himself to the absolute hilt.

Zara shattered completely.

Her spine bowed so hard it looked like it might snap. A deafening, feral cry ripped from her lungs, echoing through the penthouse.

Her core clamped down on him like an iron vise, contracting in a rapid, violent succession of spasms that squeezed every ounce of oxygen out of Ryan’s lungs.

The intense, milking pressure dragged Ryan straight over the edge.

With a deep, animalistic groan, he erupted. He pumped thick, heavy, burning pulses deep into Zara’s quivering core.

He gripped her hips tightly, holding her flush against him, driving the climax all the way into her while the orgasm wracked his entire frame.

Beneath them, Diana pulled back slightly, her chest heaving, her lips shining wetly in the dim light.

She collapsed forward onto the Persian rug, resting her forehead against Ryan’s boot, utterly spent just from the psychological weight of serving him.

Zara slumped forward, collapsing entirely against Ryan’s chest.

Her breathing was jagged and shallow, her heart hammering a frantic, deafening rhythm against his skin.

He wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her damp hair, letting the absolute silence of the room wash over them.

The storm still raged outside the glass, but inside the sanctuary, the Warlord had conquered the territory.