The ballroom had never been so silent.
Every noble eye flicked between the two women standing in the center of the chamber, tension dripping from their bodies like sweat from skin.
Evelyne, robed in black and gold, her lips still swollen from last night's wrathful passion. Power crackled at her fingertips.
Seraphine, all scarlet silk and slow, predatory smiles. Her nails trailed along the stem of a wine glass like it was a throat she planned to squeeze.
And Lucien stood between them—still sore from Evelyne's riding, still aching from Seraphine's mouth. Still aching for more.
"I don't recall inviting you to share my toy," Evelyne said, voice smooth, lethal.
"He came willingly," Seraphine purred. "Moaning for me like a good little beast."
Evelyne's magic hissed in the air. "You marked what is mine."
"Oh darling," Seraphine chuckled, circling Lucien like a snake. "He's not yours. Not until you tame that cock of his. And judging by the way he spilled in my mouth... you've got competition."
Lucien's cock stirred again. Gods, he hated how hard he was. How hungry.
He stepped forward, voice low. "If I'm a prize… maybe you should both earn me."
That stopped them.
Two queens. Two deadly sorceresses. And the man they craved… offering himself up like sin on silk sheets.
"Very well," Evelyne whispered. "Let's see who he begs for first."
That night.
Lucien lay naked in the center of the ritual chamber—body slick with oils, limbs splayed open, eyes blindfolded by a velvet ribbon soaked in aphrodisiac.
The air was thick with incense, power, and promise.
Hands touched him—two sets, feminine and skilled. One traced patterns over his thighs, teasing. The other stroked his chest, circling his nipples.
Then lips—soft and cruel—found his cock.
One mouth sucked slow and deep. The other licked his balls, whispered spells into his skin.
Lucien gasped. "Who...?"
"Shhh," Evelyne cooed.
"Don't speak," Seraphine breathed, licking up his shaft. "Just surrender."
They devoured him together.
Tongues, lips, nails.
One sat on his face, moaning as his tongue worked deep inside her. The other slid down his cock until she was riding him, grinding, milking, her magic surging through every thrust.
Lucien came once—then again—and still they didn't stop.
They fed on his pleasure, and the Binding Flame screamed inside him, bathing the room in pulsing red light.
He was undone. Worshipped. Used.
And when it was over, the women lay beside him—Evelyne on one side, Seraphine on the other.
Two queens.
One cock.
No mercy.