Chapter 218: Lynx, Eleanor and her Squad II

He took her from the side, one leg hooked over his hip, and the angle was so deep she felt him in her stomach.

He put her on top and let her ride him, and she did, slow and grinding, her tits in his hands, and when she came the fourteenth time she collapsed forward onto him and he caught her and rolled them both over and fucked her through it.

He felt it coming before she did. Her whole body tightened. Her cunt clamped down on him like a fist, and Eleanor screamed, actually screamed, and came so hard her vision went black at the edges.

Lynx came with her.

His hips slammed into hers one last time, buried to the hilt, and he spilled inside her, hot and thick and so much of it that it started leaking out around his cock before he’d even finished.

His own sigil blazed silver above his brow. His cock glowed bright enough to light her from the inside.

Eleanor’s body went limp.

Her legs slid off his waist. Her arms fell to the sheets. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her breathing evened out almost immediately, and the gold light of her sigil faded to a soft, sleeping shimmer.

She was out.

Lynx stayed inside her for a long moment, catching his own breath, watching her face go slack and peaceful.

Then he pulled out slowly, she whimpered in her sleep, just a small sound, and a thick trail of cum followed him, sliding down her inner thigh and onto the sheets.

He sat back on his heels.

The four girls at the foot of the bed were staring at him. Layla’s mouth was open. Iris’s cheeks were bright red. Rhea’s arms were still crossed but her knuckles were white.

Nadia had a hand pressed flat against her own chest like she was checking her own heartbeat.

Lynx wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist and smiled.

"Layla," he said. "You’re Next Dear."

Layla Solara stood up from the foot of the bed without a word.

She was the tallest of them, taller than Eleanor, taller than Rhea, with the kind of long limbed, big framed body that made the room feel smaller when she moved through it.

Her crimson hair fell past her shoulders in a heavy wave, and the amber of her eyes had gone dark and liquid in the firelight. She didn’t look nervous. She looked hungry.

She reached behind her back and unzipped her dress in one clean pull.

The black fabric slid off her shoulders and pooled at her feet. Underneath, nothing but skin. No bra. No panties.

Her breasts swung free as she stepped out of the dress, heavy, full, the kind of weight that pulled at her frame, tipped with nipples already hard and dark against her pale skin.

Her waist narrowed above wide hips, and the triangle of red hair between her thighs was a shock of color against the white of her.

Lynx watched her from the bed. Eleanor’s cum was still drying on his stomach. His cock was still slick from her, still glowing, still half-hard and rising.

"Come here," he said.

Layla crossed the room. She climbed onto the bed on her knees, straddling his lap, and her breasts hung level with his face.

She didn’t wait for him to reach for her. She took his jaw in both hands and kissed him, hard, open mouthed, her tongue pushing past his teeth like she was trying to taste Eleanor on him.

He let her. One hand slid up her back, palm flat between her shoulder blades. The other found her hip and pulled her down against his cock, which was already hard again, already leaking, already glowing brighter as her heat pressed against it.

She broke the kiss with a wet sound and looked down at him.

"You talked a lot of shit about stamina," Layla said, breathless. "Let’s see it."

Lynx smiled. "Get on top."

She didn’t need to be told twice. She rose up on her knees, reached down between them, and wrapped her fingers around his cock, thick, hot, pulsing light against her palm, and guided him to her entrance.

She was already wet. Slick enough that the head of him slid in with almost no resistance, and then she sank down.

All the way down, breaking the hymen. One slow, steady drop of her hips until her ass met his thighs and he was buried in her to the root.

Layla’s head fell back. Her mouth opened. A long, low sound came out of her, not a moan, something deeper, something pulled up from her chest, and her hands braced on his shoulders and her thighs clenched around his hips.

"Fuck," she breathed. "Fuck, you’re—"

"I know."

"Don’t get cocky."

"I’m literally inside you."

She laughed, a real laugh, sharp and surprised, and then she started to move.

Slow at first. A grind, rolling her hips forward and back, feeling the length of him drag along her walls.

Her tits swayed with every shift of her weight, heavy and hypnotic, and Lynx watched them with open hunger. Then she lifted up, almost all the way off him, and dropped back down hard.

The slap of their bodies echoed off the walls.

She did it again. Harder. Again. Her rhythm found itself fast, and she rode him with the kind of confidence that came from a woman who had been waiting all night and was done waiting.

Her hips snapped. Her thighs burned. Her crimson hair stuck to her neck with sweat, and every time she came down on him her whole body jolted and her breasts bounced and a small, broken sound escaped her throat.

Lynx reached up and took one of them in his hand.

She gasped. He squeezed, not gentle, fingers sinking into the soft weight of her, and then he lifted his head and pulled her nipple into his mouth.

"Oh—oh fuck—"

He sucked hard. Laved it with his tongue. Bit down just enough to make her jerk and moan and grind down harder onto his cock.

He switched to the other one, mouth wet and hot, and Layla’s rhythm stuttered, broke, and came back wilder.

She was fucking him now with her whole body, using his shoulders for leverage, riding him like she was trying to break him.

"That’s it," Lynx murmured against her breast. "Use me."

"Shut up—"

"Ride it."

"I said shut—"

He bit her nipple and she came. It hit her mid stroke, sudden and violent, and her cunt clamped down on him like a fist. Her nails dug into his shoulders.

Her whole body arched, spine bowing, head thrown back, and she screamed, a raw, unguarded sound that made Iris flinch and Rhea’s crossed arms tighten.

Her sigil flared gold above her brow, and Lynx felt the pulse of it travel straight down his cock, and he groaned and thrust up into her, once, twice, hard enough to lift her off the mattress.

She collapsed forward onto his chest, panting.

He didn’t let her rest. He rolled them both over, she landed on her back with a soft oof, crimson hair fanned across the pillow, and he was already between her thighs, already pushing back in before she’d caught her breath.

"Lynx..."

"You wanted stamina," he said, and started to fuck her.

Not slow. Not tender. He drove into her with his full weight behind every stroke, and the bed frame groaned against the wall, and Layla’s tits bounced with every thrust, full and heavy.

Slapping against her own chest, and he caught one in his mouth again and sucked while he fucked her, teeth dragging over her nipple, tongue flat against the hard peak of it.

"Ah—ahhh~ fuck, Lynx, fuck—"

He pulled out and flipped her onto her stomach.

She caught herself on her elbows, ass up, and he dragged her hips back and shoved into her from behind. Deeper this time. The angle made her see white.

He gripped her hips hard enough to bruise and set a brutal pace, long, fast strokes that punched the breath out of her with every one.

"Harder," she gasped into the pillow.

He gave her harder.

The slap of skin filled the room. His balls hit her clit with every thrust, and she was so wet the sound was obscene, slick and loud and wet, and her cunt gripped him like she was trying to pull him deeper.

He reached around and found her clit with two fingers and rubbed it in tight circles while he fucked her, and Layla screamed into the pillow and came again, hard, her whole body shaking.

He didn’t stop. He pulled her upright onto her knees, back against his chest, his hands cupping both of her heavy breasts, mouth at her ear, and fucked up into her while he played with her nipples.

"Look at them," he said.

She looked. Iris, Rhea, and Nadia were still at the foot of the bed, and none of them were pretending anymore. Iris had a hand between her own thighs.

Rhea’s arms had uncrossed and her fingers were gripping the edge of the mattress. Nadia’s mouth was open, and she was breathing through it.

"They’re watching you come apart," Lynx murmured. "Does that make it worse?"

"No," Layla gasped. "It makes it—fuck—it makes it better—"

He bit her shoulder and she came a third time, and he felt her cunt spasm around him and knew he was close.

He laid her back down. Missionary, but not soft, he hooked one of her legs over his shoulder and fucked her at that angle, deep and grinding, and Layla’s eyes rolled back and her mouth went slack and she stopped being able to form words. Just sounds. Broken, helpless sounds, one per thrust.

Her fourth orgasm built slow and crashed hard. Her fifth came right on top of it. He fucked her through both, and when he finally let himself go he buried himself to the hilt and came inside her.

Hot, thick, pulsing, and Layla felt every rope of it land and shuddered and came one more time around him, milking him dry.

He stayed inside her until her breathing slowed.

When he pulled out, cum followed him, a thick white trail down her inner thigh, dripping onto the sheets.

Layla’s legs stayed open. She was too spent to close them. Her crimson hair was a wreck, her chest was heaving, and her sigil had faded to a soft, sleeping shimmer.

Lynx sat back on his heels and looked at the three women still standing at the foot of the bed.

"Iris," he said. "You’re next."