Chapter 295: My three hot girlfriends

If there were a court herald keeping tabs on earthly blessings, Eren Volsver was officially prepared to bribe the man with the entire eastern treasury to write down that he was, without a flicker of doubt, the single luckiest bastard breathing air on this continent.

This wasn’t just indulgence; it was a masterclass in sensory heaven, dual-wielded. One royal quest, two divine payouts, and not a solitary second wasted.

Phlap phlap phlap

With every thunderous thrust of his hips, he buried himself to the hilt inside Aria’s scalding, velvet vice, bottoming out so deep his balls slapped rhythmically against her soft thighs. And right above that glorious friction, his palm came down with a crisp, echoing smack across the cheek of Emma’s ass.

The knight yelped, a deliciously shocked shudder rippling straight up her spine as her firm cheeks wobbled like sun-kissed gelatin beneath his touch.

"Fuck—ahhh! Eren, yes—right there!" Aria wailed, all her elegance drowning in pure, unadulterated decadence. Her slender arms shot up, wrapping desperately around Emma’s neck, tugging the Swordmaster down until their sweat-slicked chests collided with a wet slide, breasts squishing together in a glorious collision of pale silk and tanned muscle. "Don’t stop—give me more, hit it harder, you arrogant—haaa!"

A few feet away, Norelia let out a series of muffled, squeaky whimpers, her face buried entirely in her cashmere collar while her own slick fingers worked tirelessly between her thighs, entirely overwhelmed by the symphony of unhinged depravity unfolding before her.

Between Eren’s relentless pounding and Emma pinning her flat, Aria’s aristocratic brain finally suffered a total, glorious systemic shutdown.

With a shattered scream, the villainess’s inner walls clamped down in a violent, spasming vice, drenching his shaft.

Knowing a fully dismantled noblewoman when he felt one, Eren dragged himself out of Aria’s drenched pussy.

He didn’t give his own fraying sanity a single second to cool down. Grabbing Emma’s waist, he hoisted her hips an inch higher, aligning his throbbing, veiny rod—thoroughly glazed in Aria’s slick juices—straight against the dripping entrance of the tanned tomboy.

"Captain," Eren whispered, his vision swimming with static as he leaned over her trembling back. "I’m at my absolute limit here. If I don’t unload right now, my core is going to turn this room into a crater."

Emma’s storm-grey eyes fluttered open with a wild, intoxicating blush. She glanced down at Aria, who was lying slack-jawed beneath her, floating in her own golden, euphoric little realm of stars, before looking back toward Eren with fierce, hungry resolve.

"Then do it," Emma whispered, her voice cracked, needy, and utterly commanding. "And don’t you dare spill a single drop out. Every last bit belongs inside me."

"On your command, Captain," Eren grinned unhingedly.

He drove forward.

Schlick.

Emma’s knuckles tightened into the deep pile of the fur rug, a breathless groan vibrating deep in her chest as his thick length stretched her wide, claiming every millimeter of her interior. Her toned body rippled from shoulder to heel, her tight muscles locking around him like an iron gauntlet, milking the shaft with greedy, frantic contractions that pushed him straight over the edge.

Two heavy, desperate thrusts.

Three ragged, frantic gasps.

Eren slammed his hips flush against her cheeks, burying himself to the absolute root, and let the floodgates rip.

A moan tore from his throat as the massive release he had held back through trials, torture, and teasing finally detonated deep within her. Waves of hot, thick seed flooded inside her, filling her to absolute overflowing while Emma’s insides spasmed, drawing every single drop out of him as if desperate to anchor his lineage into her soul right then and there.

When the final shuddering aftershock finally ebbed away, Eren’s knees gave out entirely.

He collapsed forward with a heavy, contented groan, planting his face straight between Emma’s sweaty shoulder blades. His weight pushed Emma down flat, who in turn collapsed directly on top of Aria’s sprawled, limp frame, neatly assembling the best sandwich the Reedings estate had ever hosted.

For a long while, the only sound in the grand room was the cozy, rhythmic crackle of the fireplace and the synchronized, ragged panting of three entirely spent disasters.

Eren dragged himself out of the glorious heap of exhausted feminine perfection with a long, theatrical exhale.

He stood tall in the amber firelight, chest puffed out, chin lifted high like a conquering warlord who had brought three savage nations to their knees and claimed their territories in a single night. A truly majestic, peerless sight.

Then his knees wobbled, his balance vanishing.

"Gods above and demons below," Eren muttered, windmilling his arms once before hastily catching himself. "My kneecaps have officially resigned from service."

Wobbling like a newborn deer on ice, he dragged his naked, battle-worn body and collapsed backward into the plush, velvet-cushioned chair near the hearth. He sprawled back, throwing one leg over the padded armrest, resting an arm behind his head like an emperor.

’Finally,’ he thought, letting his heavy eyelids droop with deep, blissful contentment. ’The war is won. Time for a well-earned, six-hour coma.’

"Look at him," a small, raspy voice chimed in from the edge of the rug.

Norelia’s slick fingers finally slid free, a tiny, satisfied shiver passing through her body. Her red eyes gleamed with adorable, hazy malice as she looked between the two spent women. "The target appears under the delusion that the tribunal has concluded. He believes he is permitted to rest."

"Rest?" Aria wheezed from the floor, slowly pushing herself up on one porcelain elbow. Her loose midnight curls tumbled messily over her bare, sweat-glistening shoulder. "After casually violating my dignity, tossing me aside, and claiming asylum in my favorite chair? I haven’t even begun to collect my damages."

Emma rolled onto her knees and stretched her toned back. Her abs rippled, her storm-grey eyes locked dead onto him. "You think you can fulfill a lifetime’s promise with a single charge? My core barely warmed up."

Eren’s eyes snapped wide open, his exhausted smugness instantly evaporating into bewildered panic.

’Wait a damn second.’

These three weren’t just happily spent; their brains had been completely hijacked by whiskey, adrenaline, and unhinged sister-wife solidarity. They weren’t plotting a graceful bedtime. They were actively orchestrating a coordinated assassination campaign against his lower half, fully prepared to milk him into a dehydrated husk and mail his funeral urn back to House Volsver by sunrise.

"Ladies," Eren held up a single, defensive palm, offering a grin. "Let’s exercise some rational restraint here. Earl Reodeo expects a sharp, coherent delegation at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. If you carry out this unlawful coup, you’ll be rolling my corpse into the conference hall on a wheeled cart."

Of course, nobody listened.

Aria gracefully pushed herself to her feet, entirely naked and completely unbothered by her lack of attire. Swaying slightly on her feet with a tipsy, elegant swagger, she bypassed the bed and walked towards the ornate closet in the corner. "Hold that scoundrel down. I need a specialized instrument for the archives."