Tempted By Stranger

Mouth Of Worship

The girls giggled, shedding their tops in one swift, practiced motion, their breasts loosed beneath the lurid wash of neon, skin gleaming as if anointed by sin itself.

Xander’s jaw clenched, the muscles taut, his gaze fastening upon the one with hair like midnight streaked with pale gold. Her eyes—dark and burning with desire—clung to him alone. With deliberate calm, he filled his glass, swallowed the liquor in a single draught, and rose, a predator answering the call of prey.

Their laughter broke into squeals as he advanced. They knew his name—everyone in Lust and Luxe knew it. Xander: ruthless sovereign of the underworld, a man with empires in his grasp and ruin in his touch. To lie beneath him was the kind of blasphemous dream whispered in dressing rooms, a fantasy of power and degradation intertwined.

The blonde smiled with wicked intent, lips curling in invitation, while her dark-haired companion toyed with her breasts, moaning softly as if the sound itself might bind him closer.

From their table, James and Chris exchanged knowing smirks, watching their master lay claim to two women at once. Their own hands wandered to their companions, eager to gorge themselves on the same forbidden indulgence promised by the night.

Xander’s hand shot out, seizing the blonde by her golden hair, jerking her head back before his mouth crashed upon hers. The kiss was savage, voracious, his fist tangled in her silken strands. She clung to him, her moans half-plea, half-exaltation, as though roughness itself were the only lifeline she had.

He bit hard upon her lip, forcing a gasp torn between agony and rapture. When he drew back, his smirk carved itself across his face like a blade. His voice slid into her ear, low and dangerous, yet pitched for the black-haired girl to hear.

“Your name. Tell me the name of the slut I shall ruin tonight.”

The dark-haired beauty pouted, starving for his gaze, but the blonde—lips swollen, breath ragged—smiled with shameless delight.

“Lola,” she whispered.

Xander laughed, a deep, wicked sound. Lola. The name fit her—golden-haired, brazen, and trembling with the hunger to be undone. His eyes shifted, finally, to the dark-haired girl who still teased her n*****s like offerings to a god she prayed would not ignore her.

“And what of you, little slut?” Xander growled, his fingers fastening upon one stiffened peak, pinching until she gasped.

Her body shuddered, voice breaking on a moan. “I—I am Eve,” she whispered, breathless as his rough hand kneaded her breast with merciless command.

Lola’s eyes flashed with fury at her rival’s bliss. She seized Xander’s other hand and crushed it against her own breasts, grinding against his palm like a worshiper offering herself to her god.

Xander’s chuckle rumbled, low and cruel, the sound of a predator amused by the hunger of his prey. “Impatient little sluts,” he drawled, eyes glinting between them. “Can’t even wait your turn.” His lips curled into a smirk, dark and dangerous. “Come. We’ll take this to my chamber. I always make certain I’ve a room—where my whores may be properly broken.”

Lola and Eve’s eyes lit at his words, desire trembling through them like fever. They clung to his sides as he led them out, heels clattering against the polished floor. Before vanishing into the corridor, Xander cast one final glance back: James and Chris were already lost in their own debaucheries, rutting into their women like beasts in heat.

Satisfied, he turned away, his own sluts trailing after him with eager obedience.

The private room lay in shadow, the air heavy with whiskey and want. A velvet couch sprawled against the wall, its fabric seeming to drink the dim light, shadows curling about it like secrets aching to be broken.

With a shove, Xander sent Lola sprawling onto the cushions. She laughed breathlessly, breasts heaving as she opened her thighs with shameless abandon. Eve lingered close, her hunger sharpened into envy, watching like a starved creature at the edge of feast.

“Strip,” Xander commanded.

Lola obeyed at once, tearing away the last scraps of fabric clinging to her body. Her golden hair tumbled wild around her flushed face as she arched toward him, every line of her frame begging to be ruined.

Eve faltered, but only for a heartbeat. Her hands rose, tugging her dress up and over her head. The low light kissed her pale skin, her hard n*****s gleaming like sinful jewels. She twisted a lock of hair between trembling fingers, her body betraying both nerves and the hunger that consumed her.

Xander reclined into the black leather chair, the room’s shadows folding around him like a throne of sin. With a slow, deliberate motion, he loosened his belt, the metal buckle clinking in the quiet. His voice came as a low growl, thick with command.

“On your knees. Both of you.”

The words cracked like a whip. Lola and Eve scrambled across the floor, their silken dresses brushing against the carpet as they crawled to obey. They knelt between his spread thighs, their eyes upturned with fevered devotion. The air grew thick—perfume clinging sweet and sharp, mingling with the dark musk of his arousal.

Lola reached first, bold as always, her manicured hand closing around the heavy length of him, stroking with practiced precision. Eve leaned forward, lips parted, her tongue darting out to flick across the swollen tip, trembling with hunger and hesitation both.

“Good sluts,” Xander murmured, his fists tightening in their hair. He pulled them forward, forcing them to share his c**k, dragging gasps and wet moans from their throats as they fought for the right to please him. Their tongues slid and clashed, their mouths dripping devotion, their sounds vibrating through him like a hymn of lust.

Blood roared in his veins, satisfaction dark and absolute. Two women kneeling before him, worshipping his flesh—this was the world in its proper order.

“Don’t stop,” he snarled, shoving their heads lower, deeper, until both were gagging, drool glistening down their chins. “I want to hear you choke on it.”

Lola obeyed eagerly, moaning as she swallowed him down, while Eve clawed at his thighs, torn between the need for air and the greater need to please. The power in his hands was divine, merciless—and the hunger burning in their eyes only drove him further.

He thrust deep into Eve’s mouth, making her choke, tears spilling as his c**k filled her throat. His grip on her head was iron, holding her captive to every inch. The other hand tangled in Lola’s hair, guiding her down to his balls, her tongue and lips devouring him with greedy abandon.

A low, primal groan rumbled from Xander’s chest, raw and unrestrained, the sound of a man utterly enthroned by lust. Nothing in heaven or hell could rival this—two mouths, two desperate souls, worshipping him as though their salvation depended upon it.

Xander shut his eyes, thrusting mercilessly into Eve’s throat until tears streamed down her flushed cheeks. Her gagging, her helpless sputters, only drove him harder; the wet, obscene sounds reverberated through the chamber like a profane litany. With a savage grunt, he wrenched free, his c**k gleaming with spit, heavy and glistening in the dim light.

He brought it down across Lola’s face, the slap sharp and wet. She gasped, then moaned, tongue darting eagerly to lick along his shaft, from base to crown, worship in every stroke.

“Good little sluts,” Xander growled, fisting their hair, dragging their heads beneath his hand as though they were nothing more than offerings. “You know well how to worship a cock.”

Lola moaned, sucking greedily, her lips slick and swollen. Eve coughed, gasping for air, spit trailing from her chin in glistening strings. Xander’s smirk cut through the shadows, dark and satisfied.

“Enough,” he commanded, voice rough as gravel, heavy with promise. “On the bed. I will f**k you both raw—and as I ruin your tight little holes, you will call me Daddy.”

He slapped their faces lightly with his c**k, watching their pupils dilate, their mouths fall open with need. “Do you understand, sluts?”

“Yes, Daddy,” they breathed in unison, their voices trembling hymns of surrender.

Obedient as creatures bewitched, they crawled to the velvet bed, thighs spread wide, fingers slipping eagerly between their soaked folds. The room quivered with their moans, their eyes fixed on him in desperate hunger.

Xander rose, looming above them, stroking his c**k in slow, deliberate pumps, savoring the sight: two women laid out like sacrificial lambs, trembling, dripping, ready to be broken.

His hand tightened around his shaft, veins straining as he watched them writhe. “Yes… just so, my little sluts,” he murmured, voice thick with menace and promise. “Show me how you crave this c**k—pleasure yourselves for me while I ready mine.”

Their cries intertwined, a chorus of lust, as fingers delved deeper, circling swollen flesh, tugging at tender breasts. Sweat gleamed upon their skin like oil beneath candlelight.

“Daddy… won’t you come to us?” Lola whimpered, desperation dripping from her voice. “Please… we need you inside us.”

Xander’s lips curled into a slow, feral smile. He did not yet descend upon them. Instead, he lingered at the foot of the bed, stroking himself with deliberate patience, drawing out their torment, their hunger.

“That’s it,” he whispered, every word a curse and a vow. “Prepare your pretty, ruined cunts. Daddy’s c**k is ready—ready to claim you both, to tear open your slutty little bodies until you remember nothing but me.”