Chapter 222: Ren’s Hands are Full**

Ren wanted to stop thinking. Her brain felt like a browser with too many tabs open, and half of them were frozen.

’Why am I fighting this?’ Ren asked herself, staring at the two magnificent specimens of male perfection kneeling before her.

Back in her world, she had spent most of her life behind a hot stove, smelling like garlic and onions, shouting orders at line cooks, and going home to an empty apartment and a microwave dinner. She had lived for the reviews, for the stars, for the validation of strangers.

’Maybe,’ Ren realized with a jolt of clarity, ’I was brought to this world when I died to finally… actually live.’

It wasn’t too late for her to start anew. The old Ren Reynolds—the stressed, workaholic Michelin star chef—died the moment she fell off that cliff. She was gone.

Now, she was just Ren. The best damn cook in the Beast World. The Queen of the Frying Pan. And, apparently, the mate of three incredibly handsome, possessive, and sexy beast husbands.

’This is my life now,’ Ren accepted, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. ’I live in a tree. I eat dinosaur meat. And I have a harem.’

Maybe it was her arousal spouting all that philosophical nonsense in her head. Maybe this was just her lust and her needy body taking over under the guise of “self-discovery.”

But frankly? She didn’t care.

Ren looked at Kael and Altair. They were waiting, their eyes burning with a mix of hope and raw hunger.

“Fine,” Ren whispered. “I surrender.”

She wasn’t going to fight it. Not tonight.

Ren reached out with both hands.

Her small, pale fingers wrapped around them.

In her left hand, she gripped Kael. He was thick, heavy, and hot to the touch, the veins prominent and pulsing against her palm. In her right hand, she gripped Altair. He was sleek, incredibly hard, and smooth as marble.

Both men sucked in a sharp breath simultaneously.

“Ren…” Altair breathed out, his eyes fluttering shut.

Ren didn’t waste time. She began to stroke them.

She established a rhythm, moving her hands up and down their lengths. She twisted her wrists at the top, swirling her thumbs over the sensitive heads, coating them in the pre-cum that was already weeping from the slits.

Kael’s reaction was immediate and intense. His entire body went rigid. The muscles in his thighs and abdomen bunched up like steel cables. He threw his head back, gritting his teeth, refusing to make a sound, but his hips bucked involuntarily into her hand with every stroke.

He was enduring the pleasure like a warrior taking a blow, his silence heavy and potent.

Altair was the complete opposite.

“Ngh… ah…”

The Golden Eagle was vocal for such a quiet beastmen. He leaned into her touch, his golden wings half-manifesting in a spectral shimmer behind him before vanishing again. He watched her hand on him with wide, glazed silver eyes, letting out soft, breathy moans that sounded incredibly sweet and incredibly dirty at the same time.

“You like that?” Ren purred, feeling a surge of power.

She was controlling two powerful beastmen with just her hands.

But her hands weren’t enough. She wanted to see them unravel completely.

Ren leaned forward. She turned her head to the left and took Kael into her mouth.

She bobbed her head, sucking him deep, swirling her tongue around the ridge just the way she learned he liked it. Kael groaned low in his chest, a rumbling purr that vibrated through her teeth. His large hand came up to cradle the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her messy red hair, but he didn’t force her. He just held her there.

While she serviced the Tiger, her right hand continued to work Altair, stroking him faster, milking the fluids from him.

Ren pulled off Kael with a wet pop and turned immediately to the Eagle.

She took Altair into her mouth. He tasted different—cleaner, muskier in a way that reminded her of the wind and rain.

Altair gasped.

His hips snapped forward, driving himself deeper into her throat. He wasn’t used to this sensation. He was overwhelmed. His fingers dug into the furs of the nest as he arched his back, his beautiful face twisted in pure ecstasy.

Ren alternated between them. Left. Right. Tiger. Eagle.

She used her hands and her mouth in a symphony of wet noises and skin-slapping friction.

She licked Kael’s heavy balls while stroking Altair’s shaft. She kissed Altair’s inner thigh while pumping Kael’s length.

The hut was filled with the sounds of their pleasure—the wet slurping, the friction of skin on skin, Kael’s guttural grunts, and Altair’s desperate moans.

“I’m close,” Kael growled, his voice strained to the breaking point. “Ren… hand… faster.”

“Me too,” Altair panted, his silver eyes rolling back. “Do not stop.”

Ren didn’t stop. She sped up. She stopped using her mouth and used both hands, stroking them furiously, twisting and milking them with a ruthless grip.

Kael roared.

They erupted together.

Hot spurts of seed covered her hands, splashing onto her chest, her stomach, and the furs. Ren didn’t let go. She kept pumping them through the climax, milking every last drop from them as they shuddered and twitched in her grip.

Kael slumped forward, resting his forehead on her shoulder, breathing heavily. Altair fell back onto his heels, looking dazed, his chest heaving as he stared up at the ceiling.

Ren sat back, wiping her sticky hands on her thighs.

She looked at them.

Kael lifted his head. His golden eyes were dark, dilated, and burning with a fire that hadn’t been extinguished in the slightest.

Altair sat up. His silver gaze was laser-focused on her body, sweeping over her naked curves with predatory intent.

Ren looked down at their laps.

They were still hard.

Rock hard.

If anything, the release seemed to have only woken them up. The veins were still bulging, the heads still purple and angry. They were standing at attention, saluting her with terrifying resilience.

“More,” Kael growled.

“Can we mate now?” Altair asked, his voice low.

Ren’s eyes widened as the two predators loomed over her, their shadows swallowing her whole.

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