Chapter 97: Chapter 98: The excess

Thorin’s POV

The room was thick with heat and pleasure.

Perfume hung in the air like smoke, sweet and cloying, mixing with the sharper smells of sweat and wine and something darker underneath. Candles burned low on every surface, casting golden light across velvet cushions and marble floors and bodies tangled together in ways that would have shocked anyone who was not already inside these walls.

This wing of the stronghold was known only to a few. The doors were sealed. The guards outside had been chosen for their silence, not their skill. What happened in this room stayed in this room. That was the agreement. That was the price of entry.

I sat at the center of it all, a woman draped across my lap, another pressed against my side. Their hands moved over me with practiced ease, their mouths finding the places they knew I liked. I did not have to ask. I did not have to direct. They knew their roles as well as I knew mine.

Around me, The room was a furnace of tangled limbs and slick skin. There was no talking, only the wet sounds of bodies slapping together, the low grunts of men, and the high, breathless whimpers of women. The air smelled of sweat, musk, and the metallic tang of sex.

I lay back against a pile of velvet cushions, a woman’s mouth wrapped tight around my cock, her head bobbing up and down, taking me deep into her throat. Another girl straddled my face, her thighs squeezing my ears as I drove my tongue into her wet slit, tasting her salt and heat.

My hands roamed freely. I grabbed a handful of soft breast, pinching a nipple until its owner cried out. I reached out and tangled my fingers in the hair of a man fucking a woman doggy-style beside me, pushing his head down, urging him to thrust harder. He obeyed, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock into her with brutal force.

I dragged the woman off my face, her juices shining on my chin, and shoved her toward a man kneeling nearby. “Suck him,” I ordered, watching greedily as she swallowed his thick shaft. I turned my attention back to the woman between my legs, gripping her hair and forcing my cock deeper until she gagged, the vibration of her throat sending jolts of pleasure through my groin. The heat was oppressive, a physical weight that made my skin slick and my blood boil. Everywhere I looked, flesh was meeting flesh in a desperate, sloppy rhythm. One man had two women bent over a chaise, his fingers buried in one while he slammed his cock into the other, their moans mixing with the wet slap of his hips against their asses.

The pleasure was sharp, too much, a spike of ecstasy that made my vision blur. I thrust my hips up, fucking the woman’s mouth with brutal, erratic strokes. She choked but didn’t pull away, her hands digging into my thighs. With a loud groan, I emptied myself down her throat, my body seizing up as the release tore through me. I pushed her away, my chest heaving, and looked around for the next distraction. The scene hadn’t paused. A cluster of three people twisted on the floor to my left, a man grinding into a woman while she ate out another girl, their bodies gleaming with sweat and spilled wine. It was a machine of lust, and I was the one pulling the levers.

I didn’t wait to soften. I grabbed a fresh bottle of oil, pouring it over my shaft until it dripped onto the rugs, then pulled a tall, dark-haired woman toward me by her wrist. She didn’t speak; she simply turned around and bent over, bracing her hands on the table, presenting her ass to me. I didn’t prep her gently. I lined my slick cock up with her tight hole and drove in hard, burying myself to the hilt in one thrust. She screamed, a raw sound of pain and pleasure, her back arching as I gripped her hips and began to pound into her. The table rattled with every impact, knocking over goblets and sending wine cascading onto the floor like blood. I wanted to break something. I wanted to fuck until the boredom burned away.

I shifted my grip to her shoulders, digging my fingers in to hold her steady as I jackhammered into her, the wet slap of our bodies echoing like gunshots in the cavernous room. Her moans dissolved into incoherent sobbing, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the edge of the table. I could feel the friction burning hot along my length, the tightness of her ass clamping down like a vice. It wasn’t about her climax; it was about the friction, the resistance, the sheer physical exertion of dominating another living thing. I pulled out almost entirely, just the head stretching her rim, before slamming back in, watching the reddened flesh quiver with the impact.

To my left, a man with a scarred chest was buried balls-deep in a petite redhead, her legs wrapped around his waist as he rutted into her like a beast. He looked over at me, eyes glazed and wild, and I reached out, pouring the remains of the wine bottle over their joined bodies. The dark liquid splashed over her bouncing breasts and his thrusting stomach, mixing with the sweat dripping from his brow. He roared at the sensation, his pace turning frantic and sloppy, the wet slap of skin against skin growing louder and faster until he stiffened, burying his face in her neck to muffle his roar as he spilled himself inside her. The sight sent a fresh jolt of electricity through me, triggering a second, harder surge of lust.

I didn’t stop. I pulled out of the woman in front of me, leaving her collapsed and trembling against the sticky table, and scanned the room for another vessel. My eyes landed on a young lady who was serving wine, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fascination. She wore a simple silk slip that was already damp with the humid air of the room. I crooked a finger at her, a silent command that could not be ignored. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before setting the tray down and walking toward me on shaky legs.

When she reached me, I didn’t give her time to kneel. I spun her around and yanked her down onto my lap, her back to my chest. My cock, still hard and slick, slid between her thighs, hot against her skin. I bit down hard on her shoulder, tasting the salt of her skin, while my hand moved between her legs. She was dry, tense, but I didn’t care. I worked two fingers roughly into her folds, spreading her wetness with a crude lack of patience. She gasped, her head falling back against my shoulder, her body stiffening in my grip.

“Relax,” I growled against her ear, biting the lobe. “You’ll enjoy it more if you don’t fight.”

I didn’t wait for her body to obey. I lifted her hips and dragged her down onto my cock, forcing the thick head past her tight entrance. She cried out, a sharp, startled sound, her nails digging into my thighs as she was split open. I didn’t give her a moment to adjust. I gripped her waist and bounced her on my lap, using her weight to drive myself deeper, each thrust forcing a gasp or a sob from her throat. The friction was intense, a hot, squeezing pressure that milked the length of my shaft. I watched over her shoulder as her breasts bounced with the violence of my movements, the pale skin flushing pink with the rush of blood.

The debauchery swirled around us like a storm. I looked past the girl in my lap to see two men double-teaming a woman on the floor, one filling her ass while the other choked her with his cock. Her eyes were rolling back, her body limp between them as they used her holes for nothing more than relief. The sight fueled the dark hunger in my gut. I tightened my grip on the girl’s hips, slamming her down harder, ignoring the way her muscles trembled and clenched around me. She was just another sleeve for my pleasure, a warm, soft place to bury my rage and boredom.

The heat in the room had become suffocating, the air thick with the scent of sex and spilled alcohol. I could feel the pressure building at the base of my spine, a tight knot of ecstasy demanding release. I shoved the girl off my lap, sending her sprawling onto the cushions, her legs splayed and her chest heaving. I stood over her, stroking my slick, swollen cock with a rough, fast rhythm. With a guttural roar, I came, thick stripes of white painting her stomach and breasts. She flinched as the heat hit her skin, but I didn’t stop until I was empty, my breath ragged in the silence of my own mind while the moans of the room continued unabated.

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