The smoke coiled like living smoke, thick with the aftershocks of the pheromone storm—every nerve ending in the room still screaming for touch. My touch. Only mine. I stepped forward, into the eye of the hurricane they'd become.
Fifteen women, trembling, slick with sweat and need, their eyes locked onto me—begging, praying, burning.
I moved.
My hands shot out—not choosing, claiming. Fingers closed around Janet's throat, not choking, but owning. My thumb pressed hard against the pulse point as I yanked her against my chest. Her entire body convulsed as if electrocuted, a choked scream tearing from her lips.
She was on her toes...
"FUCK! YES! THERE!" Her hips ground wildly against my thigh, soaking my cock between her legs with her desperate heat. But I didn't linger. My hand slid down, fingers hooking into the soaking wet heat between her legs. I curled them inside her—two, then three—finding that spongy spot instantly. Janet's eyes rolled back.
