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.

"P-PETER!" she shrieked, muscles clamping down like a vise, gushing hotly over my knuckles. "Drowning... fucking drowning..."

Luna, my little innocent nurse stood frozen, trembling, hands clasped tight under her chin. My other hands descended on her. Not gently. I claimed her hips, biting into soft flesh as I spun her. I bent her brutally forward over a velvet chaise, her bare ass lifted high. My palm cracked down—once.

The sound was gunshot-loud. Luna shrieked, not just from pain, but from the explosion of pheromones-fed ecstasy the impact sparked.

"AGAIN!" she sobbed, pushing her ass back up. I obliged. Smack! Another crimson bloom. "PETER! OH GOD, YES!" Her entire body shook as she came, juices spraying the velvet.

On the side, Anya tried to brace herself. Useless. My fingers tangled in her hair, yanking her head back baring her throat. My mouth crashed down on hers—not a kiss, but possession. Teeth sank into her lower lip, drawing blood.

Anya whimpered, then screamed into my mouth as the pain morphed instantly into blinding pleasure. My hand shoved between her legs, rubbing her clit in hard, fast circles.

She came instantly as the damage had already been done by my auras and Pheromones, thrashing like a wildcat, nails tearing bloody lines down my back as she screamed my name into the smoke.

I released her. She crumpled.

Next. Ortega. Calm. Regal. I grabbed her by the waist, lifting her effortlessly as if she weighed nothing. I slammed her back against a marble pillar, her body jarring with the force. Before she could gasp, my mouth was on her breast.

Devouring.

I sucked her nipple deep, grazing it hard with my teeth, then soothing with my tongue, over and over, the rhythm brutal, relentless. Ortega's head thudded back against the marble, a long, low moan escaping her—then rising, rising into a piercing shriek.

"PETER! DON'T STOP! THAT... THAT TONGUE... OH FUCK!" Her thighs clamped around my leg, grinding desperately as the orgasm ripped through her. I let her slide down the pillar, leaving her gasping dents in the stone.

Sofia lunged for me, drunk on need. My arm shot out, catching her throat mid-air. I squeezed—just enough to make her eyes widen, then spun her, pressing her front against a massive, cold window overlooking the city lights. My body molded against her back, chest hard against her shoulder blades, my rock-hard cock grinding into the cleft of her ass through the thin silk pants still clinging to my hips.

"Look at them," I growled in her ear, nodding at her blurred reflection. "Look at what I do to you." My hand slid between her legs from behind, fingers finding her clit and rubbing exactly how she liked—fast, hard pressure.

"Fucking look while I break you!" Sofia's hands slapped against the cold glass, leaving smudges. She arched back against me, a keening wail tearing from her throat as she shattered, her juices gushing down her inner thighs, splattering the marble floor.

"PETER! MY KING! YES!"

Isabella lonely, Still shaky on the floor from my earlier feast of her motherly pussy. I didn't let her rise. I simply knelt, grabbed her behind the knees, and yanked her legs wide open. Her glistening pussy was laid bare, wet, swollen, visibly pulsing. I lowered my head. One slow, deliberate drag of my tongue from her leaking entrance to her throbbing clit. Isabella's scream was raw, primal, her body bowing off the floor.

"OH SWEET JESUS!" I did it again. And again. Long, slow, torturous laves, pressing the flat of my tongue hard against her clit on each upward stroke.

She came—hard—on the third pass. Her thighs clamped around my head like a vise, her fingers tearing at my hair, hips bucking wildly as she wailed, "CUMMING! PETER, I'M CUMMING AGAIN!" flooding my mouth.

Victoria watched, trembling. My hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. I pulled her down, onto her knees before the still-shuddering Isabella.

"Clean her," I ordered. Victoria looked at me, confused, then understanding dawned—laced with lust. She leaned forward, not towards Isabella's pussy, but the slick inner thigh near my hand. Her tongue darted out, tasting the mixture of Isabella's release and the faint salt of my skin where I'd touched her.

Victoria moaned, not from tasting Isabella, but from tasting me on her. Then her gaze locked mine, hungry. "Please, Peter... your fingers... inside me?"

I smiled. It wasn't kindness. It was a promise of devastation.

My hand moved from Isabella's thigh to Victoria's cheek. Gently. Almost tenderly. Then I slid two fingers into Victoria's mouth. She sucked them greedily, tongue swirling, coating them in her saliva. Then I slowly, deliberately, sank them deep into Victoria's dripping pussy.

"OH FUCK!" Victoria's back arched like a bowstring. "YOURS! ONLY YOURS YOU DEMON!" she screamed, her body convulsing violently as the dual stimulation—the pheromones amplifying my touch, the taste of me still on her tongue—sent her spiraling into a bone-shattering orgasm.

Around us, the others watched: Amanda, Celeste, Anastasia Romanov, Gabrielle, Ashby Rousseau, Sophia, Emma—all touching themselves wantonly, their bodies responding viscerally to the sight, the sounds, the sheer force of my possession of the others. Each one trembled, rocked by phantom waves of pleasure as the pheromones fed their arousal directly from the scenes unfolding.

"Please, Peter..."

"My turn..."

"Need you..."

The whispers were prayers. Moans were hymns.

I stood. Cum glistened on my chin. My fingers slick with Victoria's release. My cock strained painfully against the silk pants, a dark, wet stain spreading at the tip. Fifteen women lay sprawled, writhing, or kneeling—shattered, worshipful, owned.

The smoke curled around them like a shroud of devotion.

I looked at them all. My pulse roared in my ears.

"Again."

The word was a grenade dropped into gasoline.

They surged forward. Not as individuals. As a single, desperate organism.

And the storm began anew.

I didn't stop. My pheromones amplified, turning the air into liquid electricity. Sofia crawled toward me, desperate. I didn't bend. My right elbow crooked, pressing perfectly against Victoria's pussy as she knelt beside me.

One sharp flex. Victoria's eyes rolled back, a silent scream catching in her throat as her entire body convulsed.

My tongue found Ortega's mouth—a duel, not a kiss. I dominated, teeth sinking into her lower lip even as my left hand left Janet's throat to plunge three fingers into Amanda's dripping cunt. Amanda's back arched off the marble, a keening wail echoing.

"OH GOD—INSIDE ME—EVERYWHERE!"

My hips bucked, my silk-clad cock grinding against Isabella's ass as she pressed against my back. The friction ignited her. "PETER—TOUCH ME!" She clawed at my shoulders.

I did. My free hand—the one not buried in Amanda—snaked around Isabella's hip, fingers finding her clit. Circled. Once. She shattered, gushing down my wrist.

Pheromone Feedback Loop peaked. Every moan, every climax, fed the network.

Vivienne climaxed untouched, just from the scent-drenched air. Celeste sobbed, hugging herself as phantom hands—my hands—pinned her down, filled her.

Anastasia Romanov seized my wrist as I pumped Amanda's pussy. Not to stop me. To guide my fingers deeper. "Make her feel you, Peter," she hissed. "Show her what her king gives."

I obliged. My thumb found Amanda's clit. Rubbed. Hard. Amanda's scream shattered glass. Her inner walls clamped down like a vise, squirting violently, soaking my arm, my feet. The shower of her release triggered Gabrielle—who'd been grinding her clit against the marble column next to me. "PETER—YES—OH FUCK YES!"

My energy fields expanded. Tactile pressure wrapped around Emma—invisible hands palming her breasts, rolling her nipples. She screamed, untouched, climaxing from my will alone. Ashby Rousseau came too, writhing, as my phantom fingers filled her ass.

Sophia collapsed, orgasming from proximity—her body absorbing the pheromones like holy water. "Too much... too good..."

I stood unwavering—a god orchestrating a symphony of flesh and ecstasy.

Julia came with a silent shudder, eyes rolled back, pussy gushing onto the marble. Luna sobbed, fingers buried in her own cunt, feeling my fist inside her.

Every nerve. Every clit. Every G-spot.

All mine. All mastered.

The smoke coiled thick, heavy with the scent of surrender. Fifteen women lay spent—shattered, trembling, worshipping at the altar of my touch.

My cum-drenched hand rose. I licked Amanda's release from my fingers, then Luna's from my knuckles. The taste—pure, addictive, mine.

*

A/N: I dare you to say that wasn't hot. Also guys, his women call him whatever they want regardless of the form. Right now he's in Eros From, got to get those orgy points, right?

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