They dropped to their knees in a tight semicircle, eyes locked on my still-hard cock, slick with Nala's cream and my last load. Tessa started first, tongue flat and broad, dragging up the underside from base to tip in one slow, filthy lick. "Fuck, Evan… you taste like heaven mixed with sin." She swirled around the head, lapping up a bead of precum. "God, even your precum's addictive."

Jasmine dove in from the left, lips sealing around the shaft, sucking gently as she bobbed. "Mmm, can't stop… your cum's so thick and sweet." She pulled off with a pop, tongue flicking the vein underneath.

Kim took the right side, licking in long stripes, moaning. "I could drink this all night."

Nala hung back a second, watching, then leaned in to lap at the base, tongue swirling over my balls before climbing the shaft. "Tastes like pure sex… w-wow."

I smiled. "Flattered."

Nala's eyes glittered, hungry. She sat back on her heels, fingers slipping between her thighs, rubbing slow circles over her clit. "Hey… can you guys do that thing you told me about?"

I raised a brow, cock twitching. "What thing?"

Tessa and Jasmine exchanged smirks. Without a word, Tessa shifted to the left of my dick, Jasmine to the right. They leaned in together, lips brushing the sides of my shaft—Tessa kissing the left, Jasmine the right, tongues flicking out in tandem. They worked in sync, sliding up and down, lips gliding over the sensitive skin, wet and warm. "Like this, baby?" Tessa murmured against me. "Kissing your cock like it's ours."

They moved higher, lips meeting at the tip in a slow, open-mouthed kiss, tongues tangling around the head, swapping spit and precum. Nala's breath hitched, fingers plunging into her pussy now, pumping fast. "Fuck… that's so hot."

Jasmine broke the kiss with a grin. "That's enough show for now." They dove back in—Tessa sucking the head, Jasmine licking the shaft, Kim and Nala tag-teaming the balls, tongues swirling, lips sucking.

"Can't get enough," Kim groaned, popping a ball free. "Your cum's like candy… I'm addicted."

The overload hit fast. Still sensitive from cumming twice, every lick shot lightning up my spine. My cock throbbed, veins pulsing. "Fuck… I'm close again…"

"Do it," Tessa urged, stroking the base. "Paint us, Evan. Cover our faces."

I gripped myself, jerking hard. The first rope shot across Tessa's cheek, thick and white. The second hit Jasmine's tongue as she opened wide. Kim leaned in, taking a spurt on her forehead, moaning. Nala tilted her head back, catching the last blasts across her chin and lips.

Jasmine moaned. "Yes… give us every drop."

I kept stroking, milking the last spurts, then rubbed the slick head across their faces one by one—Tessa's cheek, Jasmine's lips, Kim's nose, Nala's tongue. "Another round?" I smirked, voice rough.

╭────────────────────╮

- Sexual Activity Completed

==========================

Partner: Fivesome

EXP Gained: +317

Star Rating: 4.8 ★★★★

Reason: -

╰────────────────────╯

They grinned, cum-streaked and ready. What a fucking sight this was… and the best part? I finally leveled up.

╭────────────────────╮

- Evan Marlowe (Lvl 9)

==========================

- Age: 21

- Height: 180 cm

- Weight: 74 kg

==========================

- EXP: [█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒] 283/1562

╰────────────────────╯

❤︎‬‪‪❤︎‬‪‪❤︎

Even though I lived in a penthouse now, I was still broke as hell. The company pay was solid, sure, but it did nothing to cover the lifestyle the place pretended I belonged to. Small luxuries added up fast. On the bright side, Nala said the company would sort out a second car for us. One more key on the ring sounded like a luxury I could get used to.

I sat back in the restaurant chair and tried to breathe. The tux hugged me where it was supposed to hug, stiff and alien in places a T-shirt never was. How people wore this every night, I had no idea.

The restaurant looked like someone designed a rich person's daydream. Marble floors that reflected the chandeliers in soft gold, velvet booths, low glass partitions with orchids tucked behind them. Waiters moved in near-silent steps; men in tailored suits spoke in low tones; women in silk dresses flipped pages of menus like people who had all the time in the world. The air smelled faintly of lemon oil and something fermented and expensive.

A young waitress approached in a charcoal dress and white gloves, hair pulled back into a slick bun. "Welcome, sir," she said, voice polite and practiced. "Would you like to see the menu?"

"Nah," I said, forcing a smile. "Just a lemonade, please. And—can I smoke here?"

"Unfortunately not, sir."

"Hmm. Alright."

She left with a small, efficient curtsy. I watched her go and tried to stop thinking about how ridiculous I looked in borrowed elegance. Anotov had asked me to meet her here at five. You don't say no to that.

I dialed Delilah. One ring, two, three. No answer. I slid the phone back into my pocket and waited.

The lemonade arrived on a small silver tray, condensation beading on the glass. I lifted it, took a sip, and tried to still the knot in my stomach.

Then the doors opened.

Anotta stepped in like she owned the skyline. Her dress fit like armor—black silk cut to shape, coat draped over her shoulders, hair lacquered into a smooth wave. She carried a small purse like a trophy and wore the kind of calm that made people defer without meaning to. Heads turned. Conversations dipped into hush. She walked to the table with a slow pace of grace and paused in front of me.

"Welcome," I said, standing out of habit. "Ms. Anotov. We need to talk."

She didn't answer. Just stood there at the edge of the table, one hand clutching her small purse, the other lightly gripping her wrist. Her eyes were half-lidded, unreadable, fixed on me like she was waiting for something. For a second I thought she hadn't heard me.

"Um…" I asked, glancing around. "Am I in the wrong table? You said twenty-eight, right?"

She gave a tiny glance toward the empty chair across from me, then looked back at me, saying nothing. The silence stretched just long enough to make me uncomfortable. Then it clicked.

"Oh," I muttered, stepping aside. I walked around the table and pulled her chair out.

Only then did she move, the faintest smile touching her mouth, not gratitude exactly, more like acknowledgment that I'd finally caught up. She slid into the seat with slow grace, set her purse on the table, and crossed one leg over the other.

I went back to my chair and sat down, trying to shake off the weird sense that I'd just been tested.

"Alright," I said. "No time to waste. Ms. Anotov, we have a probl—"

"I'm hungry," she said suddenly, just as the waitress appeared beside her, as if summoned by thought alone.

"Yes, Ms. Anotov," The waitress said.

"I'll have the truffle kale salad," Anotov ordered smoothly, glancing up without losing her composed posture. "No dressing—just a touch of olive oil. And a glass of sparkling water, chilled."

The waitress nodded respectfully. "Of course, ma'am."

Anotov folded her hands neatly on the napkin, her gaze settling on me—precise, measuring. The look of someone about to appraise an investment.

"Ms. Anotov," I said. "I have a problem."

She let out a soft, amused sound. "Of course you do, Evan."

"Guy's not gone," I said. "He still has people working the back channels. A woman named Sarah showed up today—used to be close to him. She's demanding money in exchange for documents about the Meridian acquisition. Two million a month, or she leaks the files. We have to…"

"We?" she said suddenly, arching a brow. "Who is we, I wonder?"

"What do you mean, who is we?" I asked, frowning. "You helped me take down Guy Nolin."

"The company was supposed to suffer a heavy loss," she said smoothly, cutting me off. "Instead, you have a new CEO sitting comfortably in his chair. That wasn't the plan, Evan."

I blinked. "Yeah?"

She leaned back, crossing her legs with the composure of someone used to having other people's panic solved for profit. "You didn't listen to me. The plan was to expose Guy, let the market react, and then capitalize on the fallout. Public scandal, stocks dip, investors flee, and positions open up. I had already placed myself in the right spots to buy the rebounds. I was going to profit while the board scrambled."

"So this is about your portfolio," I said.

"This is about structure," she replied, cold and calm. "Shock changes things. It reshapes control. You handing him an out changed the whole arithmetic. You left a trail."

"I couldn't leave Nala like that," I said. "You know what he did to her. I wasn't about to destroy her life to line some pockets."

"Mm." She gave a small, almost bored nod. "You always did have a weakness for lost causes."

"Do you know anything about Meridian, Ms. Anotov?" I steered the conversation.

Her eyes tilted with faint curiosity. "Only whispers—Guy's pet project for predictive defense analytics, right?"

"Sarah says she has the files. She's demanding two million per month to keep quiet."

Anotov's lips twitched. "Ambitious."

"I don't know where to start," I admitted. "You've got connections—lawyers, cops, people. I thought you might know how to handle someone like her quietly."

Her gaze settled on me, unreadable. "Don't pay her," she said finally. "That's my only advice for you."

"Wow. Really?"

"When you asked me to set up that meeting with Guy," she began, locking eyes with me, "and told me you were going to beg to get your home back… I got sad. And honestly, I can't remember the last time I was that sad, Evan."

"What?" I blinked, not sure what to say.

"But then," she continued, lips curling into that dangerous smile, "you came out on top again. You took his penthouse. His company. His sister." She leaned in, the light catching her cleavage. "I like—no, I love watching you."

"You… huh?"

"You're the entertainment I didn't know I needed, Marlowe," she said softly. "Watching you climb over every obstacle—it's intoxicating. And I believe you can come out on top this time too. Defeating Guy's little lapdog, Sarah."

"Are you serious?" I asked.

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