Lana's vision was a far cry from the amateur "hey-look-at-me" setups we usually ran. This wasn't just porn; it was high-end erotic cinema.

​"Music!" Lana barked, snapping her fingers.

​A low, heavy bassline began to thrum through the studio speakers—a slow, hypnotic beat that felt like a heartbeat. The lights dimmed, leaving only soft, amber halos around Sasha and Jess.

​"Tease it," Lana's voice drifted through the darkness, smoky and commanding. "Don't just take it off. Make the camera beg for it."

​The girls were transformed. Under Lana's gaze, they performed. They moved with the rhythm, eyes locked on the lens, fingers tracing the lace of their lingerie as if it were a lover's skin. Slow, agonizingly seductive movements. They peeled away their clothes, bit by bit, tossing them into the shadows until they stood glowing and bare under the warm lights.

​Then came the internal focus. Lana directed them to touch themselves, to explore their own bodies with a hunger that looked terrifyingly real. Sasha slid her fingers down, her breath hitching, before bringing them to her lips, tasting herself with a slow flick of her tongue. Jess followed, her eyes half-closed in a trance-like state.

​"Now, find each other," Lana whispered.

​They came together like two magnets, their lips meeting in a deep, desperate kiss while their hands worked in a rhythmic, coordinated dance between each other's thighs. The air in the studio grew thick, the silence of the crew heavy with a tension I hadn't felt on set before.

​Even Abigail, standing off to the side, looked transfixed. Her jaw was tight, her eyes glued to the monitor, her professional mask finally showing a few more cracks.

​Suddenly, the music cut out. The silence was deafening.

​"That's your cue, Hart," Lana said, her eyes glinting in the dark. "Walk in. Show them why you're the boss."

​I stepped out from behind the curtain, the cool air of the studio hitting my bare chest. The girls looked up, their faces flushed, their eyes wide and "starving" just as Lana had demanded. I didn't say a word. I just walked into the center of their tangled limbs, the dominant force they had been waiting for.

​Lana leaned back in her chair, a smirk playing on her lips. "Action," she breathed.

--------------

I stepped into the light, breaking the circuit between them. The air was heavy with the smell of latex, perfume, and the mounting heat of the studio. I reached out and caught Sasha, pulling her away from Jess with a firm, possessive tug. She let out a soft, melodic giggle, her body pliant and warm as I gripped her chin, tilting her face up to meet mine.

​When I crushed my mouth against hers, it wasn't a screen kiss—it was an invasion. Her lips were soft, slick with gloss and the taste of Jess, but as I deepened the pressure, she leaned into me, her tongue flickering against mine in a desperate, frantic rhythm. I could feel the vibration of her low moan in my own chest, the heat of her breath ghosting over my skin.

​I broke away, the thread of saliva glistening for a second before I turned my focus to Jess.

​The studio seemed to shrink until it was just the two of us. This was the girl from the gym, the one who had been haunting my workouts for weeks. She stood there, her chest heaving, those fake tits rising and falling in a rhythmic tease. The "naughty" spark in her eyes had sharpened into a predatory hunger. She wasn't just acting for Lana anymore; she was looking at me like she wanted to devour me.

​I reached out, my palm flat against her abdomen. Her skin was velvet-hot and damp with sweat. I dragged my hand upward, a slow, agonizing crawl that took me over the curve of her ribs until my thumb brushed against the underside of her breast. She gasped, her entire body shuddering with an anticipation so thick I could practically taste it.

​I leaned in, my shadow falling over her face. She tilted her head, her lips parting, her eyes fluttering shut as she prepared for the impact of my mouth on hers. I could see the slight tremor in her jaw, the way her breath came in short, jagged bursts.

​But just as our lips were about to touch, I stopped.

​I pulled back an inch, hovering in the space between us, letting her feel the heat of my breath without the release of the kiss. She let out a frustrated whimper, her mouth hanging open, searching for me in the air. She was a wire pulled taut, begging for the connection to be made.

​I let a slow, dark grin spread across my face, relishing the power I held over her in front of the cameras—and in front of Abigail. Then, I stopped the teasing and leaned in, finally giving her what she was starving for, claiming her mouth with a force that sent her reeling back into the pillows.

​"Yes," I heard Lana's voice hum from the darkness of the monitors. "That's the hunger. Don't stop."

The energy on the set shifted from calculated performance to something raw and uncontrollable. We were a tangle of limbs and heat in the center of the stage. I moved between them, my mouth finding Sasha's neck before sliding down to the heavy swell of her breasts, my tongue tracing the curve of her skin until she was arching her back, her fingers locked in my hair.

I did the same with Jess, savoring the firm, surgical perfection of her chest, feeling her heart hammering against my palm like a trapped bird.

​"Kiss her," I commanded, my voice thick. "I want to watch you two again."

​They didn't hesitate. They came together, their mouths meeting in a frantic, wet exchange that made my own blood roar in my ears. Watching them lose themselves in each other—the soft curves of their bodies pressed tight—was the ultimate aphrodisiac.

I stepped in, pulling them both toward me, and we merged into a three-way kiss. It was a chaotic, intoxicating blur of tongues, the scent of their different perfumes, and the sound of shared, desperate breaths.

​The heat in the room was stifling, but none of us cared.

​Suddenly, Jess broke away, her eyes dark with a singular focus. She dropped to her knees, her movements fluid and practiced, her gaze never leaving mine. She reached out, her cool fingers wrapping around my cock, which was already straining, rock-hard and pulsing.

​"God, Druski," she whispered, her voice a low, breathy rasp that carried through the silent studio. She ran her thumb over the head, her eyes widening as she took in the full scale of me. "You're huge. You're even better than I imagined back at the gym."

​She didn't wait for a response. She began to jerk me, her grip firm and rhythmic, her eyes locked on mine with an expression of pure, unadulterated worship. I leaned back, my hands finding Sasha's hips for support, my head tossing back as the first wave of pure electricity shot up my spine.

​From the shadows, I could hear Lana's voice, sharp and satisfied. "Keep going, Jess. Don't let him catch his breath. Camera two, get in tight on that grip. I want to see every vein."

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