Two hours later, the shoot was over.

Four memory cards brimming with pure, unfiltered nudes of two Paradise princesses. Hundreds of frames that would ruin any lesser man on first viewing. Every room of the penthouse defiled by naked skin, golden light, and poses so explicit they'd make professional porn look tame.

Phei set the heavy camera on the nightstand with a soft thud. His hands weren't steady anymore. They trembled—fine, almost imperceptible—because he'd spent the last two hours hard as steel, leaking, denied, watching the two women he wanted most in the world right now offer themselves up to his lens like living fantasies.

His sweatpants were a lost cause. The grey fabric was dark and clinging at the front, the thick outline of his cock obscene and unmistakable, a steady bead of pre-come still seeping through the cotton.

He hadn't come once.

Not even close.

And now both of them were staring at that wet stain like it was prey.

Sierra lounged against the pillows, thighs carelessly parted, heavy tits rising and falling with slow breaths. Her cunt was flushed deep rose, lips glossy and parted, wet beneath the silk. Maddie stood at the foot of the bed—naked, flushed from collarbone to cheeks, pink nipples tight, smooth pussy visibly swollen and dripping down her inner thighs.

She couldn't stop shifting her weight, like the ache between her legs was too much to bear.

The air in the room was thick, electric, inevitable.

Sierra moved first.

She rose from the bed with that lethal grace, walked to the tripod, and mounted the main camera. Adjusted the height until it pointed directly at the center of the mattress. Hit record. Red light steady.

Then her phone—propped on the dresser for a wide side angle.

Then Maddie's phone on the nightstand, tilted down to catch every expression, every tear, every gasp from pillow level.

Multiple angles. No escape. Everything documented.

Phei watched her, throat dry. "What are you doing?"

Sierra didn't look up. "Just making sure we capture it right."

"Capture what?"

She finally met his eyes—ice queen mask gone, something fierce and tender in its place.

"Maddie's been waiting for this moment for the last entire week, honey. Literally." she said quietly. "Not the games. Not the competition with me. You. She's loved you longer than she'll ever admit out loud. And tonight, she's giving you the one thing she's never given anyone else. She's going to want to watch it again. And again. And probably again after that."

"That's… thorough." He chuckled watching the always confident Maddie now act shyly now that the awaited moment had come... because words and desire aside, she was still a virgin.

"That's love, Dragon." Sierra finally met his eyes, the usual sharp ice softened into something raw and unguarded. "She's been competing with me for days now. Fighting for your attention. Playing games. Acting like it was all chaos and teasing. But this?"

She gestured at the blinking red lights of the cameras, at the rumpled midnight silk bed, at Maddie standing frozen just inside the doorway, naked and trembling. "This isn't about competition anymore. Not for her. Maybe it never really was."

Sierra stepped back from the tripod, gave the framing one last critical glance, then nodded—satisfied.

"She loves you," she said quietly, voice low enough that only Phei could hear. "Actually loves you. Not the game. Not the thrill. You. And right now she's terrified you'll see how much. So don't fuck this up."

Phei knew, always known.

She brushed past him, fingers squeezing his arm once—firm, reassuring—then settled into the velvet armchair in the corner. Legs crossed, body relaxed, but her eyes never left them. Audience. Witness. Guardian.

Leaving Phei alone with Maddie.

The room felt suddenly smaller, the air thick and charged. Maddie hadn't moved. Her arms were wrapped loosely around her waist, shoulders curved inward, trying to make herself not feel nervous than she already was even as her bare skin flushed hot under his gaze.

The wild, fearless energy that usually crackled around her was gone. In its place was something fragile and trembling—eyes wide, lips parted, breath coming in shallow, uneven pulls.

The Demoness of Chaos was silent.

That should have been the first warning sign.

Maddie was never silent. She was a hurricane in human form—constant motion, constant noise, a whirlwind of laughter and teasing and breathless commentary that filled every inch of space around her.

She narrated movies, moaned encouragement during other people's sex, turned quiet moments into fireworks because stillness terrified her.

But now?

Now she stood naked in the bedroom, skin flushed rose-gold in the low light, and didn't make a sound.

Her bravado had shattered.

Phei saw it instantly: arms hovering like she wanted to cover herself but didn't know where to start, shoulders curved inward, thighs pressed together in a futile attempt to hide the thick shine of arousal already coating them.

Her eyes—those wild, bright chaos eyes—darted from him to the bed to the blinking red lights of the cameras, calculating, panicking, pleading all at once.

This was the girl who'd stripped in front of floor-to-ceiling windows without a flicker of hesitation. Who'd spread her legs wide and demanded he photograph every inch of her dripping cunt. Who'd bounced naked on silk sheets, tits flying, laughing like the world was her playground.

That girl was gone.

In her place stood the real Maddie. Innocent to her own sex. Young. Stripped bare in every way that mattered.

The virgin.

Not the performance—the white lace, the ironic innocence. The actual, trembling truth: no one had ever been inside her. No one had ever seen her like this—desperate, open, terrified of being wanted too much.

She'd been waiting her whole life for someone worthy.

And now he was here.

"Maddie," Phei said, soft. Just her name. No command. No dominance. Just acknowledgment.

She looked up. Eyes wide, glassy, raw.

"I've never…" She swallowed hard. "You're the first person who's ever seen all of me. Not just naked—anyone can get naked. The… the wanting. The needing. The part that's been obsessed with you since the day I pulled you in that room. I hate it. I don't do this. I don't fall. I make people fall and then I run before they can process."

He did not interrupt her. Her voice cracked like thin ice.

"It started as a game against Sierra. I swear. I wanted to win you from her. Prove I could take anything she had. But then—" A shaky breath. Tears welled, spilled over. "—somewhere it stopped being a game. When you looked at me like I mattered while I crashed in your penthouse. When you didn't just take what I kept throwing at you but embraced me... my whole me that people find annoying, sick, spoilt brat and other mean things. When you called me perfect and meant it."

She was crying now, quiet and fierce.

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