And indeed, that was exactly what Riley did.
Once his wives had shown him the intoxicating pleasure of taking all of them at once—limbs entangled, bodies glistening, voices overlapping in waves of ecstasy—something inside him had snapped.
Or perhaps awakened. He was no longer a man merely indulging in desire; he was a force of nature, unbound and insatiable.
Every night, he returned to them like a storm rolling in—unpredictable, all-consuming, and impossible to resist.
"Ahhhh…"
"Ohhh gods…"
"Mmmhh—Riley!"
His ten wives moaned with abandon, their voices echoing like a symphony of bliss throughout the palace chambers.
Sheets tangled, skin flushed, and the scent of passion hung thick in the air as Riley moved from one woman to the next with relentless hunger.
He showed no favoritism—every wife, whether shy and gentle or wild and bold, received his full, undivided attention.
He worshipped their bodies and ravished their souls, never stopping until they were utterly spent.
