The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 357: Threesome with the Baroness and Matriarch

Back in the room, Jolthar looked at both women with calm assessment. They were both staring at him now, waiting for him to choose or mediate or somehow solve their conflict.

"If you both want me," he said slowly, "then you need to do as I tell you."

The room fell silent.

Both Cleora and Raayani looked at him with surprise. It wasn’t often that Jolthar asserted direct authority over either of them—they were both powerful women used to being in control of their own lives.

But there was something in his tone, in the directness of his statement, that made them both pause.

"What do you mean?" Cleora asked carefully.

"I mean exactly what I said. You’re both fighting over me like I’m some prize to be won.

That stops now.

If you want to be with me, if you want my attention and affection, then you accept that I won’t be divided by your arguments. You’ll both get what you need, but on my terms, not through competition with each other."

Raayani’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying him. "Your terms?"

"My terms," Jolthar confirmed.

"I care about both of you. I won’t choose between you, and I won’t tolerate you making each other miserable over me.

So either you agree to that, or we end this conversation now, and everyone sleeps alone tonight."

The challenge hung in the air.

Both women were strong personalities, used to getting what they wanted. Being told to submit to someone else’s direction wasn’t natural for either of them.

But they also both recognized the truth in what he was saying. Their constant competition was exhausting for everyone involved, including themselves.

Cleora was the first to speak.

"Fine. What do you want us to do?"

Raayani hesitated a moment longer, then nodded slowly.

"Agreed. But this had better be fair."

Jolthar smiled slightly.

"When have I ever been unfair to either of you?"

Neither woman could argue with that.

The silence that followed Jolthar’s command was profound, broken only by the frantic thrumming of three hearts.

Cleora and Raayani, two women who had spent weeks circling each other like rival lionesses, now found themselves frozen by the quiet authority in the young man’s voice.

It wasn’t a shout, nor a threat; it was a simple, unassailable declaration of fact. He was the calm center of their storm, and they were finally, truly, seeing him.

Cleora’s pride warred with a deeper, more primal understanding. As a mother, she knew the strength in yielding to a greater purpose for the good of the whole. Her eyes, usually sharp with defiance, softened with a reluctant surrender as she looked at Jolthar. She saw not just the handsome young man but the man who had held her through her nightmares, whose tenderness had been a balm on her disturbed soul.

With a slow, deliberate breath that lifted her proud breasts, she turned to Raayani. Her fingers, calloused from work, were surprisingly gentle as they rose to the ornate clasp of Raayani’s silken robe.

Raayani, the arrogant matriarch who used to commanding rooms with a glance, felt a shiver that was not entirely unpleasant.

To be ordered was an insult; to be seen through so completely was a terrifying thrill.

Her dark, kohl-rimmed eyes met Jolthar’s, and she saw no cruelty there, only a fierce, possessive love and an iron will.

When Cleora’s hands touched her, she flinched for a fraction of a second, then stilled. The silk whispered away from her shoulders, cool air kissing skin that hadn’t felt the touch of another woman in decades. The robe pooled at her feet, leaving her utterly exposed: her full, heavy breasts with their dark, erect nipples; the soft curve of her belly; the generous swell of her hips; and the neat, dark triangle of curls at their junction, already glistening with the evidence of her arousal.

In turn, Raayani’s hands, usually bedecked in rings of office, felt strangely light as she reached for Cleora’s practical tunic. She unfastened the leather ties with a meticulous slowness that felt like a ritual, peeling the rough-spun fabric away to reveal the warrior’s body beneath.

Cleora’s form was a map of her life: lean, powerful muscles; the pale silver lines of old scars across her ribs and flank; and the softer, more private marks of motherhood on her abdomen and the fuller curve of her hips.

Standing naked before each other, the differences between them were stark: Raayani’s opulent, cultivated beauty against Cleora’s weathered, earned strength. Yet in their shared vulnerability, a fragile bridge formed.

"Now," Jolthar murmured, his own voice husky as he discarded his tunic, revealing the taut, youthful musculature of his chest and the formidable erection straining against his trousers.

"Kiss. Not for me. Kiss because you are both mine, and what is mine should be in harmony."

Raayani was the first to bridge the final gap. She didn’t hesitate to follow Jolthar’s command. She seemed eager to obey him, like there was a pleasure in itself by following his orders.

Her hand, trembling slightly, cupped Cleora’s jaw, her thumb stroking the high cheekbone. She leaned in, and their lips met, a tentative, closed-mouth press.

But then Cleora’s arms came around her, pulling their bodies flush, and the kiss deepened.

It was not a battle for dominance, but an exploration.

It wasn’t new for both of them; they had been with women before they were with Jolthar. And he could see that they were just hating on each other so much that they didn’t see the attraction between them. And their desire for Jolthar had made them forget their positions.

Cleora’s tongue traced the seam of Raayani’s lips, seeking entry, and Raayani granted it with a soft sigh. Their tongues slid together, a slow, wet dance of discovery.

Cleora’s hands roamed down Raayani’s back, learning the soft, yielding flesh, before gripping her ample buttocks, kneading them firmly.

A low, throaty moan escaped Raayani, a sound of pure, surprised pleasure, as Cleora’s strong thigh insinuated itself between her legs, applying a delicious pressure to her swollen core.