Lady Ashford's gaze followed him as he stepped over the discarded clothing, her chest heaving as she took in the sight of the cum-soaked floor. The sticky residue was a testament to the intensity of their encounter, a visual representation of the raw lust that had consumed them all. The warm, musky scent of sex clung to everything, turning the tent into a den of iniquity.
The cool night air outside washed over Theo's sweat-slicked skin, and he took a deep breath, trying to clear his head. The jeya soup had left him feeling both invigorated and drained, his body humming with the aftermath of so much pleasure. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for using the maids so roughly, for losing himself in the heat of the moment. But the sight of their satisfied faces and the memory of their eager cries was like a siren's song, making him feel both powerful and ashamed.
