reverse-harembreedingdubconpossessivedark-romance18+

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by @ekb96ekb

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1 chapters

~3 min read

Ruslan Volkov has a plan for Natasha: get her drunk, then share her with Marat and Mikhail. When she begs them to breed her deep, Ruslan watches as two men built like wrestlers pound her into orgasm after orgasm. He wakes to her moaning—Mikhail taking her from behind while she sucks Marat—and spends six days filming her narrow pussy stretched wide and full of their cum.

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MEET THE CHARACTERS

Ruslan Volkov

A 32-year-old man with a stocky, powerful build and calloused hands from years of manual labor. He has close-cropped dark hair, a thick beard, and pale skin with a network of faint scars across his knuckles. His eyes are a cold, calculating gray that warm only when watching Natasha — possessive, hungry, and utterly convinced of his plan.

Natasha Volkova

A 26-year-old woman with a soft, curvaceous body that she carries with unconscious confidence. She has long honey-blonde hair that falls past her shoulders, warm brown eyes, and full lips that part easily when she's aroused. Her skin is fair and marked with the faint flush of someone who burns hot and fast — every touch leaves a visible trace.

Marat Iskakov

A 35-year-old man built like a wrestler — thick neck, broad chest, arms corded with muscle. He has a shaved head, a short salt-and-pepper beard, and dark, heavy-lidded eyes that miss nothing. His hands are enormous, fingers thick and scarred, and he moves with the deliberate slowness of a man who knows his size intimidates.

Mikhail Fedorov

A 33-year-old man with a lean, wiry frame and ropelike muscle that speaks to a life of physical work. He has messy dark brown hair that falls over his forehead, a sharp jawline, and pale blue eyes that go predatory when he's aroused. A thin scar runs from his left eyebrow into his hairline — a souvenir from a fight he won.

EXPLORE CHAPTERS

The First Threshold

Natasha's head lolls against the couch cushion, the wine glass empty in her loose grip. Ruslan's calloused palm rides up her bare thigh, pushing the hem of her dress higher. He leans close, breath hot against her ear, and murmurs that his friends think she's beautiful — does she want to show them how good she feels? Her thighs part under his hand, and she nods, a slow, drunken smile spreading across her lips. Across the room, Marat sets down his glass, watching.

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