One Last Stop

After subduing the Queen of Jokes, Michael spent the night with Brinna, spoke with Odette, and tasked her with getting rid of Black Mask—a feat easily accomplished with the help of the former villainesses.

Inside Michael’s mansion, the atmosphere was one of decadent, sensual luxury. He lay back against silk sheets, feeling a sense of weightless ease. At his feet, Bari worked with superhuman agility. Her lips enveloped Michael’s member in a frenetic rhythm, her tongue moving with an electric precision that would make any ordinary man swoon with pleasure.

The bedroom door slammed open with a dry click. A figure dressed in a butler's uniform entered—Waylena Jones. She had transformed from her crocodile form into a black woman of raw, breathtaking beauty; her eyes devoured the master of the house.

"Sir, your luggage is ready," Waylena announced, her voice now soft yet deep.

Michael smiled, gazing at the servant. The contrast between Bari’s vibrant agility and Waylena’s silent, raw power was arousing.

"Very well. Why don't you join Bari?" he ordered, his voice heavy with unquestionable authority.

Waylena needed no second invitation. With a fluid motion, she stripped off the butler’s uniform, revealing powerful curves and thick thighs that promised a crushing, intense embrace. She knelt beside Bari. For a moment, the two women locked eyes—a silent pact of cooperation to satisfy the God of that house.

Michael closed his eyes as he felt the alternating sensations: Bari’s rapid, energetic suction and Waylena’s broad, exploring tongue. It was a feast of oral pleasure, a coordinated assault on his nerves that made his back arch. The pleasure was almost unbearable, an electric jolt racing down his spine.

"Now," he commanded, catching his breath, "Bari, go tell Halie Jordan to ready the private jet. I want to leave for Themyscira soon."

Bari obeyed, vanishing from the room in the blink of an eye—but not before casting a hungry glance back, as if memorizing every detail of the scene for later.

Now, only Waylena remained. She wasted no time. She climbed onto him with impressive agility, riding him with short, rapid movements, her breasts swaying as she let out soft, high-pitched moans. Michael held her by the hips, feeling her muscles quiver with every impact.

He flipped her over forcefully, pinning her back against the mattress in the missionary position. He wanted to see her eyes as he took her. Waylena wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, desperate to feel every inch of that incredible cock.

"You... you're amazing," she whispered as Michael quickened the pace, turning the room into a whirlwind of lust.

The climax hit like a supernova. Michael roared, filling the girl with his essence, while Waylena screamed, feeling waves of pleasure that seemed to break the sound barrier.

Minutes later, catching his breath, Michael stared up at the ceiling. The Amazons were waiting for him. He could picture the warriors of Themyscira—with their bronze armor and unshakeable pride—awaiting the return of their king.

With a predatory smile, he rose to his feet. The world was his playground, and he was just beginning to play.

"What changes have taken place on my island," he thought.