Read Novel Full Chapter 932: Rituals: Bold and Lustful Patt (r-18)
Chapter 932: Rituals: Bold and Lustful Patt (r-18)
She was wet. I could sense it, I could smell her wet pussy—feel the sudden rush of slick coating her folds, the way her inner walls clenched again, aching for something to fill them.
"I grew up in Orange County," she started, voice unsteady. Her fingers dug into my thigh now, nails biting through the wool like she needed the anchor. "Wealthy family. All the expectations. Law school at USC—fuck—" She broke off, eyes fluttering.
"How does touching you feel like that?"
This woman~
She did not play innocent and asked the anomaly she was feeling.
I smiled—slow, predatory—and let my hand slide to the back of her neck. My fingers tangled gently in her hair, thumb brushing the sensitive skin just below her ear.
She moaned—quiet, surprised, almost embarrassed by her own reaction.
"Like what?" I asked, innocent, knowing exactly what she meant.
"Like... I can’t..." Her sentence dissolved. Her hand on my thigh moved higher—bold now, cupping the heavy outline of my cock through my trousers, feeling the heat, the thickness, the slow throb. "I came here thinking I was in control."
I leaned closer until our mouths were less than an inch apart. My breath ghosted across her lips.
"You were never in control, Patt." My thumb stroked once along the nape of her neck—deliberate, possessive. "You just didn’t know it yet."
Her eyes fluttered shut. A tiny, helpless whimper escaped her throat.
The Lust Presence coiled tighter around her—slow, inexorable, turning every heartbeat into a pulse between her thighs.
She opened her eyes again—glassy, desperate.
She was panting slightly from the ghost of my touch that only blushed and never touched, her professional mask completely shattered. The cool, lawyer who probably had once stared down CEOs.
In her place sat a woman flushed crimson from throat to chest, lips swollen from biting them, eyes glassy with pure, animal need.
"What are you doing to me?" she whispered, voice cracking.
"Showing you what you asked for."
My other hand moved to her knee, sliding up slowly—deliberately—palms gliding over the silky, warm skin of her inner thigh. The moment my skin touched her bare thigh, she whimpered like I’d pressed a live wire to her clit.
{Oh god... his hand is so hot... so big... I can feel it burning straight through me...} Patt’s mind spun, I could hear her very well. {He’s barely touching me and I’m already wet. While his little girl sleeps ten feet away. I’m making a teenager dad abandon his fatherhood duties just to ruin me... and it’s turning me on so fucking much.}
The bold woman pulled her skirt up showing me more of her.
Her thighs—thick, juicy, perfectly soft were now very much reveled in the dim suite light—parted automatically for me. The dim glow from the city skyline painted them in gold and shadow, highlighting every lush curve, the faint sheen of sweat already gathering in the crease where thigh met hip.
She looked obscene already, skirt rucked high, legs spread just enough to show the dark, soaked patch of her panties clinging to her swollen folds.
I slid my hand higher... since she was this bold and wanting, there was no need to play passive.
Her hand shot down to mine—trembling but greedy—as if to stop me, but instead she was grabbing my wrist and pulling me further into the skin of her thighs higher. She ground my palm harder between her thighs, forcing my fingers to go higher until my fingers pressed against the soaked lace, then dragged me deeper until my fingertips brushed the edge of her soaked panties.
"More, Eros, do not tease me, I want this," she breathed, voice husky and broken. "Please... I need—"
{Fuck... his fingers are so long... if just his hand feels like this, what’s that cock going to do to me? It feels and look massive through his pants... thick, heavy... God, can it even fit? I’m so wet already I’m dripping down my ass, is it because of three years without a good cock inside me...? I want it to split me open while his daughter sleeps right there... I want him to fuck me so hard I can’t walk tomorrow and still have to smile at breakfast like nothing happened...}
"Oh god," she moaned aloud, thighs quivering around my fingers, pushing her thighs forward. "I’m—I can feel—how are you—"
She couldn’t finish. Couldn’t understand why every inch of skin I touched felt like slow, wet tongue strokes directly on her clit. Why her nipples ached so badly they hurt. Why her pussy was clenching rhythmically around nothing, leaking fresh slick in hot pulses that soaked her panties completely through.
"I still can’t believe I’m doing this," she gasped, trying to cling to some last shred of dignity even as her hips rolled shamelessly against my hand. "I’m sitting here getting soaked for a teenager who threatened the agency I work for this afternoon... while his daughter is sleeping ten feet away... fuck, that’s so wrong... and it’s making me even wetter..."
I chuckled low, dark, letting my hand slide higher until my fingers traced the soaked gusset of her panties feeling the warm wetness of her juices. "I had no choice. When it comes to my women, I’ll destroy anyone. Burn down empires if that’s what it takes."
"Your women," she repeated, voice shaking. Her free hand boldly cupped the massive bulge in my trousers, squeezing the thick, heavy length through the fabric. Her eyes widened in genuine shock. {Jesus Christ... it’s huge... thicker than my wrist... the head feels like it’s going to split me in half... I don’t know if I can take it... but I need to try... I need him to force it inside me while Rory sleeps...}
"Oh fuck... you’re huge," she whimpered, thumb rubbing frantically over the swollen crown through his pants. "How is that even going to fit?"
"Does it matter?" My fingers hooked under the edge of her panties — black lace, soaked through, clinging transparently to every swollen curve of her pussy— and pulled the fabric aside with deliberate slowness.
The moment the cool air of the suite kissed her exposed pussy, Patt moaned helplessly — a low, shattered sound that vibrated in her throat.
Her cunt was a glistening, lonely, desperate thing. The outer lips — plump, flushed deep rose from hours of building arousal — had parted naturally now, swollen and puffy, framing the long, ruffled inner folds that shone dark crimson under the dim golden light.
They trembled visibly, slick with her own cream, the delicate petals fluttering open and closed in tiny, needy spasms like a mouth gasping for air.
At the center, her entrance — small, tight, untouched for far too long it was begging me— winked open and shut in frantic little pulses, pushing out fresh beads of thick, glossy slick that gathered at the rim before sliding down in slow, shiny trails toward her perineum.
The wetness was obscene: a steady trickle leaking from her lonely hole, pooling beneath her on the leather chair in a dark, spreading stain. Her clit stood rigid and engorged above it all — dark cherry, protruding shamelessly beyond its hood, throbbing visibly with every heartbeat, untouched yet hypersensitive, jumping once when the air brushed it.
It looked achingly empty — beautiful and ruined at the same time — a pussy that had been teased and denied for too long, now quivering in the open air like it was begging to be filled, stretched, claimed.
I let her feel the exposure for a long heartbeat — the shame and thrill of being so completely bared while Rory slept peacefully ten feet away.
She lifted her hips, helping me, grinding her soaked folds shamelessly against my fingertips. "This is just—"
"It’s not."
I slipped one finger barely inside her — only the tip, nothing more.
The instant my fingertip breached her entrance, her walls clamped down my fingers like a vice — hot, velvety, fluttering wildly around the single digit as though trying to drag me deeper.
Her pussy felt molten — fever-hot, slick beyond reason, the inner walls rippling in frantic contractions that milked my finger like a living thing. Every tiny flutter sent fresh gushes of cream flooding around my knuckle, soaking my hand, dripping in thick rivulets down her juicy inner thighs and pooling beneath her ass on the leather.
I ignited my Touch as I rubbed her G-spot.
She came.
Hard.
"AHHH—FUCK—EROS—!" Her back arched violently off the chair, spine bowing so sharply only her shoulders and heels stayed in contact. Thighs clamped around my wrist like iron, quivering uncontrollably as the orgasm tore through her from almost nothing.
Hot, gushing slick exploded around my finger — forceful jets that sprayed my palm, her thighs, the chair in messy arcs. Her pussy spasmed visibly — entrance winking open and closed in brutal rhythm, inner walls rippling in powerful, rhythmic waves that tried to suck my finger deeper even as she convulsed.
Her clit throbbed untouched above it all — swollen dark and desperate, jumping with every wave of pleasure that crashed through her denied core.
She screamed his name like a prayer and a curse — voice hoarse, echoing through the quiet suite — while tears of overwhelming bliss streamed down her cheeks. Her whole body shook, breasts heaving, nipples straining against her blouse, thighs trembling violently around my arm.
When she finally collapsed back — gasping, chest rising and falling in ragged bursts, eyes wide with shocked, euphoric disbelief — tears clinging to her lashes like diamonds, I leaned in close.
"That’s exactly why you came here tonight," I murmured against her trembling lips, voice low and dark. "Now let me show you the rest."
Her voice was barely a whisper — hoarse, ruined, utterly surrendered:
"Please... fuck me while she sleeps... fuck me before your girls come back."
Her pussy — still fluttering around the tip of my finger — clenched once more at her own words, pushing out another thick bead of slick that dripped slowly down my knuckle.