Milf Hunter: Seducing And Taming Beauties

Chapter 580: End of Yuko’s Dream

The friction was maddening, her breath coming in sharp gasps as she rocked against me, her nails digging into my shoulders. "Feel that?" she taunted, her voice a dark, possessive purr. "Feel how wet I am for you? How desperate I am to have this fat cock inside me?"

I groaned, my hands gripping her hips, my thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of her ass. "Yuko—"

"Shut up," she snapped, her voice sharp with command. "You don’t get to talk. You don’t get to think. You’re mine right now, Jack. And I’m going to ride this cock until you forget your own name."

Then, suddenly, she stopped grinding.

Her fingers hooked into the fabric of her panties, dragging them aside to reveal her pussy—glistening, swollen, covered in a thick, dark thatch of pubic hair she’d never bothered to shave.

The lips were plump, already slick with arousal, the scent of her musk thick and intoxicating. "Look at me," she demanded, her voice a dark, possessive growl. "Look at this pussy, Jack. It’s yours. But only because I say it is."

She aligned my cock to her entrance, the head pressing against her folds, her wetness coating the tip. Her eyes locked onto mine, dark and burning with something primal. "I love you, Jack," she whispered, her voice trembling—not with fear this time, but with need.

My body screamed for her. Every nerve was alight, every muscle coiled tight with need. I wanted her—God, I wanted her—wanted to flip her onto her back, pin her wrists above her head, and sink into her until neither of us could tell where one ended and the other began. Wanted to hear her gasp my name, feel her body clench around me, lose myself in the heat of her. But not like this.

This wasn’t her.

In this dream, I was fucking nothing but empty air, chasing a phantom of pleasure that would vanish the second I woke. My cock was buried in an illusion, my hands gripping hips that weren’t really hers, my lips craving kisses that would dissolve like smoke.

But this wasn’t her—not my Yuko. Not with her mind warped into something ravenous, her love honed into a blade that could flay as easily as it embraced. I refused to take her like this, a hollow echo of the woman who’d sworn herself to me.

So I tore the dream apart.

A pulse of Telepathy sent Yuko spiraling into deep, untroubled sleep—her body slack, her breath evening out as the illusion dissolved. Then my eyes flew open, and reality struck like a dive into icy water.

The bed beneath me was unyielding, the sheets whispering against my skin, the air thick with the scent of home—lavender and the faint, honeyed ghost of Yuko’s bedtime tea. I dragged in a shuddering breath, my pulse still a wild drumbeat in my ears, my body aching with the ghost of what I’d almost done.

My eyes opened.

And there she was—Yuko.

Curled in the reclining chair beside the bed, her body surrendered to sleep. One arm draped lazily over the armrest, her fingers still faintly curled, as if she’d been reaching for me before exhaustion claimed her. Her chest rose and fell in a slow, untroubled rhythm, her face softened by the kind of peace she only ever showed when she thought no one was watching.

With a thought, I guided her—Telekinesis wrapping around her like an invisible embrace—and settled her beside me, pulling the sheets over her shoulders. The bed dipped slightly under her weight, the scent of lavender and warm tea clinging to her hair as I tucked her in.

Then I slipped away, lowering myself into the recliner she’d just vacated. I exhaled, checking the time.

The glow of my phone screen cut through the dim room, the time staring back at me like an accusation.

Ten minutes ago. Haruna’s message sat there, unanswered, her words laced with that familiar mix of concern and curiosity: "Jack... where are you? Sister didn’t blame you, did she?" I could almost hear the hesitation in her voice, the way she’d bite her lip if she were here, waiting for me to decide how much to reveal.

But my attention wasn’t on the words—not entirely. My cock throbbed, still painfully hard from the dream, the memory of Yuko’s body moving against mine like a fever I couldn’t shake.

The way her hips had rolled, the way her breath had hitched—it was all still there, burned into my skin, my pulse thrumming with the ghost of it. I needed release, needed something to ground me back in reality.

My fingers moved over the screen, typing out a response with deliberate slowness, each word a carefully placed lure: "I’m fine, but your sister has taken me to the guest room... and she’s here keeping an eye on me."

The reply came almost instantly, Haruna’s shock palpable even through the text: "What? Wait... I’m coming there."

I set the phone down on the armrest, the screen still glowing as I leaned back in the recliner, my body coiled with anticipation. The seconds stretched, thick with the weight of what was coming.

Then—there it was. The faint creak of the door hinges, the soft rustle of fabric as Haruna’s head peeked through the crack, her wide eyes scanning the room before landing on me.

I turned to look at her, my gaze slow and deliberate, letting her see the hunger still burning in my eyes—raw, unchecked, and entirely focused on her. Haruna froze for a heartbeat, her breath hitching as she took in the scene: Yuko asleep in the bed, her body curled beneath the sheets, completely oblivious to the tension thickening the air.

Haruna slipped into the room with the quiet grace of someone used to moving unseen, her steps light as she crossed the floor toward me. Her voice was barely above a whisper, thick with anticipation: "Jack... let’s go. Sister is asleep. Come to my room..."

But I wasn’t in the mood to wait.

In one swift motion, I grabbed her wrist and yanked her forward, pulling her down onto my lap. The second her ass hit my thighs, she felt it—my cock, rock-hard and throbbing, pressing against her through my pants.

A choked gasp tore from her lips, her eyes flying wide as she realized just how bad I wanted her. She slapped a hand over her mouth, her fingers trembling as she tried to stifle the sound, her blush deepening to a furious crimson.

"J-Jack—!" she whimpered against her palm, her body tensing as she squirmed, trying to shift away—but there was nowhere to go.

My grip on her hip tightened, holding her in place, grinding her down just enough to let her feel the full, thick length of me. Her breath came in sharp, desperate little pants, her thighs clenching together as she fought the instinct to moan.