Milf Hunter: Seducing And Taming Beauties

Chapter 641: Pregnant MILF - Emily’s Sister

Emily’s chuckle was a razor, dripping with the kind of mocking sweetness that made my fingers itch to ruin her. "Ha... ooo..." She cooed, her hand patting my cheek like I was some obedient little pet, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "My little boy is a momma lover..."

Something dark and feral uncoiled in my chest.

My hand shot up, seizing the front of her dress—yanking her forward until her breasts spilled over the neckline, heavy, ripe, the lace of her bra barely containing them. Then my fingers found her nipples, pinching—hard.

"Aaaaaah—!" The sound tore from her, raw, broken, her back arching off the seat. "D-Don’t—!"

"Shut up." My voice was a whip-crack, my fingers twisting, rolling, pulling until the buds were hard as pebbles, dark red with blood and need. "You want to talk, Oka-san?" I leaned in, my lips brushing the shell of her ear, my teeth grazing the sensitive skin beneath. "Then say something worth hearing."

She gasped, her body trembling, her hands flying to shove at my chest—but I caught her wrists. "Or is this all you’ve got?" My thumb flicked her nipple again, watching as her eyes watered, her lips parting on a whimper.

"A-Ah...! N-No, it’s—" Her voice cracked, her hips squirming in the seat, her thighs pressing together like she could stifle the ache between them.

"It’s true..." She panted, her tongue darting out to wet her lips, her gaze dropping to my mouth. "You are a momma’s boy..." Her laugh was breathy, broken, but her eyes burned with victory.

"That’s why you came too quick inside that bitch Jasmine." Her voice dropped, low, venomous. "Even My virgin asshole... didn’t get that..." She leaned in, her lips brushing my jaw, her tongue tracing the pulse in my throat. "Now I know why..."

My grip on her wrists tightened, my nails digging into her skin until I knew there’d be crescents left behind. "You know?" I growled, my free hand shoving up her skirt, my fingers finding the soaked lace of her panties—ripping them aside.

"AH! F-FUCK—!" Emily’s cry was raw, broken, her head snapping back against the headrest, her spine arching like a bowstring pulled taut. Her pussy clenched around my fingers so hard I could feel her pulse, her walls fluttering like she was already on the edge. "Y-Yes! I know—!"

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving, her nipples still hard and aching from where I’d pinched them. Then—her body went stiff, her eyes snapping open, wide and wild.

"Hmm..." Her voice was a velvet blade, low and mocking, but beneath the sarcasm I caught it—the flicker of something sharp, nervous. Like a predator realizing she’d just stepped into a trap of her own making.

"Stop." Her hand shot down, gripping my wrist with surprising force, her fingers digging into my skin like claws. The car slowed, the engine purring beneath us like a cat toying with its prey. Her thighs snapped shut, her voice dropping to a hiss, venomous and sweet: "We’re already at my sister’s place..."

I followed her gaze out the window, past the wrought-iron gates, past the manicured hedges, to the sprawling villas bathed in the golden haze of the setting sun. Texas. Rich. Isolated.

Perfect.

I pulled my fingers back, slow, deliberate, licking the glistening arousal from them with a leisurely smirk.

She shoved my hand away, her lips curling into something feral. "So behave."

I leaned back, watching her, amused. "Or what, Oka-san?"

Her smile was a knife. "Or you’ll find out what happens to bad boys who don’t listen."

I chuckled, low, dark, but I didn’t push. Not yet.

The car didn’t stop.

One minute. Five. Ten.

I glanced at the dashboard clock, then at Emily, her knuckles white on the wheel, her smile too wide, too sharp.

"Emily." My voice was a warning.

She laughed, the sound high, almost hysterical, as the car turned down a private drive, the gates closing behind us with a final, metallic clang. "This time it’s really here..." Her gaze flicked to mine, gleaming with triumph. "Ha. Haa. Haa."

The villa loomed ahead, all white stone and dark windows, like a mausoleum waiting to swallow us whole.

I exhaled, slow, controlled, my fingers flexing against my thigh.

Clever girl.

"You tricked me." My voice was calm, almost admiring.

The engine died with a final, shuddering sigh, the sudden silence so deafening it felt like the world had stopped breathing. Emily’s grin was all teeth, wild and unrepentant, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of the hunt. "And you fell for it."

Her hand dropped to my thigh, squeezing, her nails digging in through the fabric of my pants—not quite pain, not quite pleasure, but something electric that shot straight to my cock. I didn’t flinch. Didn’t react. Just watched her, amused, waiting.

Then she moved—fast, like a cat, slipping out of the car before I could stop her. I followed, my fingers closing around her wrist in one smooth motion, twisting just enough to make her hiss, her body arching back into mine.

"Careful, Emily." My lips brushed her ear, my voice a purr, a promise, a threat. "You’re not the only one who plays games."

She shivered, but her smirk didn’t waver. "We’ll see about—"

"Emily..." A voice, smooth as honey, rich as sin, cut through the tension between us. "You naughty girl... what are you doing here...?" A pause. "And who is this?"

Emily’s body went still, then melted, her voice shifting in an instant—no more venom, no more bite, just sweet, girlish delight. "Sister...!" She pulled free of my grip, running toward the figure standing in the doorway, her arms outstretched. "I missed you... so much..."

I turned.

And fuck.

The woman standing there was every fantasy I’d ever had wrapped in satin and sin. Same age as Emily, maybe a few years older—mature in a way that made my mouth water.

Her body was all curves, soft and ripe, the red silk dress she wore clinging to her like a second skin, the fabric stretched tight over her huge, round belly—seven, eight months pregnant, the swell of it obscene, beautiful, making my cock throb just from looking.

The dress dipped low between her breasts, the cleavage deep, inviting, her skin milky white against the dark red. The skirt split high up her thighs, revealing a creamy expanse of skin that begged to be touched, bitten, and marked. Her hair was dark, loose, falling in waves down her back, and her lips—fuck, her lips—were painted the same red as her dress, full, parted just enough to tease.

She smiled, slow, knowing, her gaze raking over me like a physical touch. "Well?" Her voice was a purr, low, amused. "Are you going to introduce us, Emily?"