Chapter 991: Results Of Three Strides (r-18)

Three strides. That’s all it took to reach the wide desk that had already witnessed her ruin once.

I set her down on the edge—

firm

—then stepped back half a pace just to

look

at her.

City skyline bled muted gold through the frosted windows behind her head.

The office was sealed, soundproofed, supposedly private—but the risk still crackled in the air like static: hallway cameras, assistants who might double-back for a forgotten tablet, the low electronic hum of security somewhere overhead.

One

wrong moan

too loud, and the sister of the Empress would be trending for all the wrong reasons tomorrow morning.

She didn’t give a fuck about

optics.

Sable planted both palms on the cool glass behind her hips, arched her spine like a drawn longbow, and dragged the cream silk

higher

.

Slow. Torturously slow.

The fabric gathered in thick, luxurious folds at her waist, unveiling long, trembling thighs—porcelain skin flushed deep rose, already glistening with a slick sheen of arousal that caught the amber light like someone had drizzled her in liquid diamonds.

Black lace panties came into view—filmy, sheer,

utterly fucking drenched

.

The crotch was glued to her swollen mound, outlining every obscene detail in high definition:

puffy

outer lips

parted just enough to show the dark, glistening shadow of her slit, clit visibly engorged and throbbing against the lace like it had its own pulse, a thick dark

wet spot

blooming wider with every shallow, shaky breath.

She shifted—thighs parting wider—and the panties pulled taut. Lace stretched thin enough that I could see the exact shape of her inner petals: dark pink, swollen, slick, quivering,

begging

to be peeled open.

I

dropped

to my knees between her spread legs like a man finally finding religion... she knew how much a worshipper I was when it came to

beauties’s

bodies... especially lower part.

Her pussy to be specific.

Her breath hitched—sharp, almost a sob at the anticipation alone.

I started low—soft, reverent kiss pressed to the tender inside of her knee... she shivered. Her body really shook from that only contact.

Her skin was fever-hot, silky, trembling under my lips. Moved higher—open-mouthed, sucking lightly, tasting salt and heat and the faint floral trace of whatever overpriced lotion she wore.

She shivered again, violently, thighs quivering on either side of my head like live wires about to snap.

Kissed again—higher—licked a slow, wet stripe along the soft inner curve, then sucked harder, pulling flesh into my mouth until it bloomed dark rose against pale skin.

Each mark felt like a signature; each pull dragged a fresh, helpless tremor out of her.

She moaned—low, broken

"

mmphhh...

"—fingers

diving

into my hair, clutching tight at the roots,

yanking

me closer like she needed my mouth branded into her DNA.

I went higher. Teeth grazed the sensitive crease where thigh met groin. I sucked—

hard

—drawing a deep, possessive oval into the tender skin that would bruise purple by morning, a secret brand she’d feel every time she crossed her legs in a boardroom tomorrow.

Her hips

jerked

forward on pure reflex as if to fuck my face; the scent of her pussy

slammed

into me harder than I was already had—sharp, musky, heady, thick with raw feminine need. I did not resist the smell of her already ripe pussy... I

inhaled

deep—nose brushing soaked lace—and groaned low against her thigh.

The smell was obscene—sweet-tangy arousal, hot and fertile, so potent my cock throbbed painfully against my zipper, pre-cum already leaking like I was the one being edged.

I dragged my nose across her pussy side to wide in long inhales... she lost the last thread of control.

"

Nnghhh... fuckkk...

" —voice cracking raw, hips rolling shamelessly forward. Her fingers tightened brutally in my hair—yanking, desperate—pulling my face flush against her covered cunt as she rolled her hips with my mouth and nose on her pussy.

I opened wide, sucked the drenched lace and swollen lips into my mouth at once—fabric and flesh together—tongue flattening

hard

against the outline of her clit through the thin barrier.

I could taste her immediately—salty-sweet, thick, viscous, arousal seeping steadily onto my tongue as I drew hard, cheeks hollowing with greedy suction.

She bucked—"

Hahhh... ahhhh...!

"—moans splintering into high, needy whimpers that bounced faintly off the glass walls.

The dress was useless now, bunched above her waist; she rose higher—squatting on the desk, feet planted wide on the glass, thighs splayed obscenely, ass hovering just above the surface.

Black panties stretched to breaking across her mound—lace so wet it was basically transparent, clinging to every fold. I could see

everything

: puffy outer lips parted wide, inner petals dark pink and swollen, glistening, clit pulsing visibly against the fabric like a second heartbeat.

A fresh

bead

of slick welled up and soaked through right in front of my eyes.

My hands gripped her bare thighs—dress no longer hiding a damn thing—fingers sinking deep into soft, quivering flesh. Skin scorching, slick with her own arousal that had trickled down in thin, shining rivulets.

I squeezed—

hard

—kneading upward until my palms cupped the bare undersides of her ass cheeks. No fabric.

Just hot, silky skin spilling between my fingers. Dug in deeper—spreading her wider—lifting her slightly so her dripping pussy pressed harder against my mouth.

Thumbs brushed the crease where thigh met ass, feeling muscle jump and quiver under my touch.

I sucked again—vicious, ravenous—drawing soaked lace and swollen clit fully into my mouth.

My tongue lashed frantically through the fabric, circling her clit in tight, relentless swirls. Her juices flooded my tongue in thick, warm pulses—addictive, tangy-sweet, coating my mouth, dripping down my chin.

I swallowed greedily, groaning deep into her cunt, vibrations rolling straight through her core like bass.

I squeezed her bare ass harder with both bare hands—fingers sinking so deep the flesh turned white around my grip—kneading roughly, spreading her cheeks wider, lifting her hips to grind her soaked pussy against my face in slow, filthy circles.

She rode my face shamelessly—hips rolling in desperate little figure-eights—moaning louder, wordless, broken—"

mmmmmhhh... nnghhh... hahhh...!

"

—each sound climbing higher, more frantic.

Thighs clamped around my ears, trembling violently; fingers yanked my hair so hard tears pricked my eyes from the sting. Fresh arousal gushed through the lace in hot waves—I sucked harder, tongue pressing the fabric deep into her slit, tasting every pulse, every fresh flood as she chased the edge against my mouth.

The glass desk creaked under her weight—faint,

ominous.

Somewhere down the hall, an elevator dinged like a warning shot.

The risk hung thick: one security sweep, one nosy assistant, one unlocked side door and this entire media empire would get front-row seats to the Empress’s sister

squatting

on her own desk, thighs spread wide, dripping, grinding her soaked cunt against a man’s face while he drank her down like communion wine.

She didn’t care.

Neither did I.

I inhaled deep one last time—nose buried against drenched lace, lungs full of her raw, musky scent—then sucked her clit through the panties again,

hard

and unrelenting, until her moans turned into shattered, pleading sobs and her whole body shook on the razor’s edge of breaking.