10x God-Tier Stealing System: Pumping S-Rank SuperHeroines Daily!-Chapter 106- A Lie of Marriage

Her stomach tightened violently.

She could feel it—deep, deep inside her womb. His lingering presence. His marking scent. His heavy release still pooling in her depths. Her body was still overwhelmingly full. Still invaded.

"Hiekk—" Seleyena’s breath caught sharply in her throat, her eyes wide, glassy, and utterly shattered.

For a long moment, she simply lay there, her soft body visibly trembling from the lingering, traumatic intensity of the night before.

Drip.

And a sound that was all it took to let her drown in sorrow.

A single teardrop fell against the pillows.

Big enough to show the crushing amount of physical and emotional pain she just felt now.

She could feel the hot wetness creeping down her pale cheeks, the tears finally breaking free from her tightly clenched, trembling eyelids.

Her bare chest heaved as the crushing weight of the situation suffocated her. The utter humiliation, the absolute violation, the stinging rawness of everything he had done to her.

She couldn’t hold it back any longer.

The tears came like a broken dam—slow, silent, fat drops that streaked her flushed, bruised cheeks, each one a burning reminder of what she had allowed to happen, what he had brutally taken from her.

"Wh—What did you do to me?" she gasped, her voice broken, fragile, like a delicate shard of glass ready to shatter completely into dust.

"I—I didn’t want this... not like this." Her voice wavered, raw and trembling, barely more than a pathetic whisper caught in the devastating aftermath.

Her small hands clenched into tight fists, pressing hard against her face, as if she could physically scrub the shame and his scent from her skin—but the tears only flowed faster, leaking through her fingers.

Hot trails ran down her cheeks, soaking into her palms. Her bare, bruised shoulders shook with silent, agonizing sobs.

"Don’t cry, Seleyena," came that voice—low, sharp, and possessing a dark timber that cut through the heavy, oppressive silence like a hot knife through silk.

She flinched violently. Her breath caught.

She hadn’t noticed the shift in the mattress until his immense weight moved, until she felt the humid air stir with his massive body leaning in.

Before she could recoil or scramble away, his thick, heavily muscled arms wrapped around her—tight, iron-like, swallowing her small, trembling frame up in his blazing heat. Her naked, sensitive skin pressed flush to his, her heavy breasts squishing completely flat into the firm, unyielding wall of his chest, her overly sensitive nipples brushing painfully against his taut muscle.

But it wasn’t just her upper body that reacted.

As he hauled her tighter against him, their lower halves collided seamlessly. Her hips—still terribly sore, slick, and raw from his grip and his relentless torment all night—shifted directly against the thick, heavy bulge of his dick, which was already beginning to harden and twitch with fresh heat from the friction. His thick length brushed right against her wet slit, insistent, pressing up into the sensitive, trembling, and abused flesh of her lower core.

"Ahnn—!" A broken, wet whimper escaped her lips, totally involuntary and soft, torn from her due to the sharp sting of pain and residual pleasure caused by the sheer force he used to hug her.

His heavy scent hit her next. Utterly intoxicating. Thick with male sweat, the sharp tang of sex, and something distinctly darker—like the feral remnants of last night’s dominance still clinging to his pores.

"Leave me!" she gasped, her voice cracking pitifully as her small fists pounded weakly, uselessly at his corded arms. "Don’t touch me—don’t you dare!"

But he didn’t let go. He didn’t even budge.

If anything, he drew her closer—until her trembling, entirely defeated frame was buried securely against his broad chest, her soft, pliable flesh molding perfectly into the hard, unforgiving shape of him, her swollen breasts flattened and aching beautifully against his searing warmth.

She could feel the slow, deeply controlled rise and fall of his breathing, the steady, calm thump of his heart beneath her ear, mocking her own frantic pulse.

"You ruined me," she sobbed, her voice muffled into the hot skin of his chest, wet, pathetic, and completely hollow. "You ruined my life..."

He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of her distress and his claim on her. His hot breath grazed her temple, making her shiver. "I told you," he murmured, his voice incredibly low, vibrating against her chest, almost cruel in its absolute, unwavering calm. "Once you cross the line... you’re mine. Did you forget that?"

Her bruised body stiffened. Her spine arched rigidly as if a live current had jolted straight through her fried nerves.

He loosened his iron hold just enough to lift her chin with two thick fingers. Her lips trembled, parting with a mix of confusion and pure dread, as her tear-filled eyes met the dark, consuming abyss of his.

Then, with deliberate, agonizing slowness, he dipped his head forward and pressed his lips to her wet cheek.

Once. Twice. Right where her hot tears fell.

The kisses were scaldingly warm. Damp. Overwhelmingly possessive. Each soft brush of his lips somehow stripped her bare and left her feeling more exposed than the brutal night before ever had.

Her battered body trembled even harder. He was slowly, methodically kissing away her tears, tasting her sorrow, and then moving to the corners of her eyes.

Her wet eyelashes fluttered closed as the fragmented memories flooded back in—the venomous, arrogant words she’d spat at him hours ago, the cocky dare in her tone, the foolish, misplaced pride in her challenge that had pushed the beast over the edge.

"I take full responsibility for these tears and... the one who is shedding them."

"I will come back next time with gifts, Seleyena," Cruxius said with a lazy wave of his hand, tilting his head and giving her a parting wink. He cast one last glance at the flushed, heavily breathing woman still tangled in the damp, ruined bedsheets, the lingering scent of their activities heavy in the air.

Zipping up his pants with a sharp metallic rasp, he adjusted his belt and exited the dimly lit room. Already dressed and composed, he focused ahead—where Darithi stood waiting.

She was as vigilant as ever in her tailored bodyguard attire, though the cut of her suit hugged her toned figure a little too perfectly. The crisp, white fabric of her button-down strained ever so subtly against the swell of her chest, the faint outline of her taut peaks just barely visible through the material. She glanced in his direction as he approached, her sharp eyes briefly noting the slightly disheveled state of his hair, though her expression remained flawlessly professional.

"Report," Cruxius inquired curtly as both he and Darithi moved down the long, quiet hallway together.

"Thalia seems to be adjusting to the family without attempting to escape. The Hero Association is playing tactically in Zone 7, clearly on edge after the recent loss of their heroes," Darithi reported, her voice smooth as she relayed the up-to-date intel.

She had been closely monitoring the growing tension between the Hero Association and the Villain Syndicate, as well as keeping a strict eye on Thalia’s progress at the main family estate, where the girl had been sent to learn the family business.

Naturally, there was some resistance.

Thalia had no prior connection to the household and zero influence over its inner workings. It wasn’t easy for the elite family to simply trust her with their dirty secrets or teach her their heavily guarded ways.

However, Cruxius had lied to the family head—claiming that Thalia was the woman he intended to marry.

’She’ll learn soon enough, given their desperation to marry me off.’