10x God-Tier Stealing System: Pumping S-Rank SuperHeroines Daily!-Chapter 194- Lira’s Needs
Cruxius knelt near the edge of the mattress, chest heaving. His thick length was still wet, half-erect and glistening as a final, lazy drop of white spilled from the slit. Ytrisia lay sprawled flat, her exhausted body riding out soft aftershocks. Her arms rested limply above her head like a broken doll.
Cruxius leaned down, pressing a simple kiss to her forehead.
It wasn’t lustful. It wasn’t dominant.
It was just... calm. As if breaking a woman down to a trembling, leaking mess was merely his morning routine. As if her raw throat and twitching thighs were perfectly normal.
He stood, stretching his broad back and rolling his shoulders like a large cat waking from a nap. With casual precision, he grabbed his dark pants. He dressed in silence, lacking any urgency, exuding a predator’s chilling detachment.
Ytrisia finally stirred.
Sluggish and drained.
She sat up with a wince. Built like a goddess but wrecked like a ragdoll, her pale skin was littered with fresh marks—darkening hickeys and faint scratches. Her heavy breasts swayed, the nipples tight and gleaming with sweat, while her inner thighs remained a messy canvas of smeared white and clear nectar.
She reached for her discarded robe.
The silk slipped right through her trembling fingers.
Lira’s golden eyes narrowed in the crack of the door. She didn’t look away. She didn’t flinch at the bruises or the crude mess of fluids. She didn’t even blink at the faint, sickeningly worshipful smile tugging at Ytrisia’s swollen lips.
Lira just frowned.
Pure, cold disgust settled over her features. Nothing dramatic—just a quiet, heavy judgment.
And then—
The heavy door swung open.
The old hinges creaked as Cruxius pulled it wide, entirely uncaring of who might be standing in the hall. His massive frame blocked most of the candlelight—but not enough of it.
Because right behind his shoulder—
Ytrisia froze.
Her ruined body was clearly visible through the parted silk of the robe she had barely managed to pull on. One sleeve hung limp off her marked shoulder, exposing the plush curve of a bare breast. She clutched the fabric with shaking hands, her wide purple eyes locking straight onto Lira.
Time stalled.
Three souls. One dark hallway.
No sound remained except Ytrisia’s ragged breathing and the faint whisper of silk against her damp skin.
Cruxius stared down at Lira with an unreadable expression.
Blank. Untouched.
Not a single trace of shame crossed his features. Just a terrifying indifference, as if Lira had walked in on him drinking a glass of water, rather than reducing a woman to her base, leaking instincts.
Ytrisia blinked, pulling the silk tighter.
"Lira...?" she mumbled, her voice hoarse.
That was the only opening Lira needed.
"He’s trying to brainwash you," Lira stated, her tone devoid of any inflection.
Her arms stayed firmly crossed. Spine rigid. No dramatic gasps, no raised voice. Just a cold, clinical observation delivered like a sharpened blade.
"To manipulate you. To slowly degrade your worth until you think this is all you are." She tilted her chin up slightly.
"It’s his old, pathetic way of taming women."
Her golden eyes flicked right past Cruxius’s broad chest, landing squarely on Ytrisia, who stood trembling like a stunned deer.
"Don’t fall for it."
Cruxius looked down at Lira. His dark eyes were unnervingly calm, as if her sharp accusation had passed right through him like a draft through an open hall.
No flinch. No guilt. Just... a heavy pause.
He turned his attention back to Ytrisia, his voice dropping into a quiet murmur. "Wear your clothes. Take a bath first."
His tone wasn’t cold, nor was it particularly kind. It was simply commanding.
Ytrisia, still visibly trembling from whatever violent remnants of her climax lingered in her exhausted muscles, didn’t utter a word of argument. She clutched the lapels of her silk robe tighter to her chest and bolted past him into the adjoining bathroom like a frightened animal fleeing a predator. The sound of rushing water echoed through the room a moment later.
Cruxius exhaled slowly, a long, measured breath, before turning his broad back to the empty room.
He stepped out into the dim hallway.
The heavy, old wooden door clicked softly shut behind him.
Lira’s golden eyes locked immediately with his.
And just as she parted her lips to speak—to shout, to hurl another accusation—he moved.
Fast.
Far too fast.
His large, calloused hand clamped firmly over her mouth before her voice could even rise, pushing her backward. He pinned her flat against the cold stone wall with a quiet, undeniable force. His other hand braced flat against the stone just beside her head, effectively boxing her in.
He leaned in close. His chiseled face was cast in shadow, his expression hungry and dark.
"Shut up," he whispered, his voice as smooth and lethal as venom. "You’re going to mess this up, Lira."
Her golden eyes blazed with pure, unfiltered defiance. There was no fear in her gaze—only white-hot fury. Her bubblegum-pink hair clung messily to her flushed face, disheveled and wild, the soft tips brushing the high collar of her restrictive dress as she struggled vainly against his iron grip.
And then—
She bit him.
Hard.
She sank her teeth right into the meaty pad of his palm, biting down with everything she had.
Cruxius hissed sharply, yanking his hand back and shaking it once. Bright beads of blood immediately welled up from the deep, crescent-shaped indentations left by her teeth. He stared down at her.
She glared right back, completely unflinching, her chest heaving with rapid breaths.
"Oh?" His deep voice curled dangerously at the edges. "So you are going to attack."
"Of course I will," she snapped, her voice sharp and biting with the heat of her anger. "What do you think I am? Some pathetic plaything for you to break?"
Cruxius tilted his head a fraction of an inch. Then—he smiled.
It wasn’t a cruel smile. Nor was it kind.
It was just deeply, terrifyingly knowing.
"You’re starting to show your true colors," he murmured slowly, his dark eyes narrowing just a touch, like a seasoned warrior inspecting a blade that had finally been unsheathed.
"True colors?" she spat venomously. "You think you know anything about me?"
"No." His voice dropped an octave, vibrating in the narrow space between them. "But I know exactly what lies beneath all that righteous noise."
He caught her slender wrist suddenly—his grip soft, yet deliberate—and before she could wrench her arm away, he guided her hand downward. Slowly. Casually.
Until her palm pressed flat against the front of his dark trousers.
Right over the thick bulge—still heavy, still partially swollen beneath the fabric from his recent release. Warm. Unforgivingly solid.
Lira’s golden eyes widened in pure shock.
"What...?" Her voice dropped to a breathless whisper. "What is the meaning of this?"
He leaned in again, trapping her against the stone.
His hot breath brushed the sensitive shell of her ear.
"I still have stamina," he murmured, a faint, wicked amusement curling his lips against her skin. "If you want a turn."
The remaining tension snapped inside her like a violently struck wire.
"Don’t you dare!" she snarled, violently yanking her hand back as if she’d been burned, pure fury lacing every syllable. Her small palm slapped hard against his broad chest—but the impact didn’t even make him blink.
