10x God-Tier Stealing System: Pumping S-Rank SuperHeroines Daily!-Chapter 196- Taking Massage from a Hot Maid

Lira’s jaw practically unhinged.

Her small hands balled into tight fists on the sheets, her entire body trembling from the sheer, unbelievable gall of the request.

"You—are insane," she hissed venomously. "What kind of sick bastard—"

He didn’t respond to the insult.

He just yawned.

As if her boiling fury was nothing more than mildly irritating background noise.

She made a sharp, sudden move to rise—her long legs kicking out from under her, trying to quickly crawl across the mattress toward the opposite edge, toward the safety of the door. But his deep voice followed her like a cruel, invisible leash.

"Don’t you want the money?"

She froze mid-crawl.

His tone wasn’t loud. It wasn’t aggressive. It was just... pointed.

"Didn’t you tell your sister you’d pay her academy fee by working as my maid?"

Her breath caught painfully in her throat.

He knew.

Of course the bastard knew.

He turned his head slowly now. His golden eyes finally opened, gleaming lazily under the dark veil of his lashes. His mocking smile deepened into something victorious.

"Come on, Miss Maid. Massage me."

Lira’s delicate hand trembled uncontrollably where she sat, her bare knees folded on the very edge of the dark mattress. Cruxius’s quiet words kept echoing inside her skull like a slow-acting poison—her little sister, the expensive academy, the crushing debt. It all wrapped around her throat like heavy iron chains.

Cruxius didn’t move.

He simply lay there, one muscular arm tucked lazily under his head, his dark eyes half-closed. His broad chest rose and fell in a slow, impossibly steady rhythm. He looked as though he could sleep peacefully through a hurricane—but the thick, heavy shape resting between his thighs told an entirely different story. Even at rest, his cock gave an erratic, heavy twitch, growing noticeably fuller and darker with every breath he took.

Waiting.

"You bastard," she muttered under her breath, the curse lacking its usual fire. Her voice cracked with a deep, humiliating shame she hated showing.

But her trembling hand still moved.

First, a tiny twitch. Then a reluctant slide across the sheets. Just a few inches closer to his hip.

She sat rigidly beside him, stiff as a board, not daring to look at his face. Her pale fingers hovered hesitantly above the sculpted plain of his stomach.

"This is pathetic," she whispered, the words meant more for herself than for him.

And then, she finally touched him.

Her soft palm met the scorching hot skin of his abdomen—firm, tense muscle wrapped in smooth, flawless flesh. She felt him inhale, a slow, deep draw of air. He didn’t speak right away. He just exhaled softly, a low, rumbling sound of dark pleasure slipping past his parted lips.

"Slower," he murmured, his eyes remaining casually closed. "Don’t rush it, Lira. Feel everything."

She didn’t answer him, but her trembling fingers obeyed the command.

They moved downward—trailing across the hard ridges of his stomach, mapping each defined muscle as if tracing them meant something profound. Her hand slid reluctantly over the sharp curve of his hip bone, following the deep V-lines that pointed directly south. She swallowed hard, a thick knot of nerves forming in her throat.

Then came his voice, an octave deeper now: "Whole hand. Not just your fingertips."

Her jaw clenched tight enough to ache, but she obeyed him again. Her full, soft palm pressed flush against his skin now. She moved her hand in slow, agonizing circles, letting the overwhelming heat of his body bleed right into hers. He remained completely still. Dangerously still. But she could feel the coiled energy in him, waiting to strike. Reacting to her touch.

Then—he moved.

Just enough to forcefully guide her hand lower.

Over the sharp, jutting edge of his hip bone. Over the thin, dark trail of hair leading straight down his groin.

And then—her fingers were there.

Wrapped securely around his thick root.

Heavy. Throbbing. Supremely alive.

He was only half-hard, but even in that state, his incredible girth was more than enough to stretch her small hand to its absolute limit. Her breath caught sharply in her chest. Instinctively, she tried to snatch her hand away—

But he moved like a starved animal finally let off its leash.

In one sharp, blindingly fast motion, his large hands clamped around her narrow waist. He twisted her effortlessly, dragging her down against the mattress. Her small body slammed into his solid frame—her soft breasts flattening against his rigid chest, the tight fabric of her maid uniform caught and awkwardly folded between them. Her bare knee landed heavily across his thick thigh, her short skirt riding all the way up to her hips.

Her thin white panties were the only remaining barrier between them.

"Cruxius—stop—!"

But he rolled.

Quickly.

Violently.

Suddenly, she was pinned flat underneath him, entirely trapped. His massive arms caged her head. His heavy body pressed down, chest to chest, his muscular legs forcefully tangling with hers to keep her still. His half-erect cock was pinned snugly between them, pressing hot and heavy against her bare thigh, growing visibly harder and thicker with every passing second.

She gasped for air, her heart hammering frantically against her ribs.

"Get off me—!"

He didn’t give her the chance to finish the demand.

His mouth crashed down onto hers.

It wasn’t a kiss—it was a brutal, absolute claim. Deep. Unforgiving. His broad tongue forcefully parted her lips like he had every right to be there, invading her mouth with a shocking heat. His rough hand slid up her side, his fingers curling tightly into the dark velvet of her uniform bodice.

She fought him—her small fists pounding desperately against his broad shoulders—but it was exactly like hitting solid stone.

His mouth moved expertly against hers, possessing her as if his body remembered every single secret she kept. Her sweet taste. Her stuttering breath. Her deepest weaknesses.

He pulled back only when he finally chose to. A thick, wet string of saliva hung intimately between their parted mouths as he stared down at her flushed face, his eyes burning like liquid gold in the hazy morning light.

"You were much louder when you used to beg me," he stated, his voice a deep, vibrating rumble right against her ear.

Her golden eyes widened in shock.

She violently snapped her knee upward, aiming a vicious strike between his legs—but he caught her leg with insulting ease.

His massive hand slid right under her pale thigh, lifting it high. Her legs were forced open. Just a little at first. Just enough. His calloused fingers confidently found her center right through the thin, damp satin of her white panties.

He didn’t speak. He just began to rub her.

Gently. Back and forth.

Agonizingly slow.

"You’re trembling," he noted softly, his thumb pressing exactly where she needed it. "But it’s not because you’re scared of me."

A furious, humiliating heat poured directly into her face.

Lira’s delicate body violently jolted as his grip aggressively shifted. His hand clamped firmly under her thigh again, lifting her leg—hard—until her hips were forcefully hoisted awkwardly into the air, her lower back arched sharply over his rigid chest.

Her pale legs trembled pathetically, one still bent uselessly over his flank, the other pinned securely beneath his heavy weight.

Her maid’s skirt was bunched entirely at her narrow waist now, the dark uniform completely displaced.