10x God-Tier Stealing System: Pumping S-Rank SuperHeroines Daily!-Chapter 23- Thalia’s Frustration

He bit down on the curve of her shoulder. Just enough.

She gasped.

His mouth traveled. Down the arch of her collarbone. Down the swell of her chest. His hand was still cupping her breast, pressing it upward slightly, and when his lips found her nipple—when he drew it into his mouth and ’sucked’—

"’—MNNGH~!!’"

The sound that came out of her was embarrassing. Too high. Too soft. Something between a protest and a ’please.’

His tongue circled the hard peak. His teeth grazed. He sucked again, harder this time, cheeks hollowing, and she felt the pull of it radiating down through her chest to her core where he was still ’moving’, still slamming into her in deep, measured strokes that never quite let the pleasure crest.

"Stop—’stop’—" She was crying again. Couldn’t tell when she’d started. "’Please—’"

The ’please’ came out wrong.

Not like she meant it to.

He heard it too. She felt the way his grip tightened—the way his pace changed.

"’Again,’" he said, and it wasn’t a question.

PAH. PAH. ’PAAAH.’

"’Ngh—!! Ounngh~!! HIEKK~!!’"

Her back arched so sharply it hurt. Darithi absorbed the jerk of her body like a wall, holding her in place, keeping her spread, keeping her ’right there’ where he could reach every inch of her without impediment. The bodyguard’s expression hadn’t changed once. Not once. She might as well have been holding a lamp. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

Thalia’s head rolled back.

"’I hate—’" she gasped. "I ’hate’ you—"

"I know." His mouth moved to the other breast.

"’Both of you—’" Her voice cracked. "You—you ’machine’—Darithi, you’re not ’normal’—you’re helping him—’this isn’t normal—’"

"This is normal," Darithi said quietly.

The worst part was her tone.

Completely, utterly ’factual.’ No judgment. No mockery. Just the simple delivery of information as she understood it.

Thalia stared at the ceiling.

Something about that—about the sheer, calm ’normalcy’ Darithi attached to this—was more destabilizing than anything else in the last twenty minutes.

"’You’ve done this before,’" Thalia said.

"Yes."

"’How many times—’"

"Darithi," Cruxius said without lifting his mouth from her breast.

"Twelve," Darithi answered.

Thalia made a sound.

It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t disgust. It was something between genuine shock and a laugh that died halfway out of her throat, which—combined with the fact that he had ’just’ rolled his hips in a way that hit something inside her that made her see actual light—came out as a helpless, fractured "’hh—’"

PAH. PAH. PAH.

"’Mngh~!! Nnh—!! Aaahn~!!’"

The moans were different now.

She’d stopped fighting the sound. Couldn’t, anymore. Each one that slipped out had ’shape’ to it—soft and high and curling at the edges, the kind that sounded nothing like pain and everything like what it actually was.

Her body was answering him.

’Openly. Shamelessly.’

Her hips—held in Darithi’s grip—tried to move. Tried to rock ’toward’ him. Her pussy was ’gripping’ him on every withdrawal, walls clenching like it didn’t want to let go, and the obscene wet sound of their bodies meeting filled the empty hallway on every thrust.

"’Stop—’" she whispered. And even she could hear how hollow it was. "Please—stop—it’s too—"

"Your face," he said.

"’What—’"

He pulled back just enough to look at her.

She must’ve looked wrecked. She ’knew’ she looked wrecked. Tear-streaked and flushed and panting, lips bitten red, breasts heaving with each breath, body still spread by Darithi’s hands, leaking around him, nipple still wet from his mouth—

But he was looking at her like she was something he’d been looking for.

"’Don’t look at me like that—’"

"Why not." It wasn’t a question.

PAH. ’PAAAH.’

"’AHHH—!! Ngh~!! MN—NGHH~!!’"

She came.

Not elegantly. Not quietly. It crashed through her like the tide hitting stone—all at once and nowhere to run, her whole body going rigid in Darithi’s arms, thighs clamping shut reflexively except they ’couldn’t’ because Darithi held them open, and so all that tension had nowhere to go except ’inward’, clenching around him in violent pulses that wrung a sound out of her she’d never made before.

He didn’t stop.

"’—Stop—I already—’"

"Not yet."

PAH. PAH. PAH. ’PAAAH.’

"’HAANGH~!! A—AHHH—!! MNGH~!! NGHH~!!’"

Her voice broke. Twice. Three times. Her arms gave up on Darithi’s forearm entirely and just ’fell,’ dangling uselessly at her sides as he drove into her through the aftershocks of her orgasm, through the oversensitivity that made every thrust feel like too much and somehow not enough, through the point where she stopped even trying to form words.

Her moans were pure shape now.

Soft, broken ♡ sounds leaking from her mouth with each thrust, unwilled and unashamed, her body wrung so thoroughly open that there was nothing left between her and the sensation.

His pace changed.

Deeper. Slower. ’Deliberate.’

One hand left her waist and pressed flat against her lower belly—just above where they were joined—and the pressure there made her choke.

"’Wha—don’t—’"

"Feel that?" His voice was rough. Close. His breath was at her ear. "That’s where you end and I start."

She felt it. She could ’feel’ it—the outline of him inside her through the pressure of his palm, obscene and impossible and making her clench around him with a helpless sob.

"I told you—" She was crying again, properly now, and not entirely from anything bad. "’I told you to stop—’"

"After," he said.

"’After what—’"

His hips snapped forward. ’PAAAH.’

"’AANGH—!!’"

Once more.

’PAAAH.’

"’HH—NGHH~!!’"

And then he buried himself—’all the way,’ to the absolute limit, his hips flush against hers, her body pressed back against Darithi’s chest—and held there.

The first pulse hit her like a low drum.

Then the second.

Then the third, fourth, fifth—hot and thick and ’deep,’ flooding into her in waves that made her feel impossibly full, her womb taking everything he gave, her own body still clenching rhythmically around him like it was trying to pull every last drop inward.

Her eyes rolled.

Not dramatically. Just—’went,’ like a light dimming, irises sliding upward while her lids fluttered and her mouth fell open and the only sound she could produce was a long, boneless, "’...hhhh—’"

Her body went slack.

Completely, fully slack. If Darithi hadn’t been holding her she would have slid directly down the wall.

Darithi lowered her slowly. Her feet touched the marble floor and her knees buckled immediately—Darithi caught her under the arms again, this time gentler, and guided her down until she was sitting against the wall.

Cruxius stepped back. Fixed his clothes in three precise movements. Ran a hand through his hair.

He looked down at Thalia.

She sat with her back against the wall, dress torn beyond any use, hair a disaster, tear-streaked and flushed and absolutely covered in evidence of seven rounds. Her thighs were pressed together. Her eyes were half-open, irises still slightly unfocused, lips parted as she tried to remember how breathing worked.

His cum leaked between her thighs in a slow trail.

She stared at nothing for a long moment.

Then, very slowly, she turned her head and looked at Darithi, who was crouching beside her, already offering a folded handkerchief from her breast pocket. Expression exactly the same as always.

"...You," Thalia said.

Her voice was barely there.

"Yes?" Darithi said.

"Twelve times," Thalia said. "You’ve done this. Twelve times."

"Yes."

"...Does it ever bother you."

Darithi considered this. Genuinely. The way she considered most things—carefully, without emotion, arriving at the honest answer.

"No."

Thalia closed her eyes.

Exhaled very, very slowly.

"’I hate this mansion,’" she whispered.

Standing there while holding her with his hand, ruffling her hair as if he had not just banged her in the hallway.

"We will leave," he said. "Clean up."

Darithi offered the handkerchief again, patiently.

Thalia stared at the ceiling.

Her lower belly was full and warm and aching and she absolutely was ’not’ thinking about the feeling of his palm pressed there—

"...Do you ever," she started, stopped, closed her eyes. Tried again. "Do you ever just. Kill him."

"No," Darithi said.

"Why not."

A pause.

"He pays well."

Thalia looked at her.

For one full second they just looked at each other—the hollow-eyed bodyguard and the thoroughly ruined woman sitting on the hallway floor—and then Thalia laughed. Wet and broken and absolutely real, the sound bouncing off the marble walls.

She laughed until her ribs ached.

Until the tears that followed had nothing to do with anything sad.

Darithi waited, handkerchief extended, expression unchanged.

She was good at waiting.

She had done this twelve times.

’She would do it again.’