Demonic Dragon: Harem System-Chapter 774: Workplace complaints from a frustrated wife! (R-18)

Strax's room was a silent contrast to the rest of the mansion.

There, the stone walls were covered in dark fabrics, thick enough to muffle sounds and thoughts. The light came from a few soft, magical lanterns, casting long shadows across the floor. There was something about that space that wasn't just comfort—it was refuge.

Strax entered first, releasing the breath he seemed to have been holding since the office.

He barely had time to close the door.

The instant Samira crossed the threshold, she grabbed him by the collar with unexpected force and pushed him against the wall. The impact was dry, but not aggressive—it was charged with urgency.

Before he could say anything, she kissed him.

It wasn't gentle.

It was intense, almost desperate, like someone who had been holding it in for too long. There was frustration there. Exhaustion. Need.

Strax stood motionless for a second, surprised—then he responded, holding her shoulders to steady her, feeling how tense she was.

"Samira…" he murmured, between pauses.

"I know," she replied, her forehead pressed against his, taking a deep breath. "But I'm at my limit."

She pulled away just enough to speak, still keeping her hands gripping his clothes.

"I'm stressed. Frustrated. Angry." She made a vague gesture with her hand. "These last few days… Rogue keeps throwing work at me. Mission after mission. Blood, bad deals, idiots thinking they can test me."

Strax gently ran his thumb across her face.

"You could have said you needed to stop."

She let out a short, humorless laugh.

"And lose momentum?" she shook her head. "It doesn't work like that with me. I just… accumulate. Until I explode."

She pushed him again, this time guiding him to the bed, and made him sit down. There was no violence in the gesture, only decisiveness.

"Today," she said, pointing to herself, "I don't want to be the executioner. Nor the commander. Nor someone's sword."

Strax looked up, attentive.

"What do you want to be?"

Samira took a deep breath.

"A tired wife who just got home from work."

She began to undress with firm movements, without exaggerated haste, like someone who didn't need to prove anything. When she was only in her lingerie, she stopped before him, arms crossed, observing him.

There was no empty provocation in her eyes.

There was vulnerability.

"I want to be pampered," she said, making a slight pout that didn't match the warrior the world knew at all.

The contrast was almost painful.

Strax stood up slowly and approached, placing his hands on her arms.

"You know you don't need to ask for that," he said softly.

"I know," she replied. "But today I want to ask." She rested her forehead against his chest, finally letting the weight fall.

"Out there I am strength. Here… I just want to rest."

Strax enveloped her in a firm embrace, not possessive, just present. Samira released the breath as if she had been holding it for hours, maybe days.

"You carry more than you admit," he said.

"Because if I stop to admit it, I'll crumble," she replied, muffled against him. "And I hate crumbling in front of others."

He closed his eyes.

"Then crumble here."

The silence that followed wasn't empty.

It was necessary.

Strax guided her back to the bed, this time carefully, sitting beside her. There was no rush now. Just closeness.

"Stay," she said, holding his hand. Not as an urgent request, but as an anchor.

"I'm here," he replied.

She lay down, pulling him close, not seeking dominance, but warmth. Her breathing gradually slowed.

"Love... Fuck me hard," Samira pleaded.

Strax felt her request echo in his chest like a low thunderclap, mixing the sweetness of vulnerability with the raw spark of desire.

Their eyes met, and there was no longer the armor of executioner or commander—only Samira, raw, exposed, asking for what only he could give.

He nodded slowly, his thumb tracing the line of her chin, down her neck to the neckline of the black lingerie that still partially covered her.

"Alright," he murmured, his voice hoarse with restrained emotion. "But slow first. You deserve this."

Samira blinked, surprised by the promise of patience, but didn't protest. Instead, she let him lay her back on the soft bed, the dark sheets crumpling under her weight.

The room seemed to shrink around them, the magic lanterns dimming their light as if they knew how to respect the moment.

Strax leaned over her, supporting himself on his forearms to avoid pressing against her, and captured her lips in a kiss that was the opposite of the first—slow, exploratory, as if he were rediscovering every curve of her mouth.

She moaned softly against him, her hands rising to entwine in his brown hair, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepened, tongues intertwining with a growing, yet controlled, urgency.

Strax moved his lips down to her neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin just below her ear, feeling her pulse quicken beneath his mouth.

"You're beautiful like this," he whispered, inhaling her scent—the day's sweat mixed with the woody perfume she wore only for him. "So strong... and so mine."

Samira arched her body, her nails digging lightly into his back through his shirt.

"Strax... please," she pleaded, her voice broken. He smiled against her skin and moved lower, kissing her neck, his skillful fingers untying the ribbon of her lingerie top.

The fabric slipped, revealing her full breasts, her nipples already hardened by the fresh air and desire. He didn't hesitate: he took one from his hand, sucking it slowly, his tongue swirling in lazy circles that made her moan loudly.

"Ah... yes, like that," she gasped, her hips moving involuntarily against him. Strax alternated between her breasts, licking, biting lightly, while one hand slid down her smooth stomach, tracing the subtle scars of past battles—marks he kissed like trophies.

Samira was a sight: her tanned skin gleaming in the dim light, her defined muscles trembling under his touch, her eyes half-closed in pure pleasure.

He pulled away just enough to take off his own shirt, throwing it to the floor. His body was a sculpture of strength—broad chest, abs sculpted by years of training, arms that could lift swords or her with equal ease. Samira reached out to touch him, her palms sliding across his chest, down to his belt.

"I want you naked," she said, her nimble fingers unfastening the zipper and pulling his pants down. Strax helped, freeing himself along with his underwear, his already hard, throbbing cock springing free, thick and long, the tip wet with pre-ejaculate.

Her eyes darkened with hunger at the sight.

"Come here," she murmured, pulling him back on top of her. Strax positioned himself between her legs, still not penetrating her, rubbing his cock against her lower lingerie, feeling the moist heat that already soaked the fabric.

He kissed his way back to her mouth, while his fingers finally slid down, pushing aside the thin fabric. Samira was soaked, her lips swollen with excitement, her clitoris throbbing under his touch.

"You're so wet," he growled, slowly inserting two fingers, curving them to hit that spot inside her that made her tremble.

Samira cried out softly, her inner walls contracting around him, drawing him deeper. He pumped slowly, his thumb circling her clitoris in firm movements, while he sucked on her earlobe.

"Is this what you wanted? To be pampered like this?"

"Yes... fuck my pussy with your fingers, love," she begged, her hips rising to meet each thrust. Strax quickened the pace, adding a third finger, stretching her, preparing her.

The sounds were obscene—the wet squelch of fingers going in and out, her moans echoing in the stuffy room. She came quickly, her first orgasm taking her by surprise, her body convulsing, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Strax! Fuck, I... ahhh!"

He didn't stop, prolonging the pleasure until she trembled with hypersensitivity. Only then did he withdraw his fingers, licking them clean before her eyes, her salty taste on his tongue.

"Delicious," he said, before moving down her body, kissing her belly, her inner thighs. Samira knew what was coming: he spread her legs even further, exposing her completely, and plunged his mouth into her pussy.

His tongue was merciless—licking from her lips to her clitoris, sucking it as if it were the best candy in the world. Samira gripped the sheets, her head falling back.

"Your mouth... fuck, Strax, you're killing me like this." He thrust his tongue inside her, simulating fucking, while his fingers returned to pinch her nipples. She came again, harder, squirting some into his mouth, which he swallowed with a guttural groan.

Now she was ready—limp, sweaty, begging.

"Fuck me hard now, love. I need to feel all of you." Strax rose, positioning the thick head of his cock at her entrance, rubbing to lubricate.

He entered slowly at first, inch by inch, feeling her open for him like a perfect glove.

"Damn, you're tight," he grunted, stopping halfway to let her adjust.

Samira wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels pressing against his buttocks.

"Deeper. Fill me up." He obeyed, sinking all the way in, his hips pressed against hers. They stayed like that for a moment, motionless, just feeling—his cock throbbing inside her, her walls massaging him.

Then he began to move: slow, deep thrusts first, almost completely out before plunging back in, hitting her cervix.

"Ah, yes! Fuck me, Strax, like that!" She dug her nails into his back, leaving red marks. He sped up, his hips slapping against hers with a rhythmic slap, the bed creaking beneath them.

The room filled with sounds: her loud, desperate moans, his grunts, skin against skin. Strax gripped her thighs, spreading them wider to penetrate at the perfect angle, his cock brushing against her G-spot with each thrust. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

"Do you like being fucked like this, wife?" he teased, sweating, his muscles flexing. "Do you like coming on your husband's cock?"

"Yes! Fuck me harder, damn it! Use me!" Samira was wild now, her breasts bouncing with each brutal thrust.

He flipped her onto her stomach without pulling out, lifting her hips—perfect doggy style. Now he went even deeper, one hand gently pulling her hair, the other slapping her round ass, leaving pink marks.

"This ass is mine," he growled, thrusting with animalistic force, his cock stretching her to the limit. Samira screamed into the pillow, another wave of orgasm approaching. "I'm going to come again... don't stop, love!"

He didn't stop—he fucked faster, his testicles hitting her clitoris, one hand sliding down to rub it. She exploded, her body convulsing, squirting onto his cock, soaking the sheets. Strax felt the tightness, her orgasm drawing him in, and lost control.

"I'm going to come inside you... take it all!"

With a roar, he buried himself deep, hot jets of cum filling her, pulsing once, twice, three times. They collapsed together, panting, him still inside her, embracing her from behind. Strax kissed her sweaty shoulder, murmuring, "I love you, Samira. Always."

She turned her face, smiling wearily. "I know. And now... spoiled enough?"

He chuckled softly, pulling out slowly, a trickle of cum running down her. "Just getting started." He wiped her with a soft cloth from the nightstand, then pulled her to his chest, covering them with the sheets. The room returned to silence, but now it was a satisfied silence, filled with the sound of synchronized breathing.

Samira traced circles on his chest. "Thank you for letting me fall apart."

"You never fall apart alone," he replied, kissing her forehead. They stayed like that, intertwined, the world outside forgotten. The refuge was theirs now—and the pleasure, eternal.