Dominance Evolution System: Sweat, Sex, and Streetball-Chapter 206: [R18]Tongue Work

"Aaah, come on! Does having an opinion mean being your enemy? Why are you like this?" Nia’s voice rang out sharp and exasperated in Victoria’s office, slamming her palms on the desk and hoisting herself up onto it.

Now on all fours, her body arched dramatically like a cat ready to pounce... or submit.

Victoria was sitting casually in her high-backed chair, one leg crossed over the other, her posture relaxed as if this were just another day.

A faint, amused smile curled her lips, though her eyes betrayed a growing boredom, flickering occasionally to her phone.

She tilted her head slightly, swirling her synth-whiskey glass idly, unfazed by Nia’s theatrical display.

The clock read 11:45 PM, the overhead lights of Hangar 47 casting long shadows across the office.

"Look, Nia," Victoria said, leaning back further. "I get it, you’re all fired up about Nash’s big idea. But recruiting Baby-Boom? It’s a fool’s errand. Those girls are buried in debt, and I don’t see why in hell this is my problem. I didn’t really—"

Nia shook her head wildly from her perch on the table, arms trembling, voice rising in pitch like a performer hamming it up for the crowd.

"But that’s exactly why we should! Come on, Ma’am, Nash is right! These Baby-Boom girls are like a trump card if the card could strip and burn the brains of the other players with a mean twerk. Come on, they’ve got the talent we need; they’re desperate, we’d be saving them from that hell. Imagine the boost, imagine the fresh energy, imagine the loyal players, imagine post-game celebrations that would destroy the locker room. You’re just being stubborn!"

She leaned in closer, hips shifting restlessly as if she might spring off the table at any moment.

Victoria’s smile faded a bit, her free hand drumming fingers on the armrest. She set her glass down with a soft clink, eyes narrowing.

"Stubborn? You keep pushing this, and it makes me wonder if you’re more Nash’s cheerleader than my loyal bitch. Does a good dick buy your loyalty, Nia?" Her gaze lingered on Nia’s exposed position for a beat longer than necessary before she glanced away, checking her phone again.

Still no word from Dahlia. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

This strange, charged standoff in Hangar 47 was no coincidence; it was happening at the exact same time Nash had Dahlia pressed against the desk at Midnight Rest.

Hours earlier, in a corner of the hangar bay, away from eavesdroppers, in other words, Dahlia, Nash had pulled Nia aside and told her about his project with Baby-Boom.

Nia’s eyes had widened in genuine surprise, then lit up with excitement.

"Wait... you actually want to recruit them? Like, bring those bitches onto the team?" A wicked grin spread across her face. "Oh my god, does that mean more locker-room moments? More girls fighting over who gets to ride you first after a win?"

Nash had chuckled, expecting a flash of jealousy, maybe some territorial act. Instead, Nia stepped closer, fingers trailing down his chest.

"Don’t look so shocked, babe. The more the merrier. I like being one of the ones who can still make you moan, need to teach’em not all bitches are the same."

Nash’s plan to proceed with the search in the Midnight Rest was rather simple.

"Keep Victoria busy in her office. Fake an argument about the Baby-Boom’s situation and drag it out as long as possible. When Dahlia comes, we’ll pretend I’m booking you for tonight, so she’ll follow me to the Midnight Rest. You, make sure Victoria stays here for a long time..."

Now, as Nia held her dramatic pose on the desk and Victoria’s patience thinned, the plan ticked along perfectly.

He didn’t deliberately take a big risk with Dahlia; he knew he had all the time in the world until Nia called for him.

The web tightened, and neither Victoria nor Dahlia yet realized how skillfully they were being played.

Back at Midnight Rest, the air in Victoria’s office was filled with body heat and hushed breaths.

Nash’s lips moved slowly against Dahlia’s in a soft kiss. No rush, no dominance yet, just the gentle press of his mouth on hers, tasting the faint trace of whiskey and the sweetness underneath.

His goal this time wasn’t to satisfy himself, but to put the woman on a pedestal to control her future reactions.

His large hands cradled her face, thumbs brushing along her jawline as if she were something fragile and priceless.

When he pulled back just enough to meet her light green eyes, he smiled.

"You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?" he murmured. "Every inch of you."

Dahlia’s breath caught, the towel still loosely tucked around her body.

She tried to roll her eyes, to keep that annoyed edge she’d worn all the time, but the way Nash looked at her, like she was the only thing in the entire Underground worth seeing, made it impossible.

Her cheeks warmed despite herself.

He kissed her again, slower this time, parting her lips with the gentlest pressure, tongue sliding in to meet hers in a lazy, lingering dance.

One hand drifted down the column of her throat, tracing the line of her collarbone, then lower, stopping just at the edge of the towel.

He didn’t pull it away yet. Instead, his fingertips drew feather-light circles over the soft fabric, right above the swell of her heavy breasts.

"Look at you," he said against her mouth. "Your skin is so soft. And these curves... I could spend all night just caressing them."

His palm finally slipped beneath the towel, cupping one full breast, thumb brushing over her nipple until it hardened under his touch. Dahlia exhaled a shaky sigh, arching instinctively into his hand.

Nash guided her back until her hips met the edge of the desk. With careful hands, he lifted her onto it, stepping between her thighs without ever breaking the kiss.

The towel parted naturally as her legs spread for him, revealing the toned length of her thighs, the soft dip of her stomach, the glistening heat between them.

He didn’t dive in, he savored it.

His lips left hers to trail down her neck, open-mouthed kisses that made her shiver.

"Perfect," he whispered against her throat. "Every part of you is perfect."

He moved lower, kissing along her collarbone, then down to the valley between her breasts.

One hand supported her back while the other continued its gentle worship, rolling her nipple between finger and thumb, then soothing it with the warm flat of his tongue when he finally took it into his mouth.

Dahlia’s head fell back, her platinum bob brushing the desk as a soft moan escaped her.

Her fingers threaded into his hair, just holding him, as if anchoring herself to the feeling.

Nash took his sweet time, long, slow licks, gentle suction, switching to the other breast to give it the same devoted attention.

All the while, his free hand stroked up and down her thigh, higher each time, teasing but never quite reaching where she was starting to ache for him.

When he finally sank to his knees between her legs, he looked up at her like she was a queen on a throne.

"Let me take care of you," he said quietly. "Tonight, you’re the center of my world."

His hands slid under her thighs, lifting them gently over his broad shoulders. He kissed the inside of one knee, then the other, working his way up with deliberate tenderness, soft lips, warm breath, the occasional graze of teeth that made her gasp.

When he finally reached the apex, he didn’t rush. He pressed a single kiss to her clit, then traced her folds with the flat of his tongue, slow and thorough, tasting her like she was the finest wine he’d ever had.

Dahlia’s hips lifted toward him, a soft whimper slipping out. Nash hummed in answer, the vibration sending sparks through her. He kept the pace slow, long licks, gentle circles around her clit, two fingers easing inside her only when she was trembling and dripping for him.

He curled them slowly, perfectly, stroking that spot that made her thighs tighten around his head.

"You taste incredible," he murmured against her, voice muffled. "So wet for me... How could I not realize it sooner?"

He brought her higher gradually, beautifully, never overwhelming, just building wave after wave of pleasure until her back arched off the desk, her breath coming in soft, broken cries.

His tongue traced long, slow paths from her entrance to her swollen clit, lapping at her with broad, flat strokes that made Dahlia’s thighs quiver around his shoulders.

Every time he reached the sensitive bundle of nerves, he circled it delicately, first clockwise, then counter, varying the pressure until he found the rhythm that drew the sweetest gasps from her lips.

"Oh... Nash..." Dahlia’s voice was soft, breathy little moans that grew louder with each stroke.

Her hands found his hair, fingers threading through the strands, holding him close, pressing his face deeper between her legs as if she couldn’t bear even an inch of distance.

Her hips rolled in small circles, grinding against his mouth, chasing the building pressure.

He could feel her getting closer: the way her walls trembled around his fingers, the way her thighs tightened, the way her moans turned into desperate whimpers.

He kept the pace steady, relentless in its gentleness, long licks, soft sucks, fingers stroking in perfect rhythm, until Dahlia’s entire body went rigid.

"Nash... oh god—I’m—"

Her back arched sharply off the desk, head thrown back, hair spilling across the scattered papers.

A long moan tore from her throat as her pussy clenched hard around his fingers, and then she squirted, clear, hot fluid gushing against his tongue.

Only then did Nash rise. He pressed tender, open-mouthed kisses up the trembling plane of her stomach, lingering between her breasts to taste the salt of her skin, then higher until his lips found hers again.

He kissed her deeply, letting her taste her own release on his tongue.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, letting her feel safe and adored in the afterglow.

In that moment, Dahlia wasn’t Victoria’s spy, wasn’t the composed assistant with the sharp tongue.

She was just a woman being cherished, thoroughly, magnificently, by a man who made her feel like the most desired creature in the Underground.

And while Nia kept Victoria occupied in that endless argument miles away, Nash had all the time in the world to take control of her trump card.