10x God-Tier Stealing System: Pumping S-Rank SuperHeroines Daily!-Chapter 94 - Reacting to the Man You Love

"...Sorry?" Ytrisia looked thoroughly confused, glancing skeptically at the doctor. She was just about to voice a suggestion about contacting some healing-type superheroes who might reverse the effect, but was abruptly cut off.

"Let’s talk with the doctor first. Master will come soon enough," Darithi said smoothly, her eyes darting to Cruxius. Seeing his composed, dark gaze and reading their near-invisible exchange of signals, she instantly understood the assignment. She grabbed Ytrisia’s arm firmly and pulled her toward the door, tailing the doctor.

After all, it certainly wasn’t the first time she had silently facilitated his darker intentions.

"But—!?—click." Before Ytrisia could voice her growing suspicions, Darithi dragged her out into the hall.

The door clicked shut. The lock engaged.

Silence. Heavy and thick.

’Now, I... come on, woman, are you kidding me?’ Cruxius, who had arranged so many intricate moving parts for this grand drama, turned toward Seleyena and found her lying perfectly still, her eyes closed peacefully as if she had actually fallen asleep.

He stood beside the hospital bed for a long moment, internally debating whether he should just leave her there—quiet, untouched. But then his dark eyes trailed slowly over her prone form.

Seleyena lay there beautifully ruined—her pale skin flushed warm and damp with a fragrant sweat. Her normally pristine white button-down shirt was now damp, clinging desperately to her lush curves. It was translucent enough to clearly reveal the delicate black lace of her bra underneath, tracing the heavy, inviting shape of her breasts. Her chest rose and fell in fast, uneven, ragged breaths. Through the wet silk and lace, her nipples pushed forward aggressively, stiff and pebbled into tight buds from the cold air of the room—or perhaps from the filthy, heat-drenched dream she was trapped in.

’A last try... no forcing.’ Playing the perfect, patient gentleman, he decided to offer one final trigger.

He leaned in agonizingly slow, pretending to gently check her temperature.

Then... he hugged her. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

To an observer, it would look soft. Gentle. Like he truly cared for her well-being.

But he deliberately pressed his hips forward, just enough to make contact. Her soft, full breasts flattened deliciously under the firm pressure of his muscular chest.

He felt them—heavy, warm, and entirely real—yielding through the thin fabric. Her intoxicating scent, warm, musky, and undeniably sweet with arousal, filled his lungs. Even seemingly unconscious, her hypersensitive body reacted violently to the friction—a soft, full-body twitch, followed by a tiny, breathy whimper slipping past her glossy lips.

His large hand ran slowly, possessively through her tangled hair.

"I need to leave, Seleyena," he whispered, his deep voice vibrating right against the sensitive shell of her ear. "Maybe this will be the last time we see each other."

He started to pull his warmth away and turned his back, already calculating that perhaps her moral compass was too strong... that all his elaborate planning had amounted to nothing.

Thud!

Something incredibly soft but heavy slammed directly into his back. He purposely let himself lose balance, crashing hard onto the cold, unforgiving hospital floor with a heavy grunt.

"What the—?!"

He turned his head—and froze, feigning utter shock.

Seleyena was entirely on top of him.

Her eyes were wide open now, completely glossy, dilated, and burning hot with unrestrained lust. Her plump lips trembled, and her soft body shook like a leaf in a storm as she forcefully climbed onto his lap, spreading her thighs shamelessly wide. Her bare legs trembled as they settled firmly over his thick thighs on either side, caging him in.

The restrictive black pencil skirt had ridden dangerously high—bunched all the way up to her hips. Just underneath, a pair of soft, delicate black silk panties stretched taut over her milky white thighs. The thin gusset of the fabric was already visibly darker, dripping with the heavy slickness of her own wetness.

He could feel her—blazing hot and soaking wet—pressing down directly onto the heavy, thick bulge straining against the zipper of his slacks.

Her hips shifted downward, just slightly at first, testing the friction.

"Haa... hahh..." Her breath hitched, coming out in soft, broken moans that sounded more animal than human.

Her soft thighs instinctively clenched tighter around his waist, aggressively grinding her soaked panties against the hard, unforgiving ridge in his pants. The contrast of the rough fabric against her swollen, hyper-sensitive folds made her gasp.

Her entire body was trembling violently with an all-consuming need, even as her flushed face burned with the profound shame of what she was doing.

"D-Don’t leave me..." she whispered, her voice a broken, pleading whine.

Cruxius looked up at her from the floor, his eyes dark and calculating, like a man watching the final, beautiful piece of a complex puzzle snap perfectly into place.

She wasn’t trembling because she was weak. She was trembling because she was finally falling.

He slowly brought a large, warm hand up to cup her flushed cheek, his thumb brushing over her trembling lower lip.

"You’re not out of control, Seleyena," he murmured, his voice a low, hypnotic rumble. "You’re just... finally telling the truth."

She flinched visibly at the weight of the words. Her glossy eyes filled with hot, conflicted tears—but her hips betrayed her completely, moving downwards again.

Once. Sliding her swollen clit against his zipper.

Then again. Pressing harder.

And again. Chasing the agonizing friction.

Her soaked silk panties made soft, obscene, wet sounds as they rubbed rhythmically over his rigid hardness.

Her aching center pressed perfectly, heavily against the hard metal button of his pants. Her back arched slightly, her chest thrusting forward as her mouth fell open in a silent, euphoric moan.

"I hate this," she whispered brokenly, hot tears slipping down her cheeks. "I hate how you make me feel... I don’t act like this... I’m not a vulgar woman... I’m not..."

But the slick, desperate grinding of her hips said otherwise.

So did her inner thighs, tightening possessively around his waist.

So did her trembling fingers, gripping the fabric of his shirt so tightly her knuckles were white, clinging to him like she’d completely fall apart if she let him go.

"You’re not a vulgar woman," Cruxius said, his dark voice wrapping around her like pure silk. "You’re just reacting exactly as you should towards the man you love."

Seleyena’s tear-streaked face was a messy, beautiful portrait of unrestrained lust and deep-seated shame. Her cheeks were flushed a violent, feverish crimson, her plump lips swollen, glistening with saliva, and parted in silent pleas. Her delicate glasses were completely fogged over, slipping precariously down the bridge of her nose.

A thin sheen of sweat clung stubbornly to her forehead, damp strands of her dark hair sticking to her flushed skin. Her wide, glazed eyes begged him without uttering a single word.

Her soft, plush hips moved entirely on primal instinct—grinding slow, heavy, and desperately against Cruxius’s lap. She was chasing the agonizing friction, chasing the fire burning her from the inside out.

Her black silk panties were entirely soaked through—barely clinging to her skin, rendered completely transparent with her own heavy wetness. The sheer, damp fabric shamelessly outlined every plump, swollen curve of her aching slit. Beneath the silk, her clit throbbed violently, completely starved for direct contact.

Every wet, grinding rub dragged a pathetic moan from deep in her throat—"Mmh... haaah... aah..."