Lust Meter System: Conquering Beauties-Chapter 131: Get On The Counter

Liam looked at the space above her head.

The number was still there. Floating. Glowing softly in that way only he could see.

**[80/100]**

Time stopped.

Tasha froze mid-breath, the bathroom silent and still around him.

The system appeared.

*[Option 1: "It’s not about me. It’s about you." | +10 Lust Points]*

*[Option 2: "Let her go." | +5 Lust Points]*

’How is this actually about her?’ Liam thought, glancing at her frozen expression, then down at himself, then back up. ’I genuinely don’t know. That doesn’t even make sense when I say it in my head.’

He sighed. ’I have the chance to just stop this... but I’m just going to go with the flow.’

Time resumed.

"It’s not about me," Liam said. "It’s about you."

Tasha blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

She looked at him like he’d just said something in a language she didn’t speak.

Then her eyes dropped.

His cock was still hard. Fully. Like the last ten minutes hadn’t happened at all.

"Liam." Her voice went flat. "Your dick is literally still out and you’re trying to tell me this is about me?"

"It is."

"That’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard all week."

"You asked what I wanted."

"And apparently what you want is to lie to my face." She straightened up, brushing her hair back from her face with one hand. "I just sucked you off. You came. We’re done here."

"We’re not done," Liam said.

Tasha stopped. Turned back to look at him. "What?"

Time stopped.

The system appeared.

*[Option 1: "Get on the counter." | +10 Lust Points]*

*[Option 2: "Maybe I was wrong." | +0 Lust Points]*

’Finally. Now this actually makes sense.’ 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

Time resumed.

**[+10 Lust Points → 100/100]**

"Get on the counter." Liam paused. "Now."

She stared at him.

A full three seconds of just staring.

Then she laughed. Not a nice laugh. The kind that said she thought he was joking and it wasn’t funny.

"You’re out of your mind."

"I’m serious."

"You just got out of the hospital, Liam. You have stitches. Actual stitches. You can barely take your own shirt off."

"And so?"

"So you’re going to what, fuck me against the bathroom counter? With cracked ribs?"

"That’s the plan."

Tasha looked at him. Really looked at him.

Like she was trying to figure out if he’d hit his head hard and the doctors missed it.

"This is insane," she said.

"You’re still here."

"Because I’m trying to figure out if you’re serious or if this is some kind of weird post-hospital brain thing."

"I’m serious."

She didn’t move.

Just stood there in his oversized shirt, arms at her sides, looking at him like he was a problem she hadn’t figured out how to solve yet.

The shirt hung loose on her frame, falling to mid-thigh and swallowing her hands in the sleeves.

The neckline was wide enough that it had slipped slightly off one shoulder, showing the smooth curve of her collarbone.

"Why?" she asked finally.

"Why what?"

"Why do you want to do this? I know you’re built different, but can’t you just be like most fat guys — cum once and call it a night?" She looked at him. "Why can’t you just be normal and tap out like the rest of them?"

"I’m not most fat guys."

"Clearly." Her eyes moved to the bandaging at his side again. "But You’re still going to hurt yourself."

"I’ll be fine."

"You don’t know that."

"Tasha." His voice dropped slightly. Not softer. Just more direct. "Do you want this or not?"

She opened her mouth. Closed it.

The movement made her lips press together, then part slightly. Opened again.

"That’s not the point," she said.

"It’s exactly the point."

"The point is you’re injured and this is stupid."

"So that’s a no?"

"I didn’t say that."

"Then what are you saying?"

She looked at him. He looked back.

The bathroom hummed between them.

"I’m saying," Tasha said slowly, her eyebrows drawing together, "that if you tear those stitches, I’m not explaining it to anyone. Not the doctor. Not the police. Nobody."

"Fine."

"And if you pass out, I’m leaving you on the floor."

"Also fine."

She stared at him for another moment.

Her jaw was tight, her blue eyes searching his face like she was waiting for him to crack.

Then her hands moved to the hem of the grey shirt.

"If this is about me," she said, fingers gripping the fabric, "then you’re doing the work."

"What?"

"You heard me." Her eyes met his, sharp and direct. "You want to make me feel good? Then make me feel good. Take it off yourself."

Liam raised an eyebrow. "You’re really going to make an injured guy undress you."

"You’re the one who said you weren’t done." She dropped her hands, the shirt falling back into place. "So prove it."

’She still thinks I’m that same guy she could push around. The one she had control over.’ Liam thought to himself as a smile grin tugged his lips.

---

Liam stepped forward.

His hand moved to the hem of the grey shirt, his fingers curling into the soft fabric.

He pulled it up slowly.

The shirt lifted past her thighs first. Smooth pale skin appeared inch by inch, her legs lean and shapely.

Then past her hips, where the black panties sat low, the waistband cutting across her hipbones.

He kept pulling.

Past her stomach. Flat and toned, her belly button a small indent just above the line of her panties.

Past her ribs. He could see the rise and fall of her breathing now, faster than before.

And then her breasts.

Full and round, sitting high on her chest without any support. Her nipples were already hard, small pink buds that stood out against the pale skin.

He pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it aside.

Tasha stood there in just her black panties now, her long black hair falling loose around her bare shoulders.

Her arms twitched like she wanted to cover herself but she didn’t. Just stood there, her chin lifted slightly, her blue eyes locked on his.

Her cheeks were flushed. Pink spreading from her neck up to her face. Her lips were parted slightly, her breathing audible in the quiet bathroom.

"Happy now?" Tasha asked, her voice coming out rougher than she probably intended.

"Getting there."

His hand moved to her hip. Palm flat against the bare skin, warm under his touch. He slid it up slowly, fingers trailing along her side, feeling the curve of her waist.

When he reached her ribs he stopped and looked at her face.

Her eyes had gone half-lidded. Her teeth caught her bottom lip for just a second before she released it.

"Counter," he said.

"What?"

"Sit on the counter."

Tasha’s eyebrows went up slightly, but she didn’t argue.

She turned and pushed herself up onto the bathroom counter, hands bracing on either side of her.

The granite was cold against the back of her thighs and she gasped softly, her shoulders pulling back slightly from the shock of it.

Liam stepped between her legs.

His hand went to her thigh, higher this time, fingers pressing into the soft flesh there.

Her legs parted slightly to make room for him, the movement automatic.

"Liam," she said.

"What?"

"If you’re going to do something, do it."

He looked up at her. "Impatient?"

"You’re the one who wanted this."

"I did." His fingers reached the edge of her panties. He hooked them with one finger. "And I’m taking my time."

He pulled the panties aside.

She was wet.

He could see it clearly now. Her pussy was flushed pink, her lips swollen and glistening with arousal. The slickness had spread, coating her inner thighs slightly. Not a strand of hair in sight.

"Jesus," he said quietly.

Her face went redder. Her eyes darted away from his, looking at the wall beside them. "Don’t."

"Don’t what?"

"Don’t look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you’re surprised."

"I’m not surprised." His finger traced along her entrance, feeling the heat radiating from her, the wetness coating his fingertip immediately. "Just appreciating the view."

"Shut up."

He smiled. Then his finger pushed inside.

Tasha’s breath caught. Her hands gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles going white. Her mouth fell open slightly.

He went slow. Just one finger, sliding in until he was knuckle deep, then pulling back out. Testing. Feeling the way her body tightened around him, the warm slickness coating his finger.

"Relax," he said.

"I am relaxed."

"You’re not." He pushed back in, curling his finger slightly. "Your entire body just went rigid."

"Because you’re staring at me."

"So close your eyes."

"I don’t want to close my eyes."

"Then stop complaining."

She opened her mouth to respond but he curled his finger again and whatever she’d been about to say turned into a sharp intake of breath. Her eyebrows drew together.

"Mmh—" Low and bitten off, barely a syllable, like she’d caught it too late.

"There it is," Liam said quietly.

He found the spot and pressed against it deliberately. Her thighs tensed on either side of him, muscles going taut.

"Fuck," she breathed.

"Better?"

She didn’t answer. Just sat there with her hands gripping the counter, breathing through her nose, her lips pressed together in a tight line.

He added a second finger.

The stretch made her gasp, her head dropping forward slightly. Her long black hair fell around her face, hiding her expression.

Liam’s free hand moved to her hip, steadying her. His thumb pressed against the bone there, holding her in place.

"Look at me," he said.

"No."

"Tasha."

"I said no."

He curled both fingers and she jerked.

"—nh—" Quiet and sharp, punched out of her before she could stop it.

"Look at me," he said again.

She lifted her head slowly. Her eyes met his.

They were half-lidded now, her pupils blown wide, almost swallowing the blue.

"Good," he said.

Then he started moving.

Slow strokes. In and out. His fingers worked in a steady rhythm, not rushed, not aggressive. Just consistent.

Her breathing got heavier. Her chest rose and fell, her breasts moving with each breath. The pink of her nipples had deepened, standing out even more now.

Her stomach muscles tensed with each stroke, a light sheen of sweat starting to form on her skin.

"Liam," she said quietly, her voice breathy.

"What?"

"This is—" Her breath hitched. "—fuck."

"This is what?"

She didn’t finish. Just shook her head, her hair swaying with the movement.

His thumb found her clit. He pressed down gently and started rubbing in slow circles.

Tasha’s back arched immediately, her head falling back. Her mouth opened in a silent gasp, her throat exposed, the line of it taut.

"There we go," Liam said.

He kept the pace steady. His fingers inside her, his thumb working her clit, building the pressure gradually.

The scent of her filled the small bathroom. Something sweet and musky and entirely her. It was stronger now than it had been before, mixing with the steam and the lingering smell of sex.

Her hips started moving. Small motions at first, subtle shifts forward that met his hand. But they got more deliberate with each stroke, her body chasing the feeling, grinding against his fingers.

"That’s it," he said quietly.

She didn’t respond. Her eyes were closed now, her face tilted up toward the ceiling.

Her lips were parted.

"Hh. Hh. Hh."

Breathing coming out in short uneven bursts that made her breasts rise and fall rapidly.

Her thighs were trembling.

The muscles there going taut and then releasing, over and over, like her body couldn’t decide whether to pull away or press closer.

Her hands had moved from the counter to his shoulders now, gripping tight, her nails digging into his skin.

"Liam," she said again. Her voice was strained now, higher pitched. "I’m close."

"I know."

He didn’t change anything. Same pace. Same pressure. His fingers curling on every stroke, hitting that spot inside her deliberately, his thumb maintaining that steady rhythm against her clit.

Her whole body tensed. Every muscle going rigid at once. Her thighs clamped down around his hand.

"Liam—" His name broke in the middle. "Don’t stop—"

"I’m not."

Her nails dug in harder, probably leaving marks.

And then she came.

Her body jerked forward, a sound starting as his name and not making it, as she buried her face against his neck. He felt her clench around his fingers, pulsing in strong waves that went on and on.

Her breath came out hot against his skin, ragged and uneven.

She stayed like that. Forehead pressed against his shoulder, her whole body shaking, breathing like she’d just run a mile.

Liam kept his hand where it was, letting her ride it out. When the last pulse faded he slowly pulled his fingers out.

"...ah." — barely audible, involuntary, like the last of the tension leaving her at once.

He stepped back slightly, giving her space.

She lifted her head.

Her face was completely flushed now, red spreading from her cheeks down her neck.

Her eyes were glassy, unfocused, pupils still blown wide. Strands of black hair stuck to her forehead and cheeks, damp with sweat.

Her lips were swollen from biting them.

"You okay?" he asked.

She nodded. Didn’t say anything. Just nodded, her chest still heaving.

He looked down.

Her pussy was even more swollen now, flushed a deeper pink, glistening with arousal and the evidence of her orgasm. Wet enough that it had started to run down slightly, a thin trail on her inner thigh.

Then his eyes moved to his own cock.

Still hard. Still ready.

The head flushed dark red, almost purple, a thick bead of precum forming at the tip and threatening to drip.

’Time to change everything.’

"You’re wet enough," he said, his voice low. "Time to get started."