Villainess Marked For Her Alpha-Chapter 106: How Far Will I Fall?
Emily had conked out on Ivory’s lap earlier that morning after a relentless phone gaming marathon, her plush frame gone limp and utterly trusting—raven waves splayed wild across Ivory’s shoulder like spilled, emerald eyes fluttered shut in peaceful exhaustion.
Yesterday post-dialysis, they’d strictly nixed ice cream when she sneezed three times rapid—nose dripping clear, eyes watering red and puffy—low immunity demanding no risks, her fragile system still purging Karimoike shadows.
Besides, Reyes and Hellen refused to indulge Emily’s wish—when Ivory the reason, they told her that Emily ate ice cream—the stick one—by giving a literal ’blowjob’ to it.
This made Ivory a bit jealous as she wanted to see Emily’s ’blowjob’ too.
Afternoon sun slanted golden and lazy through the mansion studio’s tall windows now, casting warm pools on the drafting table where Emily had dozed off mid-design—pencil loose in her pink-polished fingers, tip hovering over a half-sketched pet tutu flourish.
Cute full lips parted soft and inviting in slumber, glossy exhales fogging faint the sketchpad edge; she wore nothing but an oversized white t-shirt draping to her knees like a skimpy dress
Her thin white panties the only underlayer—legs bare and splayed casual from the heatwave’s sticky grip, milky thighs gleaming faint sweat-sheened, hem riding up teasing to flash lace edges clinging damp to her curves.
Ivory eyes narrowed instant with raw hunger at those parted glossy lips—tempting pink slit begging invasion.
"Blowjob...? Will she suck on my finger too?"
"I can try, can’t I? Her lips are practically inviting me to insert my finger into her mouth." It wouldn’t be too much, right? Just a finger... nothing more than Emily’s capacity.
Impulse overrode restraint; she stepped close, thick callused finger tracing Emily’s lower pout feather-light before sliding slow and deliberate past plush barriers—tip brushing velvet tongue warm, knuckle-deep now in wet heat.
Emily moaned subconscious low and throaty—pure bliss vibrating ’round the digit—instant instinct kicking in as her tongue curled tentative at first, flat lapping experimental along the salty pad, then swirling deliberate circles ’round the thick girth, cheeks hollowing faint suction like nursing a pacifier.
"Fuck! They were correct in their assessment. Goddamn, look at her! She’s sucking on it as if it’s a candy."
Drool pooled quick at the corner of her full lips, glistening trail escaping to wet Ivory’s skin as sucking deepened—lips sealing plush-tight around the base, bobbing micro in sleep with fervent pulls, tongue flicking underside vein rhythmic, humming moans escalating soft and needy from her throat.
Ivory’s pants tightened vicious instant, alpha bulge straining fabric tent painful—rut spiking volcanic-hot from the slick, eager wet heat enveloping her finger, free hand gripping chair arm white-knuckled till wood creaked.
Emily squirmed tiny in sleep, hips twitching micro-grinds needy against Ivory’s thigh; small hands wrapped with sudden possessiveness around Ivory’s wrist—pink nails digging light holds—sucking harder vigorous now, head tilting instinctive for deeper angle, tongue undulating fervent waves like worship, pulling slurps audible wet, drool slicking chin glossy.
"Argh, are you kidding me? What does she think of my finger?"
The friction built electric—Emily’s core lifting faint instinctive, grinding slow circles on Ivory’s muscled thigh through damp panties, heat seeking pressure as t-shirt hem bunched higher exposing lace clinging translucently.
Ivory groaned ragged deep from her chest, chili pheromones flooding the room thick and heady like molten spice—her broad thumb stroking Emily’s flushed cheekbone reverent and trembling, teetering on a razor’s edge of control.
One fracture in restraint, and feral alpha instinct would erupt—pinning her down, marking that milky neck with claiming bites and bruises, rutting raw into her body, slick heat without mercy or memory, knot locking deep till she swelled bred and broken.
"Honestly, I really want to rut her and make her belly swollen with my children—that’s what my alpha instincts say."
"But I can’t do this without her consent." For Ivory, consent must be given to her before she did anything extreme with the woman on her lap.
Gritting teeth, Ivory pulled her thick finger free slow and deliberate—wet pop resounding slick and obscene as Emily whimpered subconscious loss, lips chasing empty air glossy, drool trailing shiny down her chin to dampen the sketchpad.
Scooping Emily’s limp plush frame bridal-secure against her heaving chest, Ivory carried her swift down the hall to the master bedroom—raven waves lolling soft t-shirt rucked high exposing sweat-damp thighs.
She laid her tender on crisp silk sheets, thumbs hooking the soaked white lace panties—peeling them down milky legs deliberate, revealing pink slit glistening aroused, folds puffy-slick and parted faint from dream-need, clit peeking swollen.
"Should I touch it? It’s looks so good as if it wants to be filled..."
"No, what the heck am I thinking? Control yourself, Ivory!"
From the wardrobe, Ivory fetched an identical fresh panty—sliding them up slow reverent, fabric whispering snug over her core, cupping heat modestly.
"Okay, let’s change her t-shirt too."
The oversized t-shirt clung sweat-wet too, translucent over curves; Ivory stripped it off careful, her breasts spilling free rosy-nipples and heavy before dressing her in a clean, loose sleep shirt—light cotton draping soft to mid-thigh.
Leaning down possessively, Ivory kissed her mouth deep and claiming—lips sealing parted pout lingering, tongue flicking brief to taste lingering sweetness—then cheek warm nuzzle, nose burying raven strands.
"Emily, you don’t even know how much I want to make you my wife."
"Don’t worry—you will become my wife, get pregnant with my kids, give birth to them, nourish them, take them to school... and the process will continue. I need at least seven children from you."
"But for now, the kiss will suffice."
AC hummed alive on low chill, pillows propped fortress-like around her sleeping form—bolstering sides and feet safe.
Ivory exhaled shaky, palming her strained bulge aching, and slipped out—door clicking quiet, battle won raw but fire smouldering eternal.
"I am feeling like a teenager now. To masturbate? And at this age?" Ivory wasn’t someone who masturbated frequently, even though she knew how to. She always thought it to be unnecessary until today.
"Emily, you are making me do this."
"How far will I fall?"
