The headboard cracked rhythmically against the wall, the sound barely muffled by the obscene luxury wrapped around them. High-rise penthouse, floor-to-ceiling windows, silk sheets rumpled and damp with sweat, the faint scent of sex and expensive perfume heavy in the air.
Elira Holloway—wife of Ethan Holloway, CEO of HollowTech—was pinned beneath him, her body flushed, marked, trembling as Karl Crescent drove into her with brutal precision. Her manicured nails scraped uselessly against the headboard, every sharp thrust driving her higher, dragging breathless moans from her painted lips.
"Keep still," Karl's voice cut through the haze, low, dangerous, trained in the fires of discipline few civilians could comprehend. His hand fisted in her copper-red hair, yanking her head back, baring the long, elegant line of her throat.
She gasped, eyes rolling back, body arching to meet him. "Harder," she rasped, voice frayed with hunger, desperation, defiance all tangled together.
Karl didn't deny her the right, not in the bedroom. He shifted his grip, the calloused pads of his fingers pressing bruises along her hip, keeping her right where he wanted—caught between pain, pleasure, and power.
His body was a map of old scars: battlefield reminders etched into lean muscle, reminders of a life spent fighting for men like her husband—men with money, suits, and morals as flexible as steel in fire.
"This," Karl growled, driving into her with a punishing rhythm, "isn't affection. You bought this."
Elira's laugh cracked, short, wrecked, her body writhing beneath him as she pushed herself onto every hard stroke. "And I'll keep buying," she gasped, trembling under his control, the faintest shimmer of sweat beading along her spine.
The polished glass windows reflected the scene in faint silhouette: his frame towering over hers, dark eyes cold, face carved with hard lines and stubble, black hair matted with sweat, his military bearing never slipping.
Elira had paid well for this meeting—her husband's dirty secrets traded for rough discipline, whispered threats wrapped in moans, the quiet brutality only a former soldier turned mercenary could deliver.
She wasn't weak. She was drowning in the power exchange, loving every mark, every bruise, every degrading whisper Karl fed her between thrusts.
"Talk," Karl ordered, slowing his pace, grinding deep enough to make her cry out, her limbs trembling from exertion.
"Drive," she choked out, fingernails raking along his back, already marked with faint crescents from earlier. "Under the bed—coded. His offshore accounts, tech specs, black market orders—all of it."
Karl's smirk was sharp, cruel, entirely professional, "Good Girl ~". The rhythm resumed—harder, faster, calculated to leave her wrecked and breathless as he chased his own release.
When her climax hit, it was raw, unrestrained, tearing through her with a strangled cry. Her body clenched, quaking under the force of it, hips grinding helplessly into his.
Karl followed seconds later, burying himself deep with a final growl, tension wracking his frame, discipline cracking just enough to ride the edge of euphoria before reeling it back.
The room fell into heavy silence, broken only by their ragged breathing.
Karl pulled free, cool detachment slipping back into place as he stood. His body gleamed with sweat, muscles taut beneath the faint marks of Elira's fingernails.
She collapsed onto the bed, weak, flushed, satisfied, a lazy smirk curling her swollen lips.
Evidence of their deed dripping from her damp swollen folds, as she struggled to catch her breath.
He found the drive under the bed—a sleek, encrypted device, heavy with damning information. Payment delivered as promised. Only after confirmation did Karl soften his attitude, and caress her trembling curves, "That's my slut." He says softly making sure she's truly alright before moving on.
Elira lit a cigarette with trembling fingers, watching him dress with hooded eyes. "Next time," she rasped, voice raw, "bring cuffs."
Karl only smirked, sliding the drive into his coat, boots silent on polished marble as he exited.
---
The rain battered against the pavement as Karl approached Hollow Aegis headquarters—a monolith of glass and steel wrapped in security, where men like him traded blood for paychecks.
He handed over the drive at the secure intake. The tech barely glanced at him, slotting the device into a console. The data lit up, lines of code and transaction logs pouring across the screen.
"Payment received," the tech muttered, handing Karl an envelope—a sealed assignment packet.
Karl opened it, eyes narrowing as he read.
Eidolon Gate. Full-dive operation. Target: Danielle Veil. Primary objective: establish proximity, build trust. Secondary objective: extract Sovereign Protocol access codes.
He exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening.
"Never touched VR," Karl muttered, voice low.
"Time to learn," the tech replied flatly.
Before Karl could respond, footsteps echoed behind him. A familiar, cocky voice followed.
"Guess they finally got tired of you breaking skulls the old-fashioned way," teased Mason Briggs, Karl's old squadmate from their military days. Briggs was built broad, with close-cropped hair, a weathered face, and that same half-smirk he'd worn through every gunfight and ambush they'd survived.
"This your new handler?" Mason nodded toward the tech, earning an eye-roll.
Before Karl could speak, a smaller figure slipped between them—Lena Voss, petite, strawberry blonde, with sharp blue eyes that danced with mischief. Her combat uniform clung to a frame built lean and wiry, her voice laced with dangerous sweetness.
"You're really going under?" Lena's fingers brushed Karl's arm possessively, her gaze simmering with something darker than just teasing affection. "First time in full-dive… Daddy," she added under her breath, voice dipped low for only him.
Karl's expression didn't change, but his jaw flexed.
"It's an assignment," Karl stated, glancing between them. "Just another op."
Mason chuckled, clapping Karl on the shoulder. "Sure, until you fall into the harem trap like the rest of those poor saps." He eyed Lena knowingly. "Or maybe you already have."
Lena's smirk widened, lips brushing Karl's ear. "Better you than them."
Karl's eyes burned with cold resolve.
Time to dive in.