Her chest was heaving, every breath seeping out with a slow moan as she remained seated at the edge of the bed.
Her naked form was bathed in sweat, small droplets sliding between her massive meat buns and pooling around the flabby stomach. Her hair was disheveled and thighs still trembling with aftershocks.
She couldn't remember if she had ever felt even a fraction of what she has just experienced now.
With her mate, she had tried copulating more than seven times ever since they got together but none of those times she felt as thrilled and pleased as she was feeling right now.
Every time Luke touched her, his fingers, his grip on her body, his movements...it left her breathless and aching.
She couldn't understand her own body. Why was she releasing so much fluid even though the one touching her wasn't her mate.
She was scared of this sensation but the euphoria was too intoxicating to stop him
She has already reached the peak of pleasure thrice by now. The bedsheet was damp in the area, and her cunt was soaking wet.
Luke stood before her and said, "Well, that was nice, wasn't it?" He asked with a grin, "You are finally releasing all your pent up desires."
Dalia glanced at him. Her anger and complaint were all gone. All Luke saw was a sexy woman currently drunk in pleasure.
He drew closer to her and licked his lips.
As his fingers traced her labia, she trembled and said, "I-Isn't it over? I have released a lot already?"
Luke shook his head, "No, no. You have a lot more to offer. It will take almost a week for you to completely recover and every single day, at least four releases are needed."
Her eyes widened, "S-Seven days...?"
Luke nodded and slowly inserted his fingers into her baby hole once again, "Now, shut up and let me do my work."
Dalia's breath hitched instantly—sharp andshaky—and her thighs jerked inward on reflex before she forced them wider again, surrendering to the inevitable.
"Shhh," he murmured, voice low and almost gentle, though the gleam in his eyes was anything but innocent. "Just feel it."
Two fingers curled upward, stroking that soft, ridged patch inside her that made her spine bow. A long, broken moan tore from her throat. Her hips rolled helplessly, chasing the pressure even as her mind screamed that this was wrong, that she shouldn't want it this badly.
Her massive breasts heaved with each ragged breath, nipples still painfully tight and flushed dark from earlier attention. Sweat glistened in the valley between them, trickling down with each shake. Every time his palm grazed her clit on the inward thrust, a fresh tremor ripped through her.
Luke watched her face the entire time—watched the way her lips parted, the way her brows pinched in helpless pleasure-pain, the way her pupils had eaten nearly all the color from her eyes.
Then he changed the angle.
He pressed the heel of his free hand firmly against her lower abdomen, just above her pubic bone, bearing down with steady, unyielding pressure. The heel pinned her swollen clit indirectly while forcing her G-spot even closer to the surface, trapping the sensitive tissue between his curling fingers and the firm resistance outside.
Dalia's whole body locked.
"Luke—wait—ahhh—!"
He didn't wait.
His wrist snapped faster—short, brutal, piston-like strokes that slapped wetly against her soaked entrance. The sound was obscene, rhythmic, unmistakable. Her cunt clenched violently around his fingers, trying to push him out and pull him deeper at the same time.
Her moans turned into high, fractured cries.
"Too—too much—Luke—!"
The pressure on her pelvis increased. His arm flexed, grinding that heel down harder, compressing everything inside her in a way that made stars explode behind her eyelids.
Her thighs began to shake uncontrollably. Her toes curled so hard the muscles in her calves cramped. Her hands flew to the sheets, twisting the already-ruined fabric into knots.
And then it hit.
Her back arched off the bed like she'd been electrocuted. A raw, animal scream ripped out of her—half sob, half plea—as her pussy spasmed violently around his fingers. A hot, clear gush erupted, splashing against his wrist, his forearm, the already-drenched sheet beneath her. It kept coming—pulse after pulse—each one forcing another broken wail from her throat.
Luke didn't stop.
He kept the same ruthless tempo through her squirt, fingers hooking and dragging, heel grinding, until her hips bucked so hard she nearly threw him off balance. Only when the gushing slowed to weak, rhythmic trickles did he finally ease the pressure on her pelvis—but he didn't pull his fingers out.
He simply slowed, letting her ride the long, shivering aftershocks.
Dalia collapsed backward, chest heaving, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes—not from pain, but from the sheer overwhelming intensity. Her whole lower body twitched and fluttered, little after-pulses still rippling through her walls where his fingers remained buried.
She couldn't speak. Could barely breathe.
Luke leaned over her, lips brushing the shell of her ear.
"Good work. Convince your mate to request my visit tomorrow again or forget about this pleasure."
He wiped his hands in the sheet and soon left the room.
Just outside, Lex was dozing off on the dining table.
Luke smirked at the man and didn't say anything.
Truth be told, he was actually too hard right now to talk. He had been pent up for two days now and he wanted to release some heat.
He first checked on his mother who was already asleep and then made his way to the backside of his house.
'Haah...only my dear sister could help me now.'