Genetic Ascension

Chapter 2139: A Bet (3) [Bonus]

[Bonus chapter thanks to the fucking degenerate Chrono]

A soft moan left Cassaraeʼs lips, one that echoed in Sylasʼ ears like the end of the world. There was nothing she wanted more than for it to be inside of her. But… she felt that it would be so much better if she waited.

The Duchess was yanked up off the floor by her neck and thrown onto the bed, her face practically vanishing in the softness as a palm nearly larger than her head pressed it down.

Sylas had no idea what Cassarae had done to the Duchess inside the bathroom, but as her ass arched and her lips hung high in the air, the delicate pink folds slowly separated to reveal a pulsing hole lined with dripping liquid.

The cold defiance was still on her face, but her body was speaking a very different tune. Especially when it shuddered after he pressed against her entrance just the slightest bit.

Sylas didnʼt move, displaying the patience of a saint. He knew what his wife wanted, and it wasnʼt a man who lost himself to the lust of another woman.

He reached to the side, catching Cassarae off guard as he gripped onto her neck. He pulled his wife forward, taking her lips.

Cassarae melted as the echo of a smack filled the air.

The outline of a red palm pulsed on the Duchessʼ ass. She shook from head to toe, her body involuntarily shifting back the slightest bit.

She convulsed as she slid back onto Sylas.

Cassarae melted into the kiss for exactly as long as she wanted to, which wasnʼt long at all.

She pulled back, licked her lips, and looked down at the Duchess, her body shaking as she felt Sylasʼ hands slide down between her cheeks. Just when it seemed he would slide against her own moistness, he rounded away, feeling the curve of her ass through her silky robes.

Cassarae shuddered with anticipation, her eyes light with lust as she grabbed a handful of the Duchessʼ hair.

”Look at that,” she said. ”All that pride and youʼre dripping on my husbandʼs sheets.”

The Duchess said nothing. Her jaw was tight. Her eyes were fixed on a blank space ahead, but her hips were quivering. Sylasʼ length was barely halfway inside of her, and every twitch seemed to fill her more, but she refused to make the slightest sound.

This time, Sylasʼ Lust Seed wasnʼt active, it wasnʼt overwhelming her, she wouldnʼt allow her pride to be struck down so easily.

Cassaraeʼs grip tightened and she yanked her further back. The Duchessʼ soft skin pressed and deformed against Sylasʼ hips.

No matter how hard she fought it, the moan left her beside herself, her lower belly bulging with the mass.

”Eyes open, little slut,” Cassarae whispered.

Sylasʼ hand came down again, the crispness of soft skin making the Duchess twitch again.

The Duchessʼ breath punched out of her, her moan coming out in a gasp as liquid sprayed from her lower half. Her fingers reached back and clawed against Sylas, but the ropes didnʼt give her good purchase.

”Just like that,” Cassarae said approvingly. She released the hair and ran her palm down the curve of the Duchessʼ spine instead, almost gentle. ”The first break is all it really takes.”

She glanced back at Sylas over her shoulder. He was watching her intently, every curve of her lip and seductive touch of her fingers. He seemed so very entranced by her every movement, and it only made her wetter.

The heat that moved through Cassarae at that had nothing to do with the Duchess at all. The Duchess was a prop, proof that her husband preferred her above everyone else, something that she knew now without a doubt, but also something that she yearned to watch him prove.

She shrugged the robe off one shoulder, deliberate and slow, and watched his eyes track the movement. It pulled down just far enough that a single nipple peeked through almost like a reward.

Her hands rounded her own breasts, her palm pressing against their protrusion and pulling at her sensitivity.

”I want you to break her,” she said softly.

He didnʼt need to be told twice. He didnʼt move back, instead he pressed forward until he couldnʼt see any of his lower half at all, the Duchessʼ ass melding into his pelvis, spreading and softening as he pushed further and further into her.

The Duchessʼ composure fractured. It didnʼt shatter, she was too proud for that, too built from whatever iron the blood that ran through her was made of. But the edges of it went jagged nonetheless. The sounds she made were small and furious, like she was angry at her own body for producing them. And yet, her hips moved despite herself, face pressing harder into the mattress as though in some vain attempt to escape.

And then Sylas pulled back. His hips swayed, feeling for her most sensitive corners before he drove back in.

Cassaraeʼs eyes turned misty, her grip over her own breasts strengthening to the point she may very well have left a mark on herself.

”Fight more,” she said softly, working the knot of the robe loose. Her breasts swayed free, the fabric caressing against her lower lips and giving her just the barest satisfaction. ”Youʼre so proud, arenʼt you?”

She let the robe slide off her other shoulder, exposing the plumpness of her other breast.

Sylas couldnʼt help it. His free hand moved to her waist and pulled her back against him, feeling the softness of her chest against his. His hips moved faster and the Duchessʼ eyes suddenly rolled back.

Whatever Cassarae meant to say was derailed entirely for a moment. She recovered, if barely.

”Donʼt distract me,” she managed. ”Iʼm letting a bitch know her place. She can borrow my cock, but she needs to know that itʼs mine.”

”You talk too much,” Sylas said, grabbing her ass so firmly her toes curled and a drop of clear liquid glided down her thighs.