Through Plea, one final thought whispered from Catherine's mind—quieter than the others, more vulnerable, tinged with desperate hope that terrified her: I hope he liberates me too.

Eros heard it clearly. And the thought, so pure and raw, was the most intoxicating thing he'd ever encountered. It wasn't just lust; it was a prayer. A genuine plea from a goddess who'd forgotten she was one.

And he moved.

Just sudden invasion of her personal space that made her gasp—one moment standing by the window pretending to be composed, next moment he was right fucking there, and the Taboo Aura crashed over her like a physical wave.

It was a hot, heavy pressure that stole the air from her lungs, and in that single instant, her expensive, professional armor felt like it was dissolving, turning to mist.

A hot, slick pulse flooded her pussy, so sudden and intense she felt a fresh wave of wetness soak her panties, a damning warmth spreading through the fabric of her skirt.

The fact that she was Madison's aunt made things even more intense...

{I want to see his chest. I want to bite his jawline. I want to feel his weight on me, right here on the floor—}

"You know what a tsunami is, Catherine?" His voice dropped lower—intimate, dangerous, promising destruction she secretly craved.

She pressed back against the glass, cool surface a shock against her suddenly burning skin. "What are you—" Her words failed because her body was screaming.

Her hand shot out to grip the window frame, her knuckles white, as her knees actually buckled.

A sharp, uncontrollable inhale was the only sound she could make. Her shirt suddenly felt too tight as her nipples, traitorous things, hardened into painful, aching points, clearly visible through the silk.

"It's not just a big wave." He stepped closer, and physics seemed to bend—space compressing until she felt trapped between window and the wall of his presence radiating heat like furnace.

He didn't touch her.

The restraint was a violation in itself. Just touch me. Please, for the love of god, just put one hand on me and I'll shatter. Her hips gave an infinitesimal tilt back toward him, a slutty, unconscious prayer.

"It builds slow at first. You might not even notice it coming. Just pressure. Building. Deeper and deeper until—"

Catherine's breathing stuttered. Her thoughts were a tangled, frantic mess: {Never. Never in my life a man ever made me feel... this. This desperate. This cheap. This... alive.}

"But when it hits?" Eros leaned in closer, his breath warm against her temple, and she fought a full-body shudder that wanted to consume her. "It destroys everything in its path. Reshapes coastlines. Changes landscapes permanently. Leaves nothing the same as it was before."

{YES. DESTROY ME. RESHAPE ME. I'M SO TIRED OF BEING IN CONTROL. I WANT TO BE NOTHING BUT YOUR WRECKAGE.}

"That's what sexual starvation is, Catherine." His voice carried weight that made her legs tremble so hard she had to slap her other palm against the glass to hold herself up. "Pressure building and building with nowhere to release. Years of it. Decades maybe?"

She tried to speak. Her tongue felt thick and useless. Failed. Tried again, the professional script a distant memory. "I don't—"

{PLEASE. GOD, DON'T IGNORE ME. SEE ME. SEE HOW MUCH I'M SUFFERING. SEE HOW MUCH I WANT YOU.}

"In these very rooms?" He leaned in, and she felt his chest brush against her back—brief contact that sent electricity cascading down her spine.

A soft, broken whimper escaped her lips.

{Just a little more. Press your whole body against me. Pin me here. Take me.}

"Pretend I can't See you suffering just because you sign my paychecks? That I'll satisfy strangers while the woman who runs this empire starves in her own office?"

His breath against her neck now, and she fought a groan that wanted to tear from her throat. Her thighs were pressed together so tightly her muscles were screaming.

{STARVING. I'M STARVING. TOUCH ME. PLEASE JUST TOUCH MY PUSSY. I'M SO WET I CAN FEEL IT SOAKING MY SKIRT.}

"While she locks her door and touches herself watching videos of what I do to other people?"

Catherine's face went crimson, a sickening, dizzying wave of heat flooding from chest to hairline. "I don't—that's not—how dare you—"

{HE KNOWS. OH MY GOD, HE KNOWS. HE KNOWS I WATCHED THE WHOLE THING. HE KNOWS I CAME THREE TIMES WITH MY HAND IN MY PANTIES. HE KNOWS MY FINGERS ARE STILL STICKY FROM IT.}

"Don't lie to me, Catherine." His smile pressed against her neck—she could feel it even though she couldn't see it.

The world tilted. Horror and arousal mixed into explosive cocktail that made her want to vomit and cum at the same time. Her carefully maintained professional persona was a pile of ash. "That's impossible—"

"Is it?" He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, and what she saw there made her stomach flip. "Then tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you didn't lock this office and touched yourself. Tell me you didn't watch three hours of evaluation footage while your fingers were buried—"

"STOP." She tried to sound authoritative. It came out as a breathless, desperate, shattering plea. Her back arched involuntarily, pushing her ass toward him, a blatant, desperate offering that completely contradicted the word she spoke.

Her mind was screaming: {DON'T STOP TALKING. TELL ME WHAT YOU SAW. TELL ME HOW MUCH OF A SLUT I AM. USE THAT WORD. USE IT ON ME AGAIN.}

"—in your desperate, soaking, neglected pussy."

The word, spoken so filthily by this boy, this god, was the final blow. It was a bomb detonating in her soul.

She made a sound—a broken, animal noise of pure, unadulterated surrender that had no place in this world, let alone this office.

Her mind was gone, replaced by a screaming, looping refrain: {JESUS CHRIST, HIS MOUTH. THOSE WORDS IN THAT VOICE. I'M GOING TO CUM RIGHT HERE, I'M GOING TO CUM JUST FROM HIM TALKING—}

Catherine took steps backward—one, two, three—trying to escape gravity well of his presence. Her shoulders hit glass wall with soft thump, and she realized she'd backed herself into corner without conscious thought.

Prey instinct taking over.

But she wasn't running from him anymore. She was just trying to stay upright as the tsunami of her own desire finally crested, leaving her nothing but a shaking, desperate, utterly exposed woman waiting to be claimed.

"That's not—" Her voice cracked like an adolescent boy's, and she hated herself for the weakness. Her pulse was a frantic, trapped bird against her ribs.

{Please be right. Please don't listen to me. Please see through this bullshit—"

"If you think you can just get into my pants because I hired you, then you're wrong. Dead wrong." She tried to inject steel into her tone, tried to remember she was the one with power here.

But the words came out thin, reedy, a pathetic parody of command.

"I have no desire to fuck my employees!" The words came out too loud, too desperate, protesting too much. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, a futile attempt to stop the trembling that had taken over her entire body.

"I want him to fuck me on every surface in this office. Against this window where all of city could see. On my desk. In my chair. Against that wall. I want him to ruin me for anyone else. I want—"

He chuckled—a sound that vibrated through air between them, dark and knowing and absolutely certain of what he'd heard in her mind.

Not mocking.

Understanding.

Then he moved.

Two strides that ate distance like it was nothing, and suddenly he was there again—hands planting on glass on either side of her head with soft thump that made her flinch like a frightened animal.

Caging her against window that overlooked city sprawling below like they were gods looking down on mortal world indifferent to their drama.

The Lust Presence unfurled fully now—not gradual release but complete detonation—and she gasped as it crashed over her like a physical force.

Wave after wave of claiming energy that made her body respond in ways she couldn't control. Her pussy clenched, a hard, desperate pulse, and a fresh gush of wetness soaked her panties.

Trapped. Pinned.

Nowhere to run even if her legs would work, which they wouldn't.

He leaned down until his lips were inches from her ear, his body radiating heat that made her skin feel like it was burning, melting, transforming.

"So tell me, Catherine Reynolds..." His voice was dark velvet wrapped around steel blade. "How right was that?"

Her breath came in short, rapid gasps.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.