Demonic Dragon: Harem System-Chapter 832: Equality, huh? (R-18)

Strax approached the bed slowly, his steps almost silent on the thick carpet covering the bedroom floor. Beatrice didn’t flinch an inch. On the contrary, her blue eyes remained fixed on him, following his every movement with a curious mixture of challenge, expectation, and a growing tension reflected in her slightly quickened breathing. He stopped at the edge of the mattress and leaned over her, placing his hands on either side of her body, trapping her between his arms without actually touching her yet, as if creating an invisible frame around her.

"Quality time, you said," he repeated, his voice lower now, laden with an intimacy that made the air between them feel heavier. "You want my undivided attention, Beatrice? No distractions? No... interruptions?"

She raised her chin with that characteristic dignity she always carried, but the rhythm of her breathing already betrayed the effect of the closeness. Even so, her voice came out firm.

"That’s what I said."

Strax tilted his face even further, bringing it closer to her ear. His lips didn’t touch immediately, but the warmth of his breath slid across the skin of her neck, sending a slight shiver down her spine.

"So you have her."

Before Beatrice could respond, his lips finally touched her skin. It wasn’t a gentle or careful kiss, but something more decisive, almost a silent affirmation. His mouth pressed against her neck with enough intensity to draw a low sound from Beatrice’s throat, something between a sigh and a muffled protest. Her hands instinctively rose to his shoulders, her fingers gripping the firm muscles as if needing to anchor themselves there.

Strax moved his lips slowly along the line of her neck, up the curve of her jaw until he found her mouth. When he finally kissed her, there was no delicacy in the gesture. The kiss was deep and demanding, charged with an intensity that seemed to contain weeks or perhaps months of accumulated tension. Beatrice didn’t hesitate to reciprocate. Her hands slid into his hair, intertwining her fingers in the dark strands as she pulled him even closer.

For a few moments, the world seemed to shrink to only the sound of their breathing and the growing heat between their bodies.

When Strax finally broke the kiss, his dark eyes slowly scanned her face, absorbing every detail of the expression that now mixed irritation, desire, and something deeper.

"Equality," he murmured.

His hands moved down to the dress Beatrice was still wearing. The elegant fabric contrasted with the firmness of his fingers as he gripped the neckline. Without hesitation, he pulled down with enough force to tear the material. The dry sound of the fabric giving way echoed through the room.

Beatrice arched her back involuntarily as the cooler air touched her newly exposed skin. Her golden hair spread across the pillows as she breathed deeper, her chest rising and falling with increasing intensity.

Strax leaned down again, now kissing her neck. His lips followed the natural curve of her skin, descending a little further, lingering on each point as if exploring something precious. Meanwhile, his hands finished undoing the rest of her dress, tearing the remaining fabric until it ceased to be any kind of barrier between them.

Beatrice was now practically naked, with only her thin underwear against her skin. Her breathing was uneven, and her fingers dug into his hair, sometimes pulling lightly, as if torn between impatience and pleasure.

"Strax..." the name escaped her lips in an almost pleading tone.

He responded by silencing her with another kiss. This time even deeper, more intense. His tongue met hers as he pressed her against the pillows. The weight of his body descended upon hers, firm and warm, and Beatrice could feel every defined line of his muscles against hers.

Instinctively, her legs moved, wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer.

Strax broke the kiss again, but only to begin tracing her body with his lips. His touch descended across her chest, the center of her abdomen, slowly moving to the curve of her hip. Each kiss seemed calculated to provoke a reaction, to elicit another sigh or a soft moan from her.

Beatrice no longer tried to hide her reactions. Small sounds escaped her lips as her hands gripped the sheets or returned to his hair, as if she needed to maintain some kind of control over that intensity.

When his lips reached the inside of her thigh, she visibly shuddered.

Strax paused there for a moment.

He looked up at her, still kneeling between her legs, his eyes fixed on her face.

"Is this what you want?" he asked, his voice hoarser now. "My attention... like this?"

Beatrice met his gaze without looking away. Her blue eyes were darker, filled with desire and a vulnerability rare for someone so accustomed to maintaining absolute control of herself.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice softer now, trembling slightly. "Everything."

That was encouragement enough.

His fingers slid across her underwear, tearing the delicate fabric effortlessly. The soft sound of the material yielding was quickly forgotten when his touch finally found exposed skin.

The next instant, Beatrice let out a louder moan as pleasure hit her with unexpected intensity. Her body reacted immediately, her hips arching off the mattress as her hands moved down to his head, holding him there.

The sensations came fast, strong, and relentless, waves that coursed through her entire body, giving her no room to recover. When she finally reached her climax, her whole body trembled before collapsing back onto the pillows, completely breathless.

Strax slowly climbed up her body again.

When their lips met, the kiss was slower, deeper.

And there was one detail impossible to ignore.

Her taste still lingered on his lips.

Strax broke the kiss, his dark eyes scanning Beatrice’s face as she still breathed heavily, her eyes half-closed, her body relaxed but still tense with the echoes of her orgasm. He propped himself up on his elbows, his body still heavy on hers, and watched as her breasts rose and fell rapidly.

"All?" he repeated, his voice a low growl. "Are you sure?"

Beatrice opened her eyes fully, the blue now hazy, but still intense. She didn’t answer with words. Instead, her hands slid down to his waist, her fingers finding the zipper of his pants. She unbuttoned them with firm movements, unhurried but without hesitation. Strax allowed it, watching her with a mixture of curiosity and approval.

When she finally freed him, Beatrice enveloped him with her hand, her touch firm and confident. Strax let out a guttural sound, his abdominal muscles contracting. He was hard, hot, and heavy in her hand.

"You asked me for equality," she whispered, gently pulling him toward her. "So take it."

Strax needed no further invitation. He positioned himself between her legs, still open to him, and with a slow, deliberate movement, began to enter. Beatrice held her breath as the tip of his penis found her entrance, already sensitive and moist. He paused there, just his head inside, his eyes locked on hers.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice hoarse.

Beatrice obeyed. Her blue eyes met his dark ones as he began to push, inch by inch, entering her with an almost torturous slowness. She arched her back, a low moan escaping her lips as she adjusted to his width, his length, the sensation of being completely filled.

When he was finally fully inside, they both lay still for a moment, breathing together. Beatrice could feel every beat of his heart against her chest, every tense muscle in his body pressed against hers.

Then Strax began to move.

The first movement was slow, an almost complete withdrawal before a deep, firm thrust back in. Beatrice let out a gasping sigh, her nails digging into his back. The second movement was equally slow, but deeper, reaching a point inside her that made her eyes widen.

"Again," she whispered, her voice trembling.

He obeyed. His rhythm began to settle—slow, deliberate, each thrust calculated to maximize friction, to rub exactly where she needed it most. Beatrice began to move with him, her hips meeting his in a growing rhythm.

The room filled with sounds—their panting breaths, the soft creaking of the bed, the muffled moans Beatrice could no longer contain. Strax shifted the angle slightly, and she cried out when he reached a deeper spot.

"There," she moaned. "Don’t stop."

He didn’t stop. His pace quickened, still maintaining that depth that made Beatrice feel he was touching her soul. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her against him with each thrust, holding her in place as he possessed her completely.

Beatrice felt another orgasm building, deeper and more intense than the first. It was like a growing pressure in her abdomen, a delicious tension that promised to explode into something cataclysmic.

"I’m close," she warned, her voice almost unrecognizable to her own ears.

Strax didn’t slow down. On the contrary, he leaned forward, his lips meeting hers in a sloppy, wet kiss as his thrusts grew faster, harder. The bed banged against the wall now, but neither of them cared.

"Come," he growled against her lips. "Come to me."

That was enough. The orgasm hit Beatrice like a wave, starting at her center and exploding outward, making her whole body tremble violently. She cried out his name, her internal muscles contracting around him in rhythmic spasms that seemed endless.

Strax continued to move through her orgasm, prolonging the contractions until she was almost crying from over-sensitivity. Only then did he allow his own control to crumble.

With one last deep thrust, he buried her completely inside him and came with a muffled roar against her neck. Beatrice felt his warm pulse inside her, filling her even more, and a final tremor ran through her body.

For long minutes, they lay there, intertwined, panting, covered in sweat. Strax finally collapsed beside her, pulling her against his body. Beatrice rested her head on his chest, listening to his racing heart slowly calm down.

The afternoon light was now dimmer, painting the room in golden and orange hues. The air smelled of sex and sweat, and torn clothes were still scattered on the floor.

Strax ran his hand through her hair, now completely disheveled.

"Satisfied?" he asked, his voice still hoarse.

Beatrice smiled against his chest—a tired smile, but deeply satisfied.

"For now," she murmured. "But I warned you I’d want more."

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating in his chest.

"Of course you will."

She lifted her head to look at him, her blue eyes now clearer, more serene.

"And you?" she asked. "Are you satisfied?"