Dreamwalker: Reign of the Heavenly Sovereign!-Chapter 39

The silence stretched, cut only by the soft buzz of city lights outside the penthouse windows.

The woman on the bed trembled, the remnants of her scream caught in her throat. Her mouth worked soundlessly as she stared at the bloodied youth standing beside her, drenched in gore, blades humming softly in the thick air. She didn't recognize him—yet something about his presence stirred her deep within.

Then came the voice.

"Mama."

From behind Oliver, the schoolgirl stepped forward. Her shoes were soaked, leaving little crimson footprints on the velvet carpet. Her eyes were glassy with tears that didn't fall, her lips trembling.

The woman gasped. Her body jerked upright as the girl broke into a run, stumbling past Oliver without hesitation and throwing herself onto the bed.

"Mommy!" she sobbed, clutching the older woman tightly.

The woman's eyes widened. Her hands moved hesitantly, uncertain, until they brushed the girl's cheek. Recognition hit her like a thunderclap.

It was her daughter. Older. Thinner. Haunted.

"Kaori...?" she whispered. Her voice broke. "Kaori!"

They cried together, a storm of emotion crashing over the plush bed, sobs muffled against skin.

But the moment didn't last.

Oliver moved.

His footsteps echoed with finality as he turned, his face unreadable. The blades vanished—Qi dismissed. But his eyes burned with the afterglow of his technique, with something raw, something too much for this world.

He reached down. Grabbed the girl by the collar.

"No!" the mother shrieked, too late.

Kaori was flung off the bed. She crashed to the floor with a dull thud, the breath knocked from her lungs.

But she didn't scream. She didn't even blink.

She lay there, trembling, a strange flush spreading across her pale skin. Her limbs twitched, not in pain—but as if overcome by something else. Her eyes fixed on Oliver, and her mouth parted slightly, breath ragged and confused.

"Kaori!" her mother tried to move, but Oliver was already there—towering over her, skin still glowing with the lingering burn of his Yang Qi.

"Don't touch her!" She barked, slapping his chest. But her hand stuck. Her pupils dilated.

The Yang.

It radiated off him in waves, thick and orange, not just warmth but want. Her breath caught. Her thoughts scattered. She tried to pull her hand away—but her fingers curled instead. Her cheeks flushed. Her body betrayed her.

"I..." she gasped.

Oliver's gaze pierced her, unblinking.

And then he leaned forward.

Their lips met.

She tried to resist. Her body trembled under his touch, her muscles locking, straining. But the Yang corrupted resistance. It sank into her like molten honey, loosening everything—her fear, her shame, her control.

Her mind screamed, but her body...

It drowned in heat.

His hands found the sash of her robe—silk sliding against silk as he untied it. The fabric fell open, revealing her naked body beneath—her curves soft and inviting in the dim light.

She whimpered against his mouth—her hands clutching at his shoulders now, not to push him away but to pull him closer.

He didn't need any more invitations.

His hands roamed her body—cupping her breasts, squeezing them gently before moving down to grip her hips.

She gasped as he lifted her effortlessly onto his lap—her legs straddling him as he sat on the edge of the bed.

His hardness pressed against her—hot and insistent through his school uniform pants.

She moaned—a sound that sent shivers down his spine—and began grinding against him.

He growled in response—a low rumble that vibrated through his chest—and tore at his pants.

She helped him—her fingers fumbling but eager—as they pushed his pants down just enough.

Then she reached between them.

Her hand wrapped around him—a soft gasp escaping when she felt how hard he was—and guided him towards where she needed him most.

He looked into her eyes—their faces inches apart—as she slowly lowered herself onto him.

Her breath hitched as he filled her—their bodies joining with a soft moan from them both.

She began to move—not slow or gentle but with a hunger that matched his own. Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly as their bodies rocked together.

"Oh god," she gasped.

He didn't respond—not with words anyway. His hands gripped her hips tightly—as if he could pull her even closer—and thrust upwards to meet each of hers.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room—not loud enough to drown out their moans but enough to add another layer of intensity.

The girl—Kaori—watched from where she lay on the floor. Her eyes were wide and unblinking—as if she couldn't look away. Her body trembled, her breath coming in short gasps—but it wasn't fear or disgust driving those reactions.

It was something else entirely.

Oliver didn't notice—or if he did, he didn't care. All that mattered was the woman riding him—the heat of their bodies joined together—the raw power coursing through his veins—and the primal need to claim and bend this woman to his mercy.

He leaned forward—catching her mouth with another brutal kiss—and flipped their positions without breaking stride.

Now he was above her—in control again—and there would be no stopping until they had both found release.

Her nails raked down his back as they continued, toes curling into sheets beneath them, as pleasure built within each stroke.

Her eyes fluttered open, the haze of lust momentarily lifted. She looked up at Oliver—at the wild beast he'd become—and panic surged through her.

"No," she gasped out weakly. Her hands pushed against his chest—a futile attempt at resistance. "Stop... please."

But he didn't stop.

He growled—an animalistic sound that sent shivers down her spine—and thrust harder.

She cried out—her body betraying her as it arched into him despite the fear coursing through her veins.

"Please," she whimpered again—but there was no pleading left in those words.

Oliver leaned down—a snarl twisting his lips—and bit hard into the flesh where neck met shoulder.

She screamed—the pain sharp but fleeting as it morphed into something else entirely.

Her body convulsed beneath him—as if every nerve ending had been set alight—but still he didn't stop.

He fucked her like an animal—his hips slamming into hers with brutal force—as he marked her as his own.

She tried to fight—to push him away—but it was no use.

His Yang energy coursed through her veins now—not just an aphrodisiac but a drug that bound them together in this twisted dance.

She could feel everything—the heat of their bodies joined together, the slickness between her thighs, the way they fit perfectly despite the violence behind each thrust.

And then there was Kaori...

The girl lay on the floor nearby—her breath ragged as she watched them fuck with wide-eyed hunger.

Oliver hadn't forgotten about her either....

With one hand gripping his lover tightly around the waist while continuing to pound into her mercilessly, he reached down towards where Kaori lay trembling.

He grabbed hold of those young breasts roughly over her clothing before squeezing hard enough for tears to begin welling at corners yet not enough for them to spill forth.

Kaori gasped at his touch—her body arching into his hand despite herself. Her eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Her mother's cries of pleasure filled the room—each thrust from Oliver echoing through their bodies like thunder—but Kaori couldn't look away.

She watched as he manhandled the woman she'd once called 'Mama'—watched as his fingers dug into soft flesh hard enough to leave marks—and felt something dark stir within herself.

It was wrong—to watch like this—to feel these things—but she couldn't stop.

Her body responded to every movement Oliver made—as if they were connected somehow—and when he pinched her mother's nipple hard enough to make her cry out, Kaori felt a jolt of pleasure between her own legs.

"Oh god," she whimpered softly—not loud enough for them to hear over their own grunts and moans.

Her hand moved on its own accord—slipping beneath the hem of her skirt until it found that wetness between her thighs.

She gasped at the first touch—the sensation overwhelming—as two fingers began moving against themselves with increasing urgency.

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It was wrong. It was sick.

But she couldn't stop.

Not when Oliver looked so wild—so powerful—as he claimed her mother as his own.

Not when every movement sent waves of heat coursing through Kaori's veins—the same Yang energy that had filled the room now filling her too.

She bit down hard on her lip—to stifle any sound that might escape—and let her eyes flutter closed as her fingers moved faster.

She could feel it building—the pressure inside her growing with every thrust Oliver made into her mother's body.

And then—

"Oh god!" she cried out—her body convulsing as pleasure washed over her in waves.

She came hard—her fingers still moving against herself as if they had a mind of their own—and slumped back onto the floor, panting heavily.

But even through hazy post-orgasm bliss, she couldn't look away from the sight before her.

—

Oliver leaned down, his breath hot against the woman's ear as he continued his relentless pace.

"You belong to me now," he growled. His voice was thick with lust and power.

She whimpered, trying vainly to push him away with weak hands.

"No... please..." Her voice trailed off into a moan as he hit just the right spot.

He chuckled darkly, knowing full well she was powerless against him. His Yang energy coursed through her veins like wildfire, binding them together, making her his puppet.

He grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand. She struggled briefly before giving up—her body limp and pliant beneath him.

His other hand moved to grip the headboard, using it for leverage as he increased his pace—each thrust harder and deeper than the last.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room—their moans and grunts intertwining in a symphony of debauchery.

The woman thrashed underneath him—her body trying desperately to escape the overwhelming pleasure—but there was nowhere for her to go. She was completely at his mercy.

Oliver could feel it building inside him—that primal urge that demanded release—but he wasn't ready yet. He wanted more from this woman.

With one final thrust, he pulled out—leaving her gasping and empty.

"No!" she cried out—her body arching towards him—but he was already moving.

He flipped her over onto her stomach and yanked her hips up until she was on all fours. She tried to crawl away, but his hand on the back of her neck held firm.

"Where do you think you're going?" He sneered before slamming back into her without warning.

She screamed—a sound muffled by the sheets beneath them—as he began fucking her like an animal again. His hands gripped tight around those soft hips while pulling hard against that slender waist with each powerful stroke.

The woman's body shook uncontrollably beneath him—the pleasure was too much to bear—but still Oliver didn't stop.

He could feel the heat building inside them both—that undeniable force pushing them closer and closer to release.

And when they finally came together...

It would be explosive.

Their bodies glistened with sweat—each movement slick against the other—as they raced towards that inevitable climax.

The woman clawed at sheets beneath them—her cries muffled by fabric pressed tightly against her mouth—but Oliver didn't care about any noise she made now.

All that mattered was this moment—the heat between their bodies, the way they fit together so perfectly, the raw power coursing through every vein.

His grip tightened—their flesh reddening under pressure—and he growled low in his throat as he felt himself nearing that edge.

"Come for me," he commanded roughly.

And with those words...

They both tumbled over—their bodies convulsing with release—as wave after wave washed over them.

They collapsed onto the bed—a tangled mess of limbs and sweat—and lay panting heavily side by side.

But even amidst post-coital bliss... Oliver knew there would be no rest tonight.

Not until every inch of this pair of mother and daughter had been claimed—not until they truly understood what it meant to belong only to him.