10x God-Tier Stealing System: Pumping S-Rank SuperHeroines Daily!-Chapter 172- Brainwashing Ytrisia to Allow Harem

Chapter 172: Chapter 172- Brainwashing Ytrisia to Allow Harem

Just a smooth, wet-looking sheen stretched over a raw, inviting shape.

And yet, when he finally looked back up to her face, his eyes were soft again. Full of a deep ache, masking the primal hunger. Acting as if he was genuinely torn. As if he didn’t want to touch her, but absolutely needed to.

"You always carried everything so damn gracefully," he said quietly, his voice a sultry murmur. "Like your incredible body wasn’t specifically made to drive a man completely mad. But it does."

Her breath hitched sharply in her throat.

’Say something. Push him away right now. You’re not his weakness. You were just his convenient choice. And he broke you.’

But she didn’t move an inch.

Cruxius stepped a little closer. The small gap between them practically vanished. He didn’t touch her body again—not yet—but she could feel the intense, radiating heat coming off his skin.

"I never wanted anyone else to matter to me the way you did," he confessed softly. "But I foolishly thought... if I drowned myself in other women’s beds, maybe I’d finally stop craving you. It didn’t work. It only made me hate myself more."

Ytrisia looked down, unable to hold his intense gaze. Her fingers curled slightly against his firm chest, still resting over his racing heart.

’He’s saying everything perfectly right. He always did. But it’s his wandering hands I remember. Not on me. On them.’

Still... her lush body stubbornly refused to pull away.

Cruxius’s fingers gently brushed over her knuckles. "You’re still so quiet," he noted gently. "Do I make you nervous now?"

She shook her head once in denial. Then, slowly, she nodded the truth.

A faint, breathtaking smile touched his lips—not wide, not his usual smug grin. Just a soft, sad curve. "I’ll move slow. Only if you truly want me to."

Then he lifted his free hand—agonizingly slowly—and gently brushed her flushed cheek with the back of his warm fingers.

The latex covering her body was cold, but her skin was burning hot underneath. The stark contrast made her shiver visibly.

"You feel absolutely everything, don’t you?" he murmured, stepping into her space. "Even when you try so hard not to show it."

His large hand slid down to cup her sharp jaw, just holding it tenderly, his thumb resting gently just below her plush lower lip.

"I really missed that about you."

Then, he leaned in for a kiss.

Not on her parted lips. Just a soft press on her forehead. Barely there. Incredibly gentle. And then again—a soft kiss planted on her temple.

He didn’t force her. He didn’t rush the moment. He just kissed her skin like she actually meant something precious to him.

’Should I stop this?’

But her body... it moved on its own.

She let him gently guide her, step by slow step, backing her toward the bed in the corner.

It wasn’t even a real, proper bed. Just a wide, velvet-padded surface built directly into the stone corner, soft enough to comfortably sink into. The room stayed perfectly quiet, bathed in the still, moody purple light.

She sat on the edge first, looking deeply uncertain.

He immediately followed, dropping gracefully to his knees right in front of her spread thighs—his dark eyes never leaving her face.

He leaned in, his warm lips meeting her chin. Then her long neck. Slow, wet kisses. Pausing deliberately between each one like he was reverently memorizing her taste.

She didn’t stop him.

Her gloved fists clenched tightly around the edge of the padded bed beneath her, the thick latex squeaking faintly against the velvet. Her voluptuous body was completely tensed, her heart beating so loud it roared in her ears.

Then, he looked up at her from his knees.

His large hands came up to rest lightly on her thick, latex-clad thighs.

"Can we..." he whispered, his voice incredibly close now, his hot breath brushing directly against her parted lips.

"Can we make this night beautiful?"

Cruxius didn’t even wait for her to formulate an answer.

He just moved.

He reached up and took her hand again, his warm fingers wrapping securely around her wrist—not tight, not forceful, just... incredibly deliberate.

He guided her hand upward first, bringing it to his face. He gently brushed her latex-covered knuckles against his soft lips, kissing the sensitive inside of her wrist. Soft and agonizingly slow, his hot breath trembling against her skin like this single touch meant everything to him.

Then, he lowered her hand.

He dragged it down over his broad chest, over his flat stomach, until her palm met the thick ridge of his slacks—and there it was.

Thick. Rock hard. Angrily pulsing.

Even with the heavy fabric in the way, there was absolutely no mistaking the impressive shape. The scorching heat of it radiating through the cloth. The eager way it pressed firmly into her palm like it was a living, breathing thing, visibly twitching under her touch.

She yanked her hand back like she had been burned. Her voice came out sharp and breathless. "What are you doing?"

But he didn’t flinch or look ashamed.

He just looked up at her from between her knees. A soft, devastating little smile was playing on his lips—not mocking, not arrogant—just a slow, deeply aching curve that cut straight through her defenses.

"You felt it, didn’t you?" he murmured, his voice a low, rough purr. "You didn’t even touch me properly. Just looking at how beautiful you are... this thing is practically trying to rip my pants off on its own."

Her breath caught sharply. Her plush lips parted, but no sound came out.

She blinked rapidly, her chest heaving.

’No. No, don’t make this physical reaction about me. Don’t put that heavy weight on my conscience. You don’t get to twist this lust into my fault.’

But her violet eyes betrayed her, dipping back down to his lap. Her tingling fingers still remembered the searing heat, the immense pressure, the violent throb of his length straining through the cloth.

Then, still on his knees, he leaned forward.

His broad chest pressed firmly into the V of her spread legs, slow but incredibly firm. Her heavy breasts flattened under the sudden pressure as she leaned forward to brace herself, still trapped tightly in the latex, feeling incredibly soft and huge against the hard, unyielding plane of his body.

The shiny suit squeaked loudly in the quiet room.

His thick cock—still rock hard, still heavily pulsing—now rested directly against the sensitive junction of her thighs. It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t shy.

She could feel absolutely everything.

Even through the thick latex suit, even through the heavy fabric of his pants—it was undeniably there.

The heavy, throbbing weight of it. The blistering heat. The impressive, blunt shape pressing against her.

It was a hard line of heat. An angry pulse. A raw, demanding need.

Her thick thighs tensed and clamped inward without her meaning to, trapping him there.

The shiny latex pulled taut between her legs, hugging every single swollen curve of her pussy, cutting a sharp, glistening, and deeply obscene line right down the center of her mound.

She simply stared down at him, completely frozen in the heat of the moment.