I'm the Villain, But the Heroines Keep Choosing Me-Chapter 111: (R18) Stolen Moments II

Damien increased his pace again, driven by her words and the way her body was responding – inner walls clenching around him, her breathing getting faster, the flush spreading down her chest.

"Close," she warned. "I’m already close – you feel too good – "

"Then come," Damien said, one hand moving between them to find her clit. "Let me feel it."

His fingers worked the sensitive bundle of nerves in rhythm with his thrusts, and Elara made a sound that was almost a sob – pleasure overwhelming, building toward the inevitable peak.

"Damien – I’m – I can’t – "

"Yes you can," he encouraged, his own control starting to fray from the sensation of being inside her, from watching her come apart.

"Come for me, Elara. Right now."

She did.

Her orgasm hit with visible force – her whole body tensing, inner muscles clamping down on him so tightly it almost hurt, her mouth opening in a silent scream as waves of pleasure crashed through her.

Damien kept moving through it, drawing out every sensation, making sure she felt everything. His fingers didn’t stop working her clit, prolonging the climax until Elara was shaking, oversensitized, pushing weakly at his hand.

"Too much – can’t – "

He relented on her clit but didn’t stop the thrusts, working her through the aftershocks. She was beautiful like this – completely undone, flushed and trembling, her usual composure shattered by physical pleasure.

When she finally came down, collapsing back against the desk with a breathless laugh, Damien slowed but didn’t stop.

"You didn’t finish," Elara observed, her voice still unsteady.

"No," he agreed.

"Can’t have that." She pushed herself back up to sitting, her legs still wrapped around him. "Keep going. I want to feel you come inside me."

The words sent a spike of arousal through him. He resumed his previous pace, chasing his own release now, using her body for pleasure in ways that would be selfish if she wasn’t clearly enjoying it.

Elara watched his face with satisfaction, her hands stroking his chest, his arms, wherever she could reach. "That’s it," she encouraged. "Use me."

"Elara – "

"I love watching you lose control," she continued, her voice carrying intimate knowledge. "The way your eyes get distant, the way you stop thinking and just feel. You’re always so calculated. But this – " She clenched her inner muscles deliberately, making him groan. " – this is just you, just us. Pure feeling."

Her words combined with the sensation were too much. Damien felt his climax building, pressure coiling at the base of his spine, his movements becoming less controlled.

"Close," he managed.

"Good. Come inside me. Fill me. I want to feel it."

That pushed him over the edge. His orgasm hit hard, pleasure spiking through his entire body as he spilled inside her, his hips jerking with each pulse. Elara held him through it, her legs tight around his waist, her hands gentle on his back.

When he finally stilled, breathing hard, she pulled him down for a kiss – soft this time, affectionate rather than heated.

"Thank you," she murmured against his lips.

"For what?"

"For taking out time for me even when you’re so busy. For letting me have this before we go back to saving the Empire." She smiled. "I needed the feeling of how wonderful we are together."

Damien felt something warm in his chest that had nothing to do with the recent orgasm. "I did aswell," he agreed.

They stayed like that for a moment longer – him still inside her, her legs around his waist, both of them catching their breath and existing in the comfortable intimacy of the aftermath.

Then reality reasserted itself.

"We should clean up," Elara said reluctantly.

"We probably should," Damien agreed, carefully withdrawing. The loss of contact made them both wince slightly.

Elara slid off the desk, her legs a bit unsteady. Damien’s release was already starting to leak down her thighs, and she made a small sound of amusement.

"We made a mess," she observed.

"You asked for it," Damien pointed out, but he was already retrieving a cloth from the desk drawer, dampening it with water from the pitcher on the side table.

He knelt in front of her, carefully cleaning between her legs with gentle touches. Elara watched with an expression that mixed affection and residual arousal.

When she was clean, Damien stood and cleaned himself more perfunctorily. They dressed in comfortable silence, helping each other with fastenings and adjustments, restoring their appearances to something presentable.

The scattered papers and maps needed to be reorganized. They worked together, rebuilding the intelligence layout on the desk, erasing the physical evidence of what had just occurred.

By the time Seria’s footsteps sounded in the hallway ten minutes later, they were both dressed, the study was restored, and they were ostensibly reviewing attack patterns like nothing had happened.

Seria entered without knocking, took one look at them, and smiled knowingly.

"You two have the distinct appearance of people who just had sex," she observed.

Elara’s face flushed. "We were just – "

"Reviewing intelligence," Seria finished. "Of course you were. That’s why Elara’s hair is mussed, Damien’s shirt is buttoned wrong, and there’s a very suspicious flush on both your faces."

"Your shirt is buttoned wrong," Elara told Damien, who looked down and realized she was right.

He fixed it without comment while Seria laughed.

"You guys," Seria said, moving to join them at the desk. "I could use some stress relief myself."

"We have two hours before evening patrol," Elara offered.

"Later," Seria decided, though her eyes lingered on Damien with clear intent. "Right now, we should actually review this intelligence. The Emperor is counting on us to stop an attack we can’t definitively locate."

"Right," Damien agreed, forcing his mind back to tactical mode. "The five high-probability targets. We were discussing coverage patterns."

They spent the next hour finalizing their plan – who would monitor which location, how they’d coordinate if the threat materialized, contingencies if the intelligence was wrong.

Professional. Focused. Exactly what they needed to be.

But Damien couldn’t help noticing how Elara kept catching his eye with small smiles, or how her hand would occasionally brush his when reaching for documents. Small touches that reminded him they were more than just neccesary partners.

[TIME UNTIL POTENTIAL ATTACK: 72 hours]