Lust Sync: Every Woman Wants Me Now-Chapter 34: The Synchronization

The room pulsed with a heat that wasn’t just from the broken air conditioner. The penthouse felt like a furnace, thick with anticipation and the weight of impending change. Charles stood shirtless before the floor-to-ceiling window, his silhouette carved against the sprawling cityscape below. Neon lights flickered across the hard lines of his chest and shoulders, painting him in shades of electric blue and burning amber. His hands pressed against the glass, fingertips leaving brief impressions in the condensation that formed from the contrast between the sweltering interior and the cool night beyond.

His thoughts swirled—not with doubt, never with doubt—but with the razor-sharp anticipation of a predator sensing its moment. The city stretched out beneath him like a circuit board, all those glittering points of light representing lives, desires, weaknesses he could exploit. Tonight wasn’t just another night. Tonight would reshape everything he’d built, everything he’d become.

Behind him, the soft rustle of silk whispered across marble floors. He didn’t need to turn to know who approached. Her presence was magnetic, pulling at something primal in his chest. Astrid moved like liquid shadow, her bare feet silent against the cold stone. She wore nothing but strategically draped silk that seemed to flow around her curves like water, revealing glimpses of pale skin that glowed in the ambient light. Her silver hair cascaded over one shoulder, and her lips curved in that dangerous way of hers—the smile that had brought men to their knees and women to their beds.

She pressed her fingers along the ridges of his spine, tracing each vertebra with deliberate slowness. Her touch sent electricity shooting through his nervous system, the Lust Sync amplifying every sensation until his skin felt like it might ignite.

"You’re restless," she whispered, her breath hot against his shoulder blade. Her body molded against his back, silk and skin creating delicious friction. "Something’s coming. I can feel it in the air, in the way your muscles coil beneath my touch."

Charles turned slowly, his movements predatory and controlled. His eyes had darkened to the color of storm clouds, and when he spoke, his voice carried the weight of absolute authority. "Not something. Someone."

Astrid’s grin deepened, revealing the hint of sharp canines. Her fingers traced patterns across his chest, following old scars and new muscle. "Then let them come. They’ll break themselves against you like waves against stone."

The moment shattered with a knock—sharp, urgent, demanding. The sound cut through the thick atmosphere like a blade, and Charles felt the shift immediately. Whatever was coming had arrived.

Charles answered the door shirtless, unbothered by his state of undress. Power was its own clothing. On the other side stood Zara, and she looked like she’d been through hell. Rain had plastered her dark hair to her skull, and her mascara had run in dark streams down her cheeks. Her coat hung open, revealing a red dress that clung to her like a second skin, the fabric so saturated it was nearly black in places. Water dripped from her fingertips onto the pristine marble, each drop echoing in the sudden silence.

"I did something," she said, breathless, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her green eyes were wild, pupils dilated with adrenaline and something else—fear, maybe, or rage. "And now we have a problem."

From behind Charles, Astrid’s voice carried a note of amusement mixed with territorial warning. "You bring problems to our bed now, Charles? How delightfully dramatic."

But Zara ignored the other woman entirely, her gaze locked on Charles with laser focus. "It was Vincent. He cornered me outside The Gilded Thorn after the charity auction. Said he knows everything about Lust Sync—the real algorithm, the government contracts, the classified trials."

Charles’s expression didn’t change, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. His voice was deadly quiet. "How much does he know?"

"Everything." Zara stepped inside without invitation, leaving wet footprints on the marble. Her hands shook as she pushed damp hair from her face. "He hacked a government archive—showed me classified files on his phone. He knows about your bond count, your sync depth, the psychological profiles. And he’s going public in two days."

Astrid laughed, the sound like breaking glass. "He won’t live two hours once word reaches the right people."

But Charles didn’t smile. His mind was already racing, calculating angles and possibilities. "We can’t be reactive anymore. Defense is for the weak. We take the fight to him."

Zara stepped deeper into the room, water still dripping from her coat onto the marble. She was trembling, but not from the cold—Charles could see the fury radiating off her in waves. Her fists clenched at her sides.

"He tried to touch me, Charles." Her voice cracked with rage. "Put his hands on me like he owned me, like he thought he could break what we have apart piece by piece. Said I was just another one of your toys, that he could make me see reason."

Something dark and primal snapped in Charles’s chest. The protective instinct that Lust Sync had amplified roared to life, flooding his system with territorial fury. He closed the distance between them in two strides, taking her face in his hands with surprising gentleness despite the violence burning in his eyes.

Then he kissed her. Deep, possessive, claiming. His mouth moved against hers with desperate hunger, and she melted into him immediately, her hands fisting in his hair. Behind them, Astrid watched with fascination rather than jealousy—this was pack behavior, and she understood the dynamics at play.

"You’re mine," Charles growled against Zara’s lips, his voice rough with emotion and promise.

"Always," she whispered back, her green eyes blazing. "From the first sync."

"Then we destroy him."

Three hours later, they were gathered in the inner sanctum—Charles’s private meeting room where only the most trusted were allowed. The space was all black marble and deep shadows, lit by floating orbs that cast everything in shades of amber and gold. Lilith sat in the corner like a dark queen, draped in her obsidian gown that seemed to absorb light. Her fingers were wrapped around a glass of blood wine, the liquid dark as midnight. Ivy lounged on the leather couch with predatory grace, her legs draped across Layla’s lap as she licked whipped cream off her finger with deliberate slowness. The energy in the room was electric, charged with anticipation even before Charles spoke.

"Vincent is going to leak everything," Charles announced, his voice cutting through the ambient tension. "Lust Sync, the algorithm, our government connections, our rise to power. He has classified data that could destroy everything we’ve built."

Lilith’s head tilted like a serpent’s, her dark eyes glittering. "Then he dies. Accidents happen all the time in this city."

"Not yet," Charles said, raising a hand. His smile was slow and lethal, the expression of a man who had just seen all the pieces fall into place. "We don’t hide from this. We give him a show."

Zara’s voice was sharp with curiosity. "What kind of show?"

Charles’s grin widened, and the room seemed to hold its breath. "A public rebirth. A demonstration so powerful, so beautiful, that it outshines any scandal he could manufacture. A full synchronization ceremony."

The room went dead silent. Even Ivy stopped her teasing, her tongue frozen against her finger.

"You mean the full sync?" Ivy breathed, her voice husky with sudden desire. "All of us? In front of everyone?"

"Yes. With all of you. In public. Raw and unfiltered."

Layla choked on her wine. "That’s suicidal. The government regulations alone—"

But Lilith stood, excitement blazing in her eyes like dark fire. "That’s divine. That’s evolution."

Charles looked at each of them in turn, his gaze intense enough to make them shiver. "If we do this, there’s no turning back. It won’t just be about pleasure or power. It’ll be about transformation. Unity. The world will see what Lust Sync really means—not degradation, but transcendence."

Astrid purred from her position by the window. "Then let them watch. Let them see what gods look like."

The preparations began immediately.

The location was perfect: the Eden Dome. Once an abandoned sports arena in the warehouse district, it had been converted into a temple of pleasure and power where the city’s elite came to indulge their darkest fantasies. Now it would serve a higher purpose—redemption through revelation.

By the next evening, word had spread through the underground networks like wildfire. Hushed whispers in exclusive clubs, encrypted messages on private forums, viral posts hinting at something forbidden and transformative happening at Eden Dome. Lines stretched around three city blocks. Inside, velvet ropes were pulled aside for the chosen few, and every camera in the city seemed to point their lenses toward the converted arena.

Backstage, in the preparation chambers, the women moved like priestesses preparing for a sacred ritual. They were draped in silk, leather, and liquid desire itself. Each had chosen attire that reflected their essence—Lilith in obsidian that made her look like a dark goddess, Ivy in emerald that brought out her predatory grace, Astrid in silver that made her seem otherworldly, Layla in gold that highlighted her warmth, and Zara in crimson that matched the fire in her eyes.

They circled Charles like devotees preparing their deity, each touch deliberate and charged with power.

Lilith pressed her lips to his collarbone, her voice a whisper of silk and shadow. "They’ll worship you after this. Build temples in your honor."

Ivy whispered in his ear, her breath hot and promising. "Some already do. I’ve seen the forums, the fan sites."

Astrid bit his neck lightly, just enough to leave marks. "The rest will kneel before we’re finished."

Layla and Zara stood close together, the tension that had existed between them finally giving way to something deeper—shared purpose, shared hunger, shared devotion to the man who had awakened something transcendent in all of them. Their eyes met, understanding passing between them like electricity. Then both turned to Charles with expressions of absolute surrender and fierce determination.

The lights in the main arena dimmed to near-darkness.

The show began.

Charles stepped onto the obsidian stage that had been constructed in the center of the dome. Spotlights blazed to life, turning him into a figure of light and shadow. The audience—thousands strong now—went completely silent. The air itself seemed to vibrate with anticipation.

Behind him, the women appeared one by one, emerging from the shadows like manifestations of different aspects of desire itself. Each embodied a different kind of sin, a different kind of salvation. Lust and wrath, envy and devotion, pride and surrender—all the contradictions of human nature made flesh.

Charles spoke, his voice amplified and carrying to every corner of the dome.

"You were told this was unnatural," he began, his words cutting through the silence like a blade. "That syncing with another’s desire was dangerous, degrading, wrong. But what if danger is just another word for power? What if surrendering to your deepest nature is the only path to true victory?"

The crowd gasped as Zara stepped forward and knelt before him, her movements graceful and deliberate.

"I offer myself," she said, her voice trembling with hunger and reverence. "Body, mind, and soul."

Lilith followed, her obsidian gown pooling around her like liquid night. "I surrender my pride to something greater."

Then Astrid, silver silk sliding from her shoulders. "I bare my truth for all to witness."

Each woman took her place around Charles in a careful formation, creating a ritual circle born not of shame or desperation, but of purpose and transcendence.

And then the synchronization began.

The sound that filled the dome wasn’t pornographic or crude—it was primal, ancient, the sound of consciousness expanding beyond its normal boundaries. Every breath synced across the group. Every pulse aligned. The Lust Sync wave activated and rippled outward from the stage, washing over the audience in concentric circles of shared sensation.

The audience wasn’t just watching anymore. They were feeling it, experiencing echoes of the synchronization themselves. Some gasped, others moaned, many simply stared in awe at what they were witnessing.

On stage, sweat glistened on skin like liquid starlight. Silk and leather fell away like shed inhibitions. Every touch became a spark of visible energy. This wasn’t mere performance—it was magic made manifest, transformation witnessed by thousands. freeweɓnovel~cѳm

Charles’s eyes blazed crimson with power, his body charged with energy that made the air around him shimmer. The women glowed like goddesses, their synchronized breathing creating harmonics that seemed to resonate in the very bones of everyone present.

And in the shadows of a private booth high above the arena floor, Vincent watched with trembling hands.

He had come to witness his enemy’s downfall, to see Charles humiliated and exposed. Instead, he was seeing the birth of something that transcended his understanding. His plan to expose them had not just failed—it had become irrelevant.

Because this wasn’t scandal.

This was beautiful.

This was power incarnate.

And the public was falling in love with it.

His fingers hovered over his phone, over the "upload" button that would release all his carefully gathered evidence. But then his screen lit up with an incoming notification.

[INCOMING TRANSFER - UNKNOWN SOURCE]

He tapped it with shaking fingers.

Images flooded his screen. Videos. Documents. All of him. With minors he’d paid to keep quiet. With illegal neural implants he’d used to hack protected systems. Financial records showing bribes, blackmail, worse things than he’d ever imagined having documented.

A single message followed the data dump:

"Try it. We dare you. See who the public believes when this evidence surfaces."

His hands shook so violently he nearly dropped the phone. His empire, his reputation, his very freedom—all undone in an instant.

And then, through his paralysis and terror, he heard his booth door open behind him.

A shadow stepped inside, blocking the light from the corridor.

Vincent turned, mouth opening to scream or plead or both.

And the screen went black.