Strongest Incubus System-Chapter 263: Busy Night (R-18)

The candlelight danced softly and hypnotically on the walls as Morgana closed the final distance between them. Her fingers, which had barely touched the fabric of the robe, now tightened around the silk belt, pulling it with deliberate firmness, but without haste. The knot loosened with a soft whisper.

"You talk too much," she murmured, her voice a tone lower, laden with a promise that warmed the already hot air of the room. "And I've waited long enough."

Damon couldn't resist. He let the robe's flaps open, revealing skin still slightly flushed from the warm bath. Morgana's gaze swept over him, from his shoulders to his waist, and he saw the appreciation, the restrained hunger, glisten in her eyes the instant before she rose on tiptoe and stole his next word with a kiss.

It wasn't a gentle or exploratory kiss. It was an affirmation. Her lips moved against his with a disarming confidence, a mixture of possession and offering. Her fingers dug into his damp hair, pulling her head down for a better angle, and Damon responded with equal intensity. His hands found her waist, feeling the warmth of her skin through the black lace of her lingerie, pulling her against his body. The height difference was pronounced, but she fit perfectly, her curves molding to his form.

She broke the kiss, breathless, her lips glistening in the candlelight. "Much better," she whispered, before her mouth trailed down his chin, along his neck, her teeth lightly grazing the skin on his wrist. A shiver ran down Damon's spine. His hands moved up her back, finding the intricate clasp of her lingerie. He undid it with a deft movement, and the fabric fell, revealing Morgana's breasts. She arched her back in an instinctive movement, offering herself, and he didn't hesitate. Her mouth found one nipple, and her tongue and lips worked while her hands squeezed and caressed the other. A low, husky moan escaped her throat, her hands tightening around his shoulders.

"Lazy," she breathed, her fingers sliding across his skin, down his chest, across his abdomen, until they found the erection pressing against him. Her touch was firm, exploratory, and Damon groaned against her skin. She pushed him back toward the bed, and he yielded, feeling the edge of the soft mattress against the back of his thighs. Morgana pushed him to sit up and then knelt on the thick carpet between his open legs.

Her eyes, dark and bright, met his as her hands caressed his thighs. "Let me see," she whispered, her voice a thread of silk. "Let me taste what I've conquered." And then she leaned down, and her warm, wet mouth enveloped him.

Damon let out a guttural sound, his hands instantly burying themselves in her dark hair. The sensation was intense, overwhelming. Her tongue was skillful, insistent, exploring every inch with a mixture of lascivious curiosity and absolute domination. She controlled the rhythm, slow and deliberately at first, then faster, deeper, reading every tremor, every gasping breath of his like a map. Damon threw his head back, his eyes closed, his stomach muscles clenched. The sight of her, kneeling, completely focused on him, her body curved in a graceful and deadly seductive line, was almost more than he could bear.

"Morgana…" he growled, a warning, a plea.

She released him with an audible 'pop,' a thread of saliva connecting her lips to his for an instant before breaking. Her eyes were dark with triumph. "Impatient?" She stood, her sock-clad legs dragging over his as she climbed onto the mattress, pushing him down onto his back. She rode him, not taking him yet, but rubbing against his erection, the dampness of her black panties creating a delicious and torturous friction. She leaned forward, her breasts swaying close to his face, and he lifted his head to capture a nipple in his mouth again, his hands gripping her hips, guiding her movement.

"Do you want it?" she whispered, breathless, her hips moving in slow circles.

"You know I want it," he replied, his voice husky.

"Then ask."

Damon opened his eyes, meeting her gaze. The teasing, the playfulness, was still there, but beneath it was a seriousness, a need that mirrored his own. "Morgana," he said, each word loaded. "Please."

A victorious and genuine smile curved his lips. She stood up enough to pull aside the thin fabric of her panties, positioning herself. And then, with her gaze fixed on his, she lowered herself.

It was a slow, deliberate take, swelling inch by inch. They both let out a simultaneous moan, a sound of perfect filling, of fitting together. She stopped when he was fully inside her, her internal muscles contracting around him in a pulsating wave, her eyes closed, her head tilted back in ecstasy. Damon watched her, marveling. The candlelight gilded her skin, highlighting the sweat already forming a thin layer on her cleavage. She was stunning.

Then she began to move.

Her rhythm was methodical at first, a controlled rise and fall that drove them both to the brink of madness. Her hands were firm on his chest, her nails digging lightly. Damon gripped her hips, helping, deepening each thrust. Her breathing became a series of short gasps and muffled moans that echoed in the silent room, mingling with the low grunts he could no longer contain.

The position shifted naturally. With one fluid movement, Damon rolled over, reversing their positions, pressing her against the sheets. Morgana let out a small cry of surprise that turned into a moan of approval as he buried himself deeper inside her. He propped himself up on his arms, looking down at her face. Her hair was spread out like a dark halo, her lips were swollen and parted, her eyes were dark and unfocused, fixed on him.

"Better?" he growled, increasing the pace, his thighs slapping against hers.

"More," was all she could manage to say, her legs wrapping around his waist, her heels pressing into his back, pulling him closer, deeper.

Damon obeyed. The outside world vanished. The mansion, the mission, the enigmatic system with its countdown—everything dissolved into their heat and sweat and sounds. There was only the primal rhythm of their bodies coming together, the sensation of her around him, inside him, her scent – ​​a mixture of expensive perfume, candle wax, and pure desire. He kissed her again, a sloppy, wet kiss, and she returned it with equal ferocity, biting his lower lip.

He felt the tension in her increase, her muscles tightening like a fist around him, her moans becoming higher-pitched, more uncontrolled. "Damon… I…" She couldn't finish. Her body arched violently, a tremor running through her from head to toe. Her cry was muffled against his shoulder, his fingers digging into her back with a force that would surely leave marks.

Seeing her collapse, feeling the powerful contractions around her, was the final spark for Damon. With a final growl, he buried himself deep one last time, his own explosion of pleasure ripping from him like a wave, leaving him trembling, his weight collapsing onto her before he quickly rolled to the side, pulling her with him.

Their panting breaths echoed in the room, damp and warm, mingling with the soft crackling of the candles. The air was thick with the scent of sex, sweat, and melted wax. Morgana lay on her side, the curve of her back still trembling from residual spasms, her skin glistening with sweat. Damon watched her, his chest rising and falling rapidly, desire already reborn like an ember blown by the wind.

He didn't wait for her to recover. His hand slid down her back, rough and possessive, to the curve of her hip, then slid into the cleft of her buttocks. A hoarse moan escaped her as his middle finger found the still-wet, relaxed opening of her previous entrance, but he didn't stop there. He pressed, not forcefully, but with clear intent, and she arched her back with a breathless sigh.

"Again?" she murmured, turning her head on the pillow, her dark, vivid eyes meeting his. "Insatiable."

"You started it," he replied, his voice a rough growl. Before she could respond, he rolled her onto her stomach. A small "uh!" of surprise escaped her as he placed his hands on her shoulders, pressing her against the sheets. He knelt behind her, his thighs parting her legs. The sight was obscene and beautiful: her, on her knees, the backs of her thighs still trembling, the pink, swollen entrance glistening in the candlelight.

He used neither saliva nor oil. His own moisture, mixed with hers, was lubricant enough. With one hand on her waist, he positioned himself and, with a firm, single movement, buried himself in her from behind.

"GRRAH!" The groan escaped them both at the same time. A guttural sound, a mixture of pain and pleasure, torn from the sudden, deep filling. Morgana buried her face in the pillow, a long, shrill moan "AAAAAHHHHN!" muffled by the fabric. Her fingers gripped the sheets, her knuckles white.

Damon didn't give her time to adjust. He began to move, and this time there was no method, no control. It was pure instinct, raw friction. His thighs slammed against her buttocks with a wet, repetitive sound – SMACK… SMACK… SMACK… – that became the primal beat of the room. Each thrust was accompanied by a hoarse groan from him – "Uhn! Uhn! AH!" – and a loud, broken whimper from her – "Ow! Ow, God! Damon! AAAI!"

He bent over her, his torso pressing against her back, one hand entwining in her hair and pulling her head back, exposing her neck. His teeth sank into the joint of her shoulder, not a gentle bite, but a marking, and she cried out, a sharp, raspy sound that turned into a moan of pure submission. "Yes! Like that! Fucking like that!"

Their rhythm was chaotic, frenetic. She thrust her hips back, meeting each of his thrusts with equal force, the impact of their bodies creating a sound of flesh against flesh that was both violent and erotic. Sweat trickled down Damon's back, dripping onto her spine. The air was hot, heavy, almost difficult to breathe.

"Turn around," he growled, pulling her by the hair.

She obeyed, staggering, turning onto her back. Her face was flushed, her lips swollen, her eyes wild. He lifted her, without letting go of her, and sat against the headboard, pulling her onto his lap, facing him. She fell onto him with a dull thud, and the "OOOMPH!" that escaped her was followed by a deep "GUUH" moan as he buried himself fully inside her, the new angle hitting something so deep that her eyes rolled back.

"My… my God," she stammered, her hands clutching her face. "There… you're touching there…"

He responded with a sharp upward thrust of his hips, and she screamed, her head throwing back. "AH! AH! THAT'S IT! THAT'S RIGHT!"

Damon gripped her hips, lifting her and letting her fall, using gravity to increase the force of each thrust. The sound was now a muffled, repetitive THUD, accompanied by her syncopated moans: "Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!" Each impact made her breasts bounce violently, and he captured a nipple in his mouth, sucking and nibbling as he continued to fuck her mercilessly.

Their language had degenerated into pure animal sounds. His grunts were short and explosive: "Gh! Fuh! Nah!" Hers were loud and desperate, a cascade of "Ow! Ow! Ow! Yes! Fuck! More!" that no longer formed coherent words. The bed creaked in protest, its wooden frame groaning in unison with them.

He felt the familiar tightness inside her, the muscles beginning to vibrate and contract like a vise. "Go…go come again?" he growled against her skin.

She could only shake her head, panting, her hair plastered to her face with sweat. Her body betrayed the answer before she could speak. A violent tremor ran through her, and her moan turned into a continuous, hoarse scream, "AAAAAAARRRGH!" that seemed to tear her throat. Her nails dug into his back, and she contracted around him with almost painful force.

That was enough. Damon buried his face in her neck, a final, deep, guttural growl, "RRRAAGGGHHH!" escaping him as he held her in place and exploded inside her, his own discharge drawn out by brutal spasms. Her body trembled uncontrollably, the muscles of her back and thighs in a throbbing state. They collapsed together, a pile of trembling limbs and sweaty skin. For long minutes, the only sound was their panting breath and the crackling of the candles.

The room was devastated, the sheets twisted and damp, the air thick and heavy.