Champion Of Lust: Gods Conquer's Harem Paradise!

"I… want it…" she breathed, hips rolling helplessly against him, the words almost drowned in the heat between her thighs. Her eyes fluttered open, red irises glowing beneath half-lidded lashes, locked onto his. "Like that. Just like that."

Pyris smiled, a dark, dangerous curve of his lips.

He kissed the side of her neck, teeth grazing the delicate artery, breath hot. "Then beg properly next time, vice-CEO."

He squeezed again—this time firmer—dragging another whimper from her throat as her fingernails raked lightly down his back.

The office's silence was gone now, replaced by breathless sounds and the faint creak of leather and fabric as their bodies collided, teased, aligned.

And neither of them had yet removed the rest of their clothes.

But they would.

Oh, they would.

His lips hovered near her jawline, whispering heat with every breath. His hands still molded her curves like clay, sculpting every reaction from her hips and thighs with a grip that knew her form too well now.

Then—with reverence and restraint that made the moment feel like ritual—he began undressing her.

His fingers found the top clasp of her dress, and with one clean flick, it loosened. The fabric didn't fall immediately; it clung, as if reluctant to part from her body. Pyris leaned back just far enough to look at her, his corrupted golden-pink aura flickering like wildfire behind his eyes.

"Let me see you," he murmured—not a demand, but a vow.

Esmeralda didn't answer with words. She only nodded once, shakily, her chest rising, trembling beneath his gaze.

The dress slipped.

It slithered down her body in slow surrender—past her shoulders, down the lines of her ribs, until it caught at her hips, exposing her fully from the waist up.

Her breasts were bared now, soft and proud, crowned with tight, blushing peaks. His breath caught at the sight—divine or not, corrupted or not, she was stunning. The kind of beauty that made mortals kneel and monsters forget how to breathe.

Pyris didn't waste the moment.

He kissed one, then the other—long, slow kisses like he was pressing oaths into her skin. His tongue flicked one nipple, lips wrapping around the other, sucking gently but deeply, tasting the heat rising through her chest.

Esmeralda's head fell back, a ragged moan spilling from her lips as her thighs involuntarily clamped around his waist.

Her nails scored down his back again, trying to tether herself to the moment as the corrupted aura coiled around her nerves.

Then his hand found the waistband of her panties—already soaked, fabric clinging tight and damp against her. With a slow, deliberate tug, he pulled them down over her hips, letting them slide to the floor like a final surrender. Nothing stood between them now.

She whimpered.

The panties dropped to the floor like a whispered secret, pooling at her ankles as she stepped out of them.

He didn't look away once. His eyes drank in every revealed inch—the curve of her hips, the smoothness of her inner thighs, the sheen of arousal between them, catching the office light like molten silk.

"Look at you," he murmured. "Do you even know what you're doing to me?"

She tried to answer, but all that came was a breathless sound, barely human.

Then he scooped her up again—strong arms beneath her thighs and back—and turned toward the bar counter.

Each step was a sentence. Each breath was a paragraph of hunger held barely in check.

When he laid her down on the cold stone, she gasped aloud—shivering at the contrast between her burning skin and the unyielding chill beneath her.

Pyris watched her reaction, then climbed up with her, one knee pressing beside her waist, the other straddling low enough to cage her body beneath his.

He didn't touch her yet.

Not again.

He hovered.

Then, slowly, inch by inch, he lowered himself, beginning at her lips.

He kissed them soft. Then her chin. Her throat.

His corrupted breath left a trail of heat, and his mouth followed it, over her chest again, between her breasts, over her belly, her hips, the curve where thigh met heat.

Esmeralda moaned—hopeless, helpless, her voice shaking as her hands clutched at his back, trying to pull him closer or hold herself still—she didn't know which anymore.

Her body was already trembling, lit by his corrupted aura and clouded in pink-gold light, as his lips carved a path over every bare, sacred inch of her.

And he never rushed.

Because worship demanded patience.

Because Pyris didn't just want to taste her.

He wanted her to remember every second of it.

"Take me, Pyris," she begged. She'd already been broken by the foreplay and was ready for him to take her to uncharted territories.

Pyris smiled. Unlike what I'd expect, Esmeralda was experienced in everything—but she was still pure AF.

Pyris hovered above her before he kissed her again. She was already wet as it is. He kissed her down to her stomach and just shoved his face into her crotch. He could feel the heat radiating down there—ready for him.

Slowly, he lowered deeper and lower. His lips found the open gates of the wet cave.

SLRP...

"Gosh, you smell like temptation and lust~" he whispered. He had already tasted this before, but another time wouldn't hurt—and now, with the panties off, she was even better.

He took a long sniff.

"Hnnn... Mmmh~"

"No... this will be wasted on my tongue." To her excitement, with a wave of his hand, his clothes disappeared—and there he stood. Perfect sin, something any woman would readily accept to commit without hesitation.

She breathed hard. The being that stood before her was a literal god—no, no god would be this perfect. He knew what was going on in her mind as he stood atop the counter, letting her eyes feast on him before her pussy did.

"It's a gift for your eyes. You'll have it for eternity… and so will your core." He knelt down again and positioned himself between her legs.