Gabriela's body trembled beneath mine, her thighs slick with arousal, her breath coming in ragged gasps as I loomed over her. My cock throbbed at her entrance, heavy and demanding, the tip already glistening with her need.
"Take it, Auntie," I growled, my voice rough with hunger as I gripped her hip, my fingers digging into her flesh. "Take every inch of me. You've been aching for this, haven't you? Ever since you first looked at me with those hungry eyes."
A whimper escaped her lips as I surged forward, filling her in one brutal thrust. The wet, obscene sound of her body swallowing me whole filled the room, her walls clenching around my cock like she never wanted to let go. Her back arched, her nails raking down my shoulders as she cried out, her voice raw and desperate.
"Jack—! Oh God, it's too much—! I can't—! You're splitting me open—!"
"You can," I snarled, my hips snapping forward, driving into her with relentless force. "And you will. Look at you—your tight little cunt is made for this. Made to be stuffed full of my cock, to take every inch like the greedy slut you are."
Her moans were broken, her body shuddering with each thrust, her tits bouncing with the force of my movements. "No—! Jack, please! I'm your aunt—! This isn't—! Ah—! Don't stop—! Don't you dare stop—!"
I could feel her tightening around me, her body coiling, her pleasure building to something uncontrollable. "That's it," I murmured, my thumb finding her clit, circling it with just the right pressure. "Cum for me, Gabriela. I want to feel that tight cunt milk me when I fill you up."
"Jack—! Fuck—! I'm cumming—! Ah—! Ah—! It's too much—!" Her body convulsed, her walls clamping down around my cock as her orgasm crashed over her, her juices gushing around me, soaking us both.
The sight of her coming undone sent me over the edge. With a groan, I buried myself to the hilt, my cock jerking as I began to cum, thick ropes of my release pumping deep into her waiting womb.
"Take it all," I commanded, my voice a dark purr as I held her hips down, forcing her to take every last drop. "Every. Fucking. Drop."
"Ah—! It's so hot! I can feel it—! Oh God—! It's filling me up—!" Her voice was a breathless sob, her body trembling as my cum flooded her, her cunt overflowing, dripping down her thighs in thick, obscene rivulets. "No—! Jack—! It's leaking—! It's too much—!"
I pulled out slowly, my cock glistening with her arousal and my cum, watching as her used pussy gaped, my release spilling out of her in slow, heavy drips. Gabriela collapsed onto the bed, her legs shaking, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tried to recover.
"Look at you," I murmured, trailing a finger through the mess between her thighs before bringing it to her lips.
"Such a perfect little cumdump. Your womb is so full of me you can't even keep it in." She whimpered as I pushed my finger into her mouth, her tongue flicking out to taste us both, her cheeks flushed with shame and pleasure.
"Jack..." she sobbed, her thighs quivering as another gush of cum spilled out of her, "I—I pissed myself..."
A dark chuckle escaped me as I watched the golden trickle mix with my cum on the sheets. "Good girl." My hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back so she had no choice but to meet my gaze.
"Now you're truly mine. Mind. Body." My thumb pressed against her swollen lips, "Soul." I pushed it inside her, feeling my cum slosh within her, "And this..." I growled, "...fucking womb."
Her eyes fluttered shut, her body trembling as another aftershock wracked her, her cunt clenching around nothing, aching to be filled again.
"Say it," I demanded, my voice a low, possessive rumble.
"I'm yours," she whispered, her voice trembling, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure and submission. "All yours, Jack..."
A slow, dark smile curled my lips as I felt it—the shift. My Lust Demon ability had already taken root the moment my cum flooded her womb, binding her to me in ways she could never understand. Her favorability toward me wasn't just maxed out—it was absolute.
She would obey me without question, without hesitation, even if I asked her to kill her son; she would do it without hesitation.
But I wasn't a monster.
At least, not the kind that leaves obvious scars.
Her son—my obstacle—would have to go. But it couldn't look like murder. No, it had to be tragic. A cruel twist of fate that would shatter her, leave her broken, and bind her to me even more tightly than my Lust Demon ability already had.
Gabriela was still panting, her chest rising and falling in ragged breaths, but she managed to grab her bathrobe, the silk sliding over her flushed skin as she tied it loosely around her waist. The fabric did little to hide the way her nipples still pebbled beneath it, or the way her eyes darkened with a slutty, knowing look as she glanced at me.
I smirked, adjusting my cock back into my pants—though not before giving it a slow, deliberate stroke, letting her see just how hard I still was for her.
Gabriela's gaze flickered toward her son's bedroom door, her shoulders sagging in relief. "He's asleep..." she whispered, her voice a mix of guilt and gratitude. "Thank God he didn't see anything... Otherwise, what would he think?"
She pinched my waist, her fingers digging in just enough to sting. "It's all your fault."
I feigned innocence, my hand flying to my chest as if I'd been wronged. "How am I at fault?" I purred, my voice dripping with mock offense. "It's Auntie's fault... for seducing me."
Her eyes widened, her mouth parting in shock as I leaned in closer, my breath hot against her ear. "Do you really think I don't know?" I murmured, my voice a dark caress.
"It was you who took my cock out of my pants tonight. You who rubbed it against your dripping pussy on the bed, moaning like you couldn't get enough."
Gabriela's face paled, her fingers trembling as they clutched the fabric of her robe. "You... you know?"
"How could I not?" I chuckled, my fingers tracing the curve of her hip, pulling her flush against me.
"I felt every single movement, Gabriela. Every desperate little grind of your hips, every whimper you tried to stifle. I just didn't want to embarrass you..." My lips brushed the shell of her ear, my voice dropping to a whisper. "So I took the blame."
Shame flooded her features, her cheeks burning as she dropped her gaze. "Do you... blame me?" she stammered, her voice barely audible. "For being a slut...?"
In an instant, my grip on her tightened, my fingers digging into her flesh as I yanked her against me, my mouth crashing down on hers in a bruising kiss. When I finally pulled back, my eyes were dark with possession.
-x-X-x-
"You are not allowed to call yourself that," I growled, my voice a low, dangerous rumble, my fingers digging into her skin. "You're a slut..." My hand slid down, cupping her pussy, my fingers pressing just hard enough to make her gasp. "...only for me."
Gabriela's breath hitched, her body melting into mine as her resistance crumbled. "Y-Yes, Jack," she whispered, her voice trembling with submission, her dark eyes glazed with shame and lust. "Only for you..."
I smiled, pressing a final, lingering kiss to her forehead before pulling away—just enough to let the cold reality of what she'd just agreed to sink in.
I turned off the Hand of Arousal ability.
Gabriela blinked, her mind clearing just enough to realize—the wet bed, the sticky sheets, the evidence of her shame. Her face flamed with embarrassment, her fingers clutching the fabric of her robe, her body trembling with aftershocks of pleasure and guilt.
I stood up, adjusting my clothes, the morning sunlight streaming through the window. 9 A.M. The world outside was awake, unaware of the filth that had just transpired in this room.
I stepped out, leaving Gabriela behind—broken, used, mine—and headed to the coffee shop where Lorena was waiting.
Lorena sat across from me, her dark eyes sharp, curious, sipping her coffee. "What happened, Mr. Jack?" she asked, her voice laced with concern—and something darker. "You called me so early in the morning...?"
I leaned back in my chair, my gaze slowly trailing down her body, activating my AI Lens—seeing right through her clothes. A smirk curved my lips as I took in the sight of her red lace panties, clinging to her skin, damp with the heat of her own arousal.
"Oh, Lorena," I purred, my voice low, mocking, knowing. "I see you followed my advice." My eyes gleamed with amusement as I leaned forward, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Red suits you... So fucking well."
Lorena's face flamed, her fingers tightening around her cup, her knuckles whitening. "W-What nonsense—! You—You pervert—!" she hissed, her voice dropping to a furious whisper. "H-How the hell did you know—?!" Her gaze darted around the café, paranoid, humiliated.
I chuckled, my smirk deepening, dark and knowing. "Didn't I tell you, Lorena?" My voice was smooth, taunting, laced with something predatory.
"I know everything." I paused, my eyes burning into hers. "Every little secret... Every filthy thought..." My gaze dropped to her lips, lingering just long enough to make her squirm. "Every wet spot on those pretty panties of yours."
Lorena's breath hitched, her cheeks burning with shame and fury. "Y-You installed cameras—?!" she snapped, her voice trembling with rage. "In my home—? My bathroom—?!"
I didn't answer.
I just smiled—slow, deliberate, taunting.
"You monster," she hissed, but there was something else in her voice—something dark, something hungry. "You can't—"
"I can," I interrupted, my voice smooth, dangerous, cutting through her protest. "And I did." I leaned back, my gaze never leaving hers. "But right now..." My voice shifted, smooth, calculating, possessive. "We have business to discuss."
Lorena exhaled sharply, her fingers clenching her cup tighter, her knuckles white. "The case," she muttered, shaking her head as if trying to clear it. "The search and arrest warrant for Diaz, Sergio, and the others..." She paused, her gaze locking onto mine, defiant—but shaken. "It'll be issued today."
I nodded, satisfied.
Then, my voice shifted again—smooth, dangerous, possessive. "Are you free right now, Lorena?" My eyes burned into hers, dark, hungry, demanding. "Or is there anywhere you have to be?"
Lorena's breath caught, her dark eyes flickering with something unreadable—fear, lust, defiance. She knew what that question meant. She knew what I meant.
She glanced at me, her lips curving into a smirk—arrogant, challenging, playful. "That..." she said, her voice cool, mocking, but tinged with something hotter. "My dad wants to meet you."
I leaned back in my seat, my gaze trailing over her body, amused, possessive. "Okay..." I murmured, my voice smooth, unfazed, but my eyes burned with something darker. "Let's go meet him..." I paused, my lips quirking into a smirk. "Anyway... I'm free."
Lorena drove, her fingers tight on the steering wheel, her jaw set with defiance, but her thighs shifted slightly, unconsciously drawing my attention.
I sat in the passenger seat, my gaze lingering on her legs—encased in black stockings, hugging her skin, teasing the curve of her muscles, the shadow of her heat.
"Where the hell are you looking?" she snapped, her voice sharp, annoyed, but there was something else there—something hotter, something hungrier, something that betrayed her.
I didn't look away. "Your thighs," I murmured, my voice low, dark, unapologetic, my fingers tracing an imaginary line along the seam of her stockings.
"I want to see what's between them." My gaze burned into her, challenging, taunting. "I bet it's just as beautiful as the rest of you."
Lorena's cheeks flamed, her fingers tightening on the wheel, her knuckles whitening. "You are such a pervert," she hissed, but there was no real anger in her voice—just heat, just lust, just the thrill of the game. "You actually think I'd let you look—?"
I smirked, my gaze never leaving her thighs. "I don't think, Lorena," I purred, my voice dark, confident, possessive. "I know." My fingers brushed against the seat, just inches from her leg, teasing, threatening. "And you know it too."
She didn't deny it.
Instead, she shifted in her seat, her thighs pressing together just enough to make me smirk wider. "You're insufferable," she muttered, but her voice wavered, betraying her.
I leaned closer, my voice dropping to a dark, intimate purr. "Lorena..." I murmured, my breath hot against her ear, my fingers finally brushing against the hem of her skirt. "Would you be my woman?"
Lorena glanced at me, her dark eyes gleaming with challenge, but something softer flickered there—something vulnerable, something hungry. "Why?" she asked, her voice cool, calculating, but her breath hitched—just slightly.
I didn't hesitate. "Because I like your body," I said, my voice raw, honest, possessive, my gaze trailing over her curves, lingering on the way her skirt clung to her hips.
"But it's not just that." My fingers curled into a fist, restraining the urge to grab her, to pull her into my lap.
"You're different, Lorena." My voice dropped to a growl. "You're strong. Smart. Unafraid." My eyes burned into hers. "And mine."
Lorena chuckled, her voice laced with amusement—and something darker, something that sent a jolt through me. "You are really honest," she murmured, her gaze flicking to me—assessing, weighing, hungry.
"But how do I know you won't kill me?" Her lips twisted in a smirk, but her eyes betrayed her—flickering with something raw, something real. "You're a madman, Jack... A madman who can kill anyone... Aren't you?"
I didn't flinch. I didn't deny it.
I looked at her, my voice low, dangerous, possessive. "Yeah, you're right," I murmured, my eyes burning into hers, dark and unwavering. "I will kill everyone who goes against me..." My fingers flexed, imagining the feel of her throat under my hand—not to hurt her, but to claim her, to protect her.
-x-X-x-
"Or even thinks of harming my woman." My voice dropped to a growl, raw and final. "But I will never hurt my own woman." I leaned closer, my breath hot against her ear, my voice a dark whisper. "You should know that."
Lorena exhaled sharply, her dark eyes searching mine—for truth, for lies, for something real. "After I become your woman..." she murmured, her voice laced with defiance—and fear, but something else too—something hopeful, something wild.
"Will you treat me like a caged canary?" Her fingers tightened on the wheel, her knuckles white, but her voice was steady, challenging.
I shook my head, my voice firm, unwavering, possessive. "Never," I growled, my fingers brushing against the seat, imagining them tangled in her hair, pulling her close—not to control her, but to free her.
"I will never restrict you, Lorena," I said, my gaze burning into hers. "Never cage you." My voice softened, just slightly, but no less intense.
"I'll help you... In anything you want." My fingers traced an imaginary line along her thigh, teasing, promising, claiming. "Power. Money. Revenge. Pleasure." My lips curved in a dark smirk, my eyes locked onto hers—burning, possessive, unapologetic. "You want it? It's yours."
Lorena glanced at me, her dark eyes gleaming with disbelief—and something hotter, something hungrier. "Really?" she murmured, her voice laced with skepticism, but her fingers tightened on the steering wheel, betraying the thrill coursing through her.
I didn't answer with words.
Instead, I pulled out my phone, my fingers moving swiftly over the screen. A few taps, a confirmation—and done.
A notification chimed on Lorena's phone.
She glanced at it, her eyes widening as she read the message—her bank account, updated, reflecting the new balance.
"W-What... $1 Billion...?!" Her voice cracked, her fingers trembling as she nearly swerved the car. "J-Jack, what the hell—?!"
I leaned back, my voice smooth, unfazed, but my eyes burned into hers—dark, possessive, serious. "Don't think I'm trying to buy you with money," I murmured, my tone firm, final.
"This is my sincerity..." My fingers brushed against her thigh, claiming, possessive. "And if you don't want to be my woman..." I paused, my gaze never leaving hers. "Think of it as your salary as my lawyer."
Lorena stared at me, her dark eyes wide, shocked—not just at the amount, but at the ease with which I threw it away. "Y-You're really making it difficult for me to refuse..." she whispered, her voice shaky, her fingers clutching the wheel tighter. "C-Can I... think about it?"
I nodded, my voice low, dark, unwavering. "Yeah..." I murmured, my gaze burning into hers. "Just tell me your answer..." My lips quirked in a smirk. "Before I decide to go back to America."
Lorena nodded, her mind racing, her body humming with the weight of the decision—and the thrill of the power I had just handed her.
The iron gates of the villa swung open with a low hum, the guards nodding at Lorena with deference—respectful, trained, unquestioning.
The estate loomed ahead, grand and imposing, a kingdom of wealth and power, bathed in the golden glow of the morning sun. The air smelled of money—polished marble, manicured lawns, the faint scent of expensive perfume lingering in the breeze.
Lorena parked the car, her fingers still trembling slightly around the steering wheel, her mind spiraling with the weight of the decision—and the thrill of the power I had just handed her. The engine died with a soft click, the silence settling between us like a promise.
"Jack..." she murmured, her voice low, serious, but her dark eyes betrayed her—hungry, curious, afraid of the answer, yet drawn to it like a moth to a flame. "Why me?" Her gaze searched mine, raw, unfiltered, demanding the truth.
I turned to her, my voice low, dark, unapologetic. "Because you're different, Lorena," I growled, my fingers brushing against the back of her hand, claiming her without touching her.
"Unique." My eyes burned into hers, possessive, intense. "You don't judge me." A smirk played on my lips, dark and knowing.
"Even after you know what I am... what I've done..." My voice dropped to a whisper, raw and intimate. "You don't stand on some fucking pedestal of morals like everyone else."
Lorena's breath hitched, her fingers clenching the wheel tighter, her knuckles whitening. "You think that's a good thing?" she asked, her voice sharp, challenging, but her eyes betrayed her—flickering with something darker, something hungrier. "That I don't care if you're a monster?"
I leaned closer, my voice a dark purr, my breath hot against her ear. "I know it is," I murmured, my fingers finally sliding up to grip her chin, forcing her to look at me.
"Because morals are for people who need them to feel safe." My thumb brushed over her lower lip, teasing, possessive.
"You don't need safe, Lorena. You need power. Freedom. Control." My gaze burned into hers. "And I give you all of it."
She exhaled sharply, her dark eyes locked onto mine—searching, weighing, hungry. "You're dangerous, Jack," she whispered, but there was no fear in her voice—just heat, just lust, just the thrill of the unknown. "You could destroy me."
"I could," I agreed, my voice raw, unapologetic, possessive. "But I won't." My fingers tightened on her chin, just enough to make her gasp. "Because you're mine." My lips curved in a dark smirk. "And I protect what's mine."
Lorena's breath caught, her body tensing under my touch, but she didn't pull away. "And if I say no?" she asked, her voice a whisper, challenging, testing.
I didn't flinch. "Then you walk away with a billion dollars," I said, my voice smooth, but my eyes burned with something darker. "And I never bother you again." My thumb traced her jawline, possessive, claiming. "But we both know you won't."
She didn't deny it.
Instead, she leaned into my touch, her voice low, dark, hungry. "You're arrogant, Jack," she murmured, but her eyes gleamed with something wilder—something free, something that matched the fire in me. "You think you know me."
"I do," I growled, my voice raw, possessive, final. "Better than you know yourself." My hand slid to her neck, my thumb brushing over her pulse, feeling the way it spiked under my touch. "You want this. Need it." My lips brushed her ear, my voice a dark whisper. "Just like I need you."
Lorena's body shuddered, her dark eyes burning into mine—challenging, hungry, free. "You scare me, Jack," she admitted, her voice soft, but her gaze never wavered.
"Good," I purred, my fingers tightening on her neck, just enough to make her gasp. "You should be scared." My lips curved in a smirk. "But you should also know—" My voice dropped to a growl. "No one else will ever give you what I can."
She stared at me, her dark eyes gleaming with something wild—something hungry, something that matched the fire in me. "You're insane," she whispered, but her voice held no condemnation—just heat, just lust, just the thrill of the fall.
"And you love it," I growled, my hand sliding down to grip her thigh, claiming her before she could even breathe.
She didn't pull away.
-x-X-x-
Lorena led me inside the villa, the heavy oak doors closing behind us with a soft thud. The air smelled of aged wood, expensive perfume, and the faint aroma of spiced tea. The interior was grand—high ceilings, polished marble floors, antique furniture that spoke of generations of wealth and power.
A woman—elegant, poised, with silver-streaked hair pinned back—turned at the sound of our footsteps. Her eyes lit up at the sight of Lorena. "Lorena, mi hija," she said, her voice warm, motherly. "Come, have some tea?"
"Mom. Dad." Lorena nodded, her voice cool, but there was a flicker of something softer in her eyes—affection, respect, a hint of the girl she must've been before the world hardened her.
I stood just behind her, silent, observant, taking in the room—the power dynamics, the unspoken rules, the way Lorena's parents held themselves like royalty.
Arturo Hernández—Lorena's father—turned in his high-backed leather chair, setting down the documents he'd been reading. His gaze locked onto me, sharp, assessing, the eyes of a man who knew power when he saw it.
"You must be Jack," he said, his voice deep, commanding, but not unfriendly. "Come. Sit."
Lorena took a seat beside me, her posture straight and confident, but I noticed the way her fingers tightened slightly around the armrest. Her mother poured me a cup of tea, the steam rising in delicate curls, the scent rich and earthy. "Thank you," I said, taking the cup, my voice polite, but my eyes never left Arturo.
He took a sip of his tea, his gaze never wavering from mine. "So, young man..." he began, his voice measured, calculating.
"My daughter showed me the case file..." He set his cup down, his fingers tapping lightly against the saucer.
"And I agree—it is beneficial to Lorena's career..." His eyes narrowed slightly, studying me like a predator sizing up prey. "But what I don't understand..." His voice dropped, colder, sharper. "Is what's in it for you."
I took a slow sip of my tea, letting the silence stretch, letting him wait. "Officer Sarah," I said, my voice smooth, unhurried, "is my girlfriend." My eyes met his, unflinching, unapologetic. "Diaz tried to put his hands on her." My voice dropped to a growl, dark, dangerous. "So I helped him cut them off."
Arturo's eyes flashed, not with shock, but with something darker—respect, maybe, or the recognition of a kindred spirit. "Mr. Jack," he said, his voice arrogant, challenging, "aren't you afraid to confess something like that... in front of the Chief Justice?"
I chuckled, low, dark, unfazed. "I'm not afraid," I said, my voice calm, but my eyes burned with something feral. "Of anything." I leaned forward, my gaze locked onto his. "Not laws. Not cops. Not judges." My lips curved into a sly smile. "Especially not men who think they're untouchable... until they're not."
Arturo studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded, almost approvingly. "You have balls, Jack," he said, his voice dry, but there was a hint of something like respect in it.
"But balls alone won't keep you alive in this world." He paused, his gaze flicking to Lorena, then back to me. "You understand that, don't you?"
I didn't flinch. "I understand power," I said, my voice low, dangerous. "And I understand enemies." My eyes flicked to Lorena, then back to Arturo. "But I also understand allies."
Lorena's mother shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her gaze flicking between us, sensing the tension, the unspoken threat hanging in the air. "Arturo..." she murmured, her voice gentle, but firm. "Perhaps we should discuss this later..."
Arturo waved a hand, dismissive, but his eyes never left mine. "No, mi amor," he said, his voice smooth, but his gaze was sharp, calculating. "I want to hear what Jack has to say." He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers.
"You want revenge for Sarah..." His voice dropped, colder, more dangerous. "But revenge is a dish best served with precision... Not recklessness."
I smirked. "I'm very precise," I said, my voice smooth, but my eyes burned with something dark. "Ask Diaz."
Lorena exhaled sharply, her fingers clenching the armrest. "Jack..." she murmured, her voice a warning, but her eyes betrayed her—gleaming with something wild, something hungry.
Arturo chuckled, a low, dark sound, almost approving. "You have a way with words, Jack," he said, his gaze flicking to Lorena, then back to me. "But words won't save you if you cross the wrong people."
"Neither will fear," I replied, my voice calm, but my eyes burned with something feral. "But power? Power will."
Arturo studied me for a long moment, then nodded, almost respectfully. "You may be right," he said, his voice measured. "But power is a double-edged sword..." His eyes flicked to Lorena. "And my daughter is not a pawn in your games."
"I would never treat her as one," I said, my voice firm, unwavering, my gaze locked onto his. "She's smart. Strong. Capable." My lips curved into a smirk. "And if she chooses to stand beside me..." I paused, my eyes burning into his. "Then she knows exactly what she's getting into."
Lorena's mother cleared her throat, her voice gentle but firm. "Enough, Arturo," she said, her gaze flicking between us. "Lorena is a grown woman. She can make her own choices."
Arturo exhaled sharply, but he nodded reluctantly. "You're right, mi amor," he said, his voice softer, but his eyes never left mine.
"But Jack..." His voice dropped, dangerous, warning. "If you hurt my daughter... If you betray her..." His gaze burned into mine. "I will destroy you."
I met his gaze, unflinching, unapologetic. "I would expect nothing less," I said, my voice calm, but my eyes burned with something dark, something promising. "But you don't have to worry..." My gaze flicked to Lorena, then back to Arturo. "Because I protect what's mine."
Lorena's breath hitched, her dark eyes locked onto me, gleaming with something wild, something hungry, something free.
Arturo studied me for a long moment, then nodded, almost approvingly. "We'll see, Jack," he said, his voice measured, but his eyes held a warning. "We'll see."
-x-X-x-
Arturo leaned forward in his high-backed leather chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin, his gaze sharp and calculating. The room was silent, the weight of his question hanging in the air like a blade poised to strike.
"Mr. Jack..." he began, his voice smooth, measured, but laced with the edge of a man who knew how to wield power like a weapon. "If you don't mind me asking..." His eyes burned into mine, unflinching, demanding. "How did you become so rich... all of a sudden?"
He paused, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone. "From the information I have..." His fingers tapped lightly against the armrest, each movement deliberate, controlled. "Your net worth just keeps rising... and doesn't show any signs of slowing down."
I took a slow sip of my tea, letting the silence stretch, letting the tension build. The cup clinked gently as I set it down, my gaze never leaving his. "Everyone has secrets, Mr. Arturo," I said, my voice smooth, unhurried, but laced with something darker, something feral.
"Some are buried... Some are bought..." My lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk. "And some are taken."
Arturo's eyes narrowed, studying me like a predator sizing up prey. "That's not an answer, Jack," he said, his voice dry, but there was a hint of something else—respect, maybe, or the recognition of a kindred spirit. "You didn't build an empire overnight by luck."
I chuckled, low, dark, unfazed. "No," I agreed, my voice calm, but my eyes burned with something wild.
"I built it by knowing one thing..." I leaned forward, my gaze locked onto his, unblinking, unapologetic. "Power is everything."
Arturo exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening slightly around his cup. "Power is a tool, Jack," he said, his voice measured, but his eyes gleamed with something sharper. "But even the most powerful men can fall." He paused, his gaze burning into mine.
"Just think..." His voice dropped, colder, more dangerous. "Even if you owned the whole world..." His lips twisted in a dark smirk. "Wouldn't you still be killed by a single bullet?"
I didn't flinch. I didn't look away.
"Yeah," I said, my voice calm, but my eyes burned with something feral, something that promised more than words ever could.
"I would." My fingers traced the rim of my cup, slow, deliberate, like a man caressing the trigger of a gun. "But power isn't just about owning the world, Mr. Arturo." My gaze locked onto his, dark, unwavering. "It's about making sure no one dares to pull the trigger."
Arturo stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable, but his eyes betrayed him—gleaming with something like respect, or maybe the thrill of facing a worthy opponent.
"You have a way with words, Jack," he said, his voice dry, but there was a hint of something darker—approval, maybe, or the acknowledgment of a man who understood the game. "But words won't save you when the bullets start flying."
I smirked, my voice low, dangerous, unapologetic. "Neither will fear," I replied, my eyes burning into his. "But control? Leverage? Knowing exactly who holds the gun... and who doesn't?" My lips curved into a dark smile. "That's where real power lies."
Arturo exhaled slowly, his gaze never leaving mine. "You play a dangerous game, Jack," he murmured, his voice low, warning, but there was something else there—respect, maybe, or the thrill of facing someone who spoke the same language of power and blood.
"I don't play, Mr. Arturo," I said, my voice calm, but my eyes burned with something wild, something that promised more than words ever could. "I win."
Arturo took a slow, deliberate sip of his tea, his gaze never leaving mine. "Do you have any secret power here in Mexico?" he asked, his voice measured, but his eyes gleamed with something sharper—curiosity, suspicion, the instinct of a man who knew how to smell danger.
I leaned back, my lips curving into a slow, knowing smirk. "Do you know Hector?" I asked, my voice smooth, but my eyes burned with something feral.
Arturo frowned, his fingers tightening around his cup. "Hector...?" he murmured, his voice thoughtful, but his eyes narrowed as he searched his memory. "Are you talking about Hector who took control of Tony's business... after Tony disappeared all of a sudden?" His gaze flicked to me, sharp, calculating.
I chuckled, low, dark, unfazed. "Tony didn't disappear," I said, my voice calm, but my eyes burned with something cold, something that promised violence. "He was chopped..." I paused, letting the words hang in the air, letting them sink in. "And fed to the dogs."
The room fell silent.
Arturo's tea cup clinked against the saucer as his hand trembled—just slightly. Lorena's mother gasped, her fingers flying to her lips, her eyes wide with horror. Lorena stared at me, her dark eyes gleaming with something wild—shock, maybe, but something else, something darker, something hungrier.
"H-How did you know?" Arturo demanded, his voice sharp, disbelieving, but his eyes burned with something else—respect, maybe, or the thrill of facing a man who played the game at the same level as he did.
I chuckled, taking a slow, deliberate sip of my tea, my gaze never leaving his. "Because Hector..." I paused, letting the tension build, letting the weight of my words settle over them like a shroud. "Is my dog."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Arturo's face paled, his fingers clenching the armrests of his chair. Lorena's mother let out a soft, horrified gasp, her hand trembling as she reached for her tea. Lorena didn't flinch. She just stared at me, her dark eyes gleaming with something wild, something that matched the fire in mine.
"You..." Arturo began, his voice hoarse, but his eyes burned with something new—respect, maybe, or the realization that he was sitting across from a man who wasn't just a player in the game, but the one who wrote the rules.
"I own this city, Arturo," I said, my voice calm, but my eyes burned with something feral, something that promised more than words ever could. "The cops. The politicians. The cartels." My lips curved into a dark smirk. "Even the dogs that ate Tony."
Arturo's face twisted in disgust, his fingers clenching the armrests of his chair so tightly his knuckles whitened. His voice dripped with mocking arrogance, the kind only a man drunk on decades of unchecked power could muster.
"Do you think I'm lying?" I asked, my voice calm, almost amused, but my eyes burned with something feral, something that promised pain.
Arturo scoffed, his lips twisting into a sneer. "Mr. Jack..." he spat, his voice laced with condescension, "I think even bragging needs to be... in limit." He leaned forward, his gaze sharp, mocking.
"You think I'm an idiot?" His voice rose, cold, venomous. "Why would those underworld scum listen to a nobody like you—some foreign boy with just a little money?" His lips curled in disdain.
"Do you think I believe you have reached only in Mexico?" He laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "Even if your net worth exceeds $100 billion—" His eyes gleamed with mockery. "It's nothing compared to the empire I've built."
I stared at him, unblinking, unmoved. This man was blinded by power, drunk on the illusion of control. He thought he was untouchable.
He was wrong.
I turned to Lorena, my voice cold, final. "Our contract is invalid." My eyes burned into hers, dark, possessive, but there was no anger—only disappointment. "You and I... no connection anymore."
Then, I looked back at Arturo, my lips curving into a smirk so dark it promised ruin. "It won't be long, Arturo," I said, my voice low, dangerous, each word a knife waiting to plunge. "Before you'll be begging for me... on your knees." My eyes gleamed with something wild, something that spoke of broken men and shattered kingdoms. "This is my promise."
Arturo's face twisted in rage, his body trembling with fury. "You are lawless, right?" he snarled, his voice a growl, spittle flying from his lips. "I will show you what lawlessness is!" His fingers slammed onto the armrests, his knuckles white.
"Beat this bastard to death!" he roared, his fingers white-knuckled around the armrests of his chair, spittle flying from his lips. "I'd like to see how this bastard dares to threaten me!"
Lorena's voice sliced through the tension, desperate, pleading. "No, Dad—!" she cried, her eyes flicking between the guards storming forward. "Jack—quickly—apologize to Dad—!"
I didn't move.
I didn't speak.
I didn't flinch.
I waited.
The first guard charged, a hulking brute with arms like steel cables and a face twisted in bloodlust. His fist swung toward my face, fast, heavy, meant to crush bone. I didn't dodge. I didn't block.
I stepped into it.
My left hand shot out, intercepting his wrist with a grip like a vice, halting his momentum mid-air. My right hand clamped onto his shoulder, fingers digging into the pressure points of his nerve clusters. He grunted, pain flashing across his face—confusion, then terror.
"You should've stayed back," I murmured, my voice a dark purr, almost gentle, as if I were soothing a child.
Then, I twisted.
A sharp, wet crack echoed through the room—his elbow snapping like a dry twig under my grip. His scream bubbled in his throat, choked off as I pivoted, my foot driving into his knee with precise, brutal force. The joint shattered, ligaments tearing like rotten cloth. He collapsed, howling, but I didn't let him fall.
I gripped his head, my fingers tangling in his hair, yanking it back until his throat stretched, exposed, vulnerable. His eyes bulged, tears streaming, snot bubbling from his nose.
"A lesson," I whispered, my breath hot against his ear.
Then, I snapped his neck.
One.
His body crumpled, limp, lifeless, hitting the marble floor with a dull, wet thud. The room froze. The other guards hesitated, their eyes wide, disbelieving.
I didn't stop.
The second guard lunged, roaring, his fist a blurred arc of fury. I sidestepped, gripping his wrist mid-swing, using his momentum to flip him over my hip. He crashed onto his back, the air exploding from his lungs in choked gasps. Before he could recover, I dropped onto him, my knee crushing his sternum. Bone cracked. He gagged, choking, clawing at his chest.
I gripped his head, twisting it sharply to the side. His neck popped like an overripe fruit.
Two.
The third guard swung a baton, aiming for my skull. I caught it, ripping it from his grip and smashing it over his knee. Cartilage shattered. He staggered, dazed, and I drove my elbow into his throat, crushing his windpipe. He gagged, clawing at his neck, but I didn't let him suffocate.
I gripped his chin, forcing his head back, and slammed my forehead into his nose. Cartilage crunched. Blood sprayed across the floor. Then, I twisted his neck like a ragdoll's.
Three.
The fourth guard pulled a knife, his hand shaking. I let him come. When he lunged, I grabbed his wrist, twisting until the knife clattered to the floor. Then, I drove my fingers into his eyes. He screamed, blind, stumbling, and I gripped his skull, snapping his neck with a single, fluid motion.
Four.
The fifth guard tried to tackle me. I caught him, driving my fingers into his pressure points, paralyzing his arms. He staggered, helpless, as I gripped his head between my hands.
"You die for a man who doesn't care if you live or die," I growled.
Snap.
Five.
The sixth guard grabbed a vase, smashing it over my shoulder. Porcelain shattered. I didn't flinch. I gripped his throat with one hand, lifting him off the ground. His feet kicked uselessly, his face turning purple. I leaned in, my voice a whisper.
"You chose the wrong master," I hissed.
Then, I squeezed.
His neck crushed under my grip, bones splintering like glass. I dropped him, his body hitting the floor with a wet thud.
Six.
The seventh guard tried to flee. I caught him by the hair, yanking him back. His scream was cut short as I drove my knee into his spine, shattering vertebrae. Then, I gripped his chin, snapping his neck before he could hit the ground.
Seven.
The eighth guard swung a chair at me. I caught it, ripping it from his hands and smashing it over his skull. Wood splintered. He staggered, dazed, and I gripped his head, twisting it until his neck gave with a sickening pop.
Eight.
The ninth guard pulled a gun. I moved faster. My hand closed around his wrist, crushing bone. The gun clattered away. I drove my fingers into his throat, ripping out his voice before snapping his neck.
Nine.
The tenth guard grabbed me from behind. I flipped him over my shoulder, driving him headfirst into the marble floor. His skull cracked. I stomped on his neck, finishing him.
Ten.
The eleventh guard lunged with a broken bottle. I caught his wrist, twisting until the glass shattered in his hand. Then, I gripped his head, snapping his neck before he could scream.
Eleven.
The twelfth guard froze, terror in his eyes. I didn't let him beg. I gripped his skull, crushing it between my hands like an eggshell.
Twelve.
The last guard dropped to his knees, pleading. I gripped his chin, forcing him to look at me.
"You should've run," I whispered.
Then, I snapped his neck.
Thirteen.
The room was silent.
Thirteen bodies lay scattered, broken, lifeless. Blood pooled on the marble, glistening under the chandelier's light, seeping into the grooves of the floor like a dark painting. The air reeked of iron and death, thick and heavy, clinging to the back of my throat.
Arturo stared at me, his face pale, his body trembling like a leaf in a storm. His arrogance was gone. His power was gone. All that remained was fear—raw, primitive, the kind that strips a man bare and leaves him shivering in the cold.
His hands shaking, he clutched the armrests of his chair, his knuckles white. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, his eyes wide, unblinking, locked onto the bodies scattered around me.
Lorena stood frozen, her dark eyes wide, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Her mother clutched her chest, her face white with horror, her lips moving in a silent prayer. A teacup shattered on the floor, unnoticed, forgotten.
I turned back one last time, my gaze sweeping over the carnage—thirteen broken bodies, Arturo's ashen face, Lorena's wide, horrified eyes, her mother's trembling hands clutching her chest. The air reeked of blood and fear, the marble floor slick with crimson pools, the chandelier's light glinting off the shards of broken porcelain and bone.
Arturo took a stumbling step back, his face pale, his breath ragged. His arrogance was gone, replaced by the raw, primitive terror of a man who had just witnessed his own mortality. His eyes flickered between me and the bodies scattered like broken dolls, his mind struggling to comprehend what he had just seen.
I scoffed, a low, dark sound, dripping with contempt. "Pathetic," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper, but it carried—heavy, final, like a death sentence.
Then, I turned away.
I didn't look back.
I didn't need to.
The doors of the villa loomed ahead, grand and ornate, a symbol of Arturo's power—a power that had just crumbled like dust under my boots. I stepped forward, my movements fluid, unhurried, the confidence of a man who knew he was untouchable.
As I crossed the threshold, I activated my abilities—Invisibility wrapping around me like a shroud, Telekinesis humming beneath my skin, ready to propel me away from this place of broken men and shattered illusions.
The world blurred around me, the sounds of the villa—Arturo's choked breaths, Lorena's stifled gasps, the distant wails of her mother—fading into silence. The ground fell away beneath me as I rose, weightless, unseen, the night air rushing past me like a whisper of death.
The night swallowed me as I soared through the skies, the villa shrinking beneath me—a mere speck of light in the vast darkness, a kingdom that had just learned the cost of defying me. Arturo's empire, his wealth, his influence—all of it meant nothing now. He had seen what I was. He had seen what I could do. And now, he would learn what it meant to stand against me.
I landed silently on the balcony of Marina's house, the night air cool against my skin. She was inside, waiting, always waiting. I stepped through the French doors, my presence filling the room like a shadow.
Marina looked up, her eyes gleaming with curiosity, concern, lust. "You're back," she murmured, her voice soft, knowing. "I felt you coming."
I sat beside her, my mind already racing, planning, unraveling the threads of Arturo's life. "He thinks he's untouchable," I murmured, my voice low, dangerous, a growl of promise. "His reputation, his arrogance—he thinks being Chief Justice makes him a god."
A cold smirk curved my lips. "Let's show him what happens when a god falls."
I activated SERA, my voice sharp, commanding. "Compile everything," I ordered, my eyes burning with feral intensity. "Every illegal deal, every bribe, every dirty secret Arturo has ever touched." My fingers flexed, imagining the chaos I was about to unleash. "And leak it. Worldwide."
SERA's voice responded, smooth, efficient. "Compiling now, Master."
"Find every asset," I continued, my voice dark, relentless. "Every bank account, every property, every shell company." My eyes gleamed with cold calculation. "And transfer it all. Nowhere can he touch."
"Pressure the Mexican Law Bench," I commanded, my voice a whisper of death. "I want Arturo arrested by dawn." My lips twisted. "And Lorena? Cancel her license. Destroy her reputation."
"It will be done, Master," SERA replied, already executing my orders with ruthless efficiency.
Within minutes, the machine sprang to life. SERA infiltrated networks, hacked databases, unleashed bots and trolls across the Mexican web.
Fake accounts screamed for justice, mocked Arturo's hypocrisy, demanded his head. Leaked documents flooded social media, news outlets, government servers—proof of illegal rackets, sex trafficking, real estate mafia ties, bribes paid in blood and cash.
"Master," SERA informed, "the first wave of leaks has gone viral. Mexican news outlets are picking it up."
I smirked. "Good."
"Arturo's bank accounts are being drained," SERA continued. "His assets are being frozen."
"Perfect."
"Pressure is being applied to the Mexican Law Bench," SERA reported. "Judges are receiving anonymous threats. Public outrage is escalating."
I leaned back, satisfied, watching the chaos unfold on the screen of my mind. "And Lorena?"
"Her license is being revoked, Master," SERA said, "and false evidence of corruption is being planted in her records."
A slow, dangerous smile spread across my lips. "Let them burn."
Within thirty minutes, the news broke—live on television, trending on every social platform, echoing through the streets of Mexico.
Arturo's face flashed across screens, his name synonymous with corruption, his reputation shattered in real time. Sex trafficking allegations. Illegal racketeering. Real estate mafia connections. Bribes. Murder.
"This is happening now, Master," SERA informed, "Live broadcasts are showing protests outside Arturo's home."
I closed my eyes, imagining the horror on Arturo's face, the betrayal in Lorena's eyes, the shame burning through her mother. "Let them watch their world crumble."
"Arturo is being called in for questioning," SERA said. "The Mexican Law Bench is demanding his resignation."
"And Lorena?" I asked, my voice a dark purr.
"Her name is being dragged through the mud, Master," SERA replied. "Her career is over."
I opened my eyes, meeting Marina's gaze. She stared at me, awed, terrified, aroused by the power I wielded. "They thought they could defy me," I murmured, my voice a growl of triumph. "Now they know the cost."
-x-X-x-
The news alert blared from the screen, flashing red headlines across the bottom of the frame:
"BREAKING: MASSACRE AT CHIEF JUSTICE'S ESTATE—POLICE INVESTIGATE LINKS TO AMERICAN BUSINESSMAN JACK REYNOLDS"
The anchor's voice was tense, urgent, each word dripping with sensationalized horror. "Sources confirm that thirteen bodyguards were found dead inside the home of Chief Justice Arturo Hernández, all with snapped necks and no signs of forced entry.
Authorities are questioning Hernández and his family, but new details emerge as daughter Lorena Hernández claims the perpetrator is none other than American businessman Jack Reynolds—a man she describes as 'a monster with no remorse'.
Hernández also alleges Reynolds is connected to the disappearance of Tony Mendoza, the recent sex trafficking scandal, and the murders linked to Officer Sarah Díaz's investigation."
The screen cut to a clip of Lorena, standing outside the police station, her face pale but defiant, microphones thrust in her face. "He's not just a businessman," she said, her voice steady, cold.
"He's a killer. A psychopath. He boasted about murdering Tony Mendoza in front of my father. He snapped those men's necks like they were twigs. He threatened us. He threatened Mexico's justice system." Her eyes burned with something wild—fear, maybe, but also a desperate defiance. "And if you don't stop him, he'll do it again."
I leaned back in my chair, a slow, dangerous smirk curving my lips. "Pathetic," I murmured, my voice a low growl. "She thinks this changes anything."
Just then, my phone buzzed—a video call from Julie. I answered, and her face filled the screen, her dark eyes sharp, concerned, but unyielding. "Jack," she said, her voice firm, "I know you can take care of yourself—but we're not letting you face this alone."
Behind her, I could see Isabella, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable but supportive. Jessica was there too, leaning against the wall, her eyes gleaming with something wild—amusement, maybe, or the thrill of chaos.
"You don't need to—" I started, but Julie cut me off with a sharp shake of her head.
"We're family, Jack," she said, her voice leaving no room for argument. "And family protects each other." She paused, her gaze softening just for a moment. "You've done the same for us—more times than we can count."
Isabella stepped forward, her voice cool but laced with steel. "Jack," she said, "I've already informed Hector. He'll handle the underworld chatter. No one will dare testify against you after tonight." Her lips twisted into a smirk.
"And if they do..." She shrugged, her eyes gleaming with something dark. "Well. Let's just say they'll regret it."
The screen shifted slightly, and I saw Claire and Yelena step into frame. Claire's eyes were sharp, calculating, her voice low but deadly. "Jack," she said, "I've already contacted my sources in the FBI. They'll make sure this doesn't become an international incident."
She paused, her gaze flicking to something off-screen before focusing back on me. "And if it does..." Her voice dropped, cold and final. "We'll bury it before it even hits the news again."
Yelena smirked, her voice dripping with amusement. "And if it does?" she asked, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of chaos.
"Well..." She shrugged, a wicked grimace playing on her lips. "We'll just have to remind them who they're dealing with." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "And trust me, Jack... they won't like the answer."
Jessica finally spoke, pushing off the wall and stepping closer to the camera. "You know, Jack," she said, her voice smooth, almost playful, but with an edge like a razor.
"I always knew you were a man of action... but this?" She laughed, a low, dark sound. "This is art." Her eyes gleamed. "You didn't just break them... you shattered them so thoroughly they'll never recover."
I chuckled, shaking my head at the screen, a warmth spreading through me despite the chaos. "You guys," I said, my voice laced with affection, "why are you all worried?" I leaned forward, my smirk deepening. "Don't you already know me? I can handle this."
Natalya's laughter rang out from somewhere off-screen, rich and mocking. "Oh, we know, darling," she called, her voice dripping with amusement. "But where's the fun in letting you have all the excitement?" There was a pause, then she chuckled again, her voice dropping to a low purr.
"Besides, that woman, Lorena, has a lot of nerve to go against you." Her tone shifted, thoughtful, almost admiring. "But seeing her photo..." She hummed, a knowing smirk in her voice. "I guess she'll also be our sister soon."
Julie's expression softened, just for a moment, her voice gentler but no less firm. "We've got your back, Jack," she repeated, her eyes meeting mine through the screen. "Always."
I nodded, feeling the weight of their loyalty, their trust. "I know," I said, my voice quiet, but steady. "And I've got yours." My gaze flicked over each of them, a promise in my eyes. "But this time..." I paused, my smirk turning sharper, darker. "Let's make sure Lorena Hernández regrets ever opening her mouth."
Claire's lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "Oh," she murmured, "we will." Her eyes gleamed with something feral. "By the time we're done, she'll wish she had never been born."
Jessica grinned, her voice low and sweet, like poisoned honey. "I'll handle the press," she said, her fingers tapping against her lips. "By tomorrow, she'll be the villain of Mexico—a liar, a traitor, a woman who sold out her own family for power." Her eyes sparkled. "And you, Jack... you'll be the hero who exposed her."
Yelena clapped her hands, a wicked glee in her eyes. "Oh, this is going to be fun," she purred. "I'll make sure every cartel, every cop, every judge in Mexico knows exactly what happens when you cross Jack Reynolds." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. "They'll burn her name before they burn her body."
Isabella crossed her arms, her expression cool, but her eyes burned with something dark. "And I'll make sure Hector delivers the message personally," she said, her voice low and final. "No one touches our family and lives."
I leaned back, my mind already racing, planning, unraveling the next move. "Good," I murmured, my voice a dark purr. "Because Lorena Hernández just made the biggest mistake of her life."
Julie's smile was sharp, her voice firm. "Then let's make sure she pays for it."
-x-X-x-
Marina's eyes locked onto mine, dark and smoldering, as she sauntered toward me with the confidence of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted. I could see it in the way her lips parted slightly, in the way her fingers traced the curve of her own collarbone before she reached for me.
"You look like you're carrying the weight of the world, my love," she purred, her voice a velvety whisper that sent a shiver down my spine. "Let me take it from you."
Before I could respond, she was on me, straddling my lap with a slow, deliberate grace. Her thighs pressed against mine, the heat of her body seeping through the fabric of my clothes.
She cupped my face in her hands, her thumbs brushing my cheekbones as she leaned in, her breath warm and sweet against my lips. "Forget everything else," she murmured, "just feel me."
And then her mouth was on mine, hungry and demanding. Her tongue slid between my lips, teasing, exploring, as if she wanted to taste every inch of me. A soft moan escaped her—"Mmm, yes..."—as she ground her hips against me, the friction sending sparks through my body. I could feel her heartbeat, wild and erratic, matching the rhythm of my own.
She pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, her lips swollen from our kiss. "I want you so badly," she confessed, her voice husky with desire. "I need to taste you, to feel you inside me."
With a wicked smile, she slid off my lap and onto her knees, her hands already working at the waistband of my pants. The moment my cock was free, she wrapped her fingers around it, her touch sending a jolt of pleasure through me. "God, you're so hard for me," she moaned, her breath hot against my skin. "I love how much you want me."
Her tongue flicked out, tracing the tip of my cock before she took me fully into her mouth. The wet heat of her was almost too much to bear. She hollowed her cheeks, her lips sliding up and down my length with a slow, torturous rhythm. Every time she took me deeper, a muffled "mmm" vibrated against my skin, her moans growing louder, needier.
"Fuck, you taste so good," she gasped, pulling back just long enough to speak before diving back in, her fingers tightening around the base of my cock. Her free hand slid between her own thighs, her hips rocking slightly as she pleasured herself. "I'm so wet for you," she whimpered, "so fucking wet."
I could hear the slick sounds of her fingers working herself, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "I need you inside me," she begged, her voice trembling. "Now."
She rose to her feet, her hands shaking as she hiked up her skirt and pulled her panties aside. The sight of her—glistening, ready, her chest heaving with anticipation—was enough to make my head spin. She aligned herself with me, her eyes never leaving mine as she sank down, taking me inch by inch.
"Ohhh, fuck—" she cried out, her head tipping back as she took me fully. "You fill me up so perfectly."
Her hips began to move, rolling in slow, deep circles as she rode me. Every movement was deliberate, every gasp and moan a symphony of pleasure. "Yes, just like that," she breathed, her nails digging into my shoulders. "Harder, baby, I want to feel you everywhere."
I gripped her hips, pulling her down as I thrust up to meet her. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by her desperate cries. "Oh god, don't stop—don't you dare stop!" Her body trembled, her walls clenching around me as she neared her climax.
"I'm going to come," she whimpered, her voice breaking. "I'm going to come so hard for you."
With a final, desperate moan—"Fuuuck!"—she shuddered, her body convulsing as her orgasm crashed over her. I could feel her juices dripping down my cock, her pleasure so intense it spilled over. But she wasn't done.
"I want you in my ass," she panted, her eyes wild with lust. "I want to feel you there, stretching me, owning me."
She didn't wait for an answer. With a wicked grin, she turned around, bending over the arm of the couch and presenting herself to me. "Take me," she begged, her voice raw with need. "Fuck me like you mean it."
I didn't hesitate. I lined myself up, my cock pressing against her tight entrance. She let out a sharp gasp as I pushed in, her body resisting at first before giving way. "Ohhh, fuck yes!" she cried, her fingers clawing at the couch cushions. "More, give me more!"
Every thrust drew a louder moan from her, her body trembling with the effort of taking me. "You're so big—so fucking big!" she sobbed, her voice cracking. "I'm going to come again, I can't—oh god, I can't—"
And then she did—her body exploding with pleasure as she screamed my name, her voice raw and unfiltered. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" Her walls pulsed around me, her ass clenching so tightly it was almost painful, each spasm dragging another desperate cry from her lips. "Fuck—fuck—fuck!" Her juices gushed, dripping down my balls, her thighs slick with her release as she trembled uncontrollably, her body completely undone.
I pulled my cock out with a wet pop, a thick bead of cum already dripping from the tip, glistening in the dim light. Marina's breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving as she turned to face me, her lips swollen and her eyes dark with satisfaction—and something far more dangerous. Mischief.
She bit her lower lip, her gaze dropping to my cock, still throbbing, still leaking. A slow, wicked smile spread across her face. "Look at you," she purred, her voice dripping with mocking amusement. "All spent and messy... and you still think you're in control?"
Before I could react, she reached out, wrapping her fingers around my shaft, her thumb swiping over the sensitive tip. I hissed at the contact, my body still buzzing from the intensity of our fucking. She giggled, low and throaty, as she squeezed just enough to make me twitch. "Pathetic," she teased, her nails grazing my skin. "You can't even last five minutes without falling apart for me."
Her free hand slid between her own thighs, her fingers gliding through the wetness there. She brought them to her lips, sucking them clean with a slow, deliberate pop. "Mmm... still tastes like you," she moaned, her eyes never leaving mine. "But I'm not done with you yet."
She pushed me back against the couch, her body pressing against mine as she straddled me again, her pussy hovering just above my cock. "You're going to fuck me again," she commanded, her voice leaving no room for argument. "And this time, you're going to make me scream so loud the neighbors hear it."
I groaned as she aligned herself with me, her slick heat already enveloping the tip. "Or what?" I challenged, my hands gripping her hips.
She leaned in, her lips brushing my ear as she whispered, "Or I'll edge you until you beg me to let you come." Her tongue flicked out, tracing the shell of my ear, and I shuddered. "And we both know you'd do anything to avoid that."
With a slow, torturous roll of her hips, she took me inside her again, her moans filling the room as she sank down inch by inch. "Fuck—" she gasped, her head tipping back. "You feel so good... but don't think this means you're off the hook."
Her nails dug into my shoulders as she began to ride me, her movements deliberate, her rhythm punishing. Every time she bottomed out, she let out a breathy "Yes!", her body quivering with the effort. "You're mine," she panted, her voice rough with desire. "Say it."
I gripped her waist, my fingers pressing into her skin as I thrust up to meet her. "I'm yours," I growled, the words torn from me.
She smirked, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "Good boy," she cooed, her hips slamming down harder. "Now fuck me like you mean it."
Just as I was about to pull Marina back into my arms for another round—her lips already parting in anticipation, her fingers tracing lazy circles on my chest—the sharp wail of a siren pierced the air.
The sound was jarring, unnatural, cutting through the heavy silence of the room like a knife. Marina's eyes flickered with annoyance, but she didn't hesitate. She slid off my lap with a fluid grace, her body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure.
"Looks like someone's eager to ruin our fun," she murmured, her voice laced with amusement rather than concern. She reached for her dress, the fabric slipping over her curves like a second skin. "Get dressed, Jack. We wouldn't want to keep them waiting."
I didn't argue. The urgency in the siren's cry was unmistakable, and the last thing I needed was to give anyone—especially the law—a reason to linger. I pulled on my clothes quickly, my mind already racing through the possibilities.
Marina watched me with a smirk, her fingers deftly buttoning her blouse. "You look guilty already," she teased, her eyes gleaming. "Did you forget to tell me something?"
Before I could respond, a sharp knock echoed through the house. Marina's grandmother, still asleep in her room, didn't stir, but the sound of footsteps approached the door.
Eva and Ema exchanged glances before Ema reached for the doorknob. The moment the door swung open, the energy in the room shifted.
Standing on the threshold was a woman—tall, imposing, with an aura of authority that seemed to radiate off her like heat.
She wore a tailored black jacket over a crisp white shirt, the fabric hugging her frame in a way that suggested both power and precision. Her trousers were equally sharp, tucked into polished boots that clicked against the floor as she stepped inside. Her dark hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and her eyes—cold, calculating—locked onto me instantly.
"Mr. Jack Reynolds," she said, her voice smooth but edged with steel. "I'm Jayden James. I'm currently investigating a case, and we'd like you to come with us... for interrogation." She tilted her head slightly, her gaze never wavering. "I guess you already know what this is about?"
I held her stare, refusing to let her see even a flicker of unease. A slow smile curled my lips as I nodded. "Okay."
Marina didn't flinch. She leaned against the doorway, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife, but she seemed utterly unfazed. Jayden's eyes flicked to her for a brief moment, as if assessing her reaction, before returning to me.
I turned to Marina, my voice low but steady. "Don't worry. I'll be back soon."
She raised an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. "I know."
Jayden didn't wait. She stepped aside, gesturing toward the door with a practiced ease. "After you, Mr. Reynolds."
I followed her out, the cool night air hitting my face as we stepped onto the porch. Two uniformed officers stood by a marked police car, their expressions unreadable, but Jayden dismissed them with a wave of her hand.
"I'll take it from here," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. She led me to a sleek, unmarked sedan parked at the curb, the engine already purring softly.
As she opened the passenger door for me, her voice dropped to a whisper, just loud enough for me to hear. "You're either very confident, Mr. Reynolds... or very stupid." She paused, her eyes locking onto mine. "I'm hoping it's the former."
I slid into the seat, the leather cool beneath me. Jayden shut the door with a quiet click before rounding the car and slipping into the driver's seat. The engine roared to life, and we pulled away from the curb, the house—and Marina—fading into the distance behind us.
The car's interior was immaculate, the scent of leather and something faintly floral—Jayden's perfume, perhaps—filling the space. She didn't speak immediately, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the steering wheel as she navigated the empty streets. The silence was heavy, charged with unspoken questions.
Finally, she glanced at me, her expression unreadable. "You don't seem surprised to see me."
I leaned back in my seat, my voice calm. "Should I be?"
She smirked, but there was no warmth in it. "Most men in your position would be sweating by now."
"Most men aren't me."
Jayden's smirk deepened, but her eyes remained sharp, assessing. "No," she agreed, "they're not." She turned her focus back to the road, the streetlights casting shifting shadows across her face, her fingers tightening slightly on the steering wheel. "Let's see how long that confidence lasts."
I leaned back, my voice steady, unshaken. "Officer Jayden, I'm innocent until proven guilty."
Jayden let out a low, humorless chuckle, her gaze flicking to me for a split second before returning to the road. "Innocent?" she echoed, her tone dripping with skepticism. "That's not what the files suggest, Mr. Reynolds."
I didn't miss a beat. "Files can suggest anything. But unless you have evidence, they're just paper and speculation." I crossed my arms, my voice calm but firm. "If you had something concrete, you wouldn't need to bring me in for interrogation. You'd arrest me on the spot."
Jayden's lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. "Hmph. But we can still keep you for interrogation for 48 hours," she said, her voice smooth, almost casual, as if she were discussing the weather.
I chuckled, shaking my head. "Do you really think that's possible?"
Her grip on the wheel tightened, just for a moment, before she forced her expression back into that infuriatingly composed mask. "The law says it is."
"The law also says you need reasonable suspicion to hold me," I countered, my eyes locked onto her profile. "And unless you've got more than just a hunch and a stack of files, I'll be walking out of that station in less than an hour."
Jayden didn't respond immediately. The car hummed beneath us, the silence stretching between us like a taut wire. Then, slowly, she turned her head, her dark eyes meeting mine with an intensity that bordered on predatory. "You're awfully sure of yourself, Mr. Reynolds. Almost like you've done this before."
I held her gaze, unblinking. "I'm sure of the law, Officer. And I'm sure of my rights."
She exhaled sharply through her nose, a sound that might have been a laugh if it weren't so devoid of amusement. "We'll see." The car slowed as she pulled into the precinct parking lot, the fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow over the scene. She turned off the engine and faced me fully, her expression unreadable. "Let's go, Mr. Reynolds. I'm eager to hear your side of the story."
As she stepped out of the car, I followed, the cool night air doing little to dampen the heat of the confrontation. Jayden led the way into the station, her boots clicking against the linoleum floor with purpose. Every eye in the room seemed to flick toward us, but her focus never wavered.
She stopped at the door to an interrogation room, turning to me with a smirk that sent a chill down my spine. "After you."
I stepped inside, the door shutting behind me with a finality that echoed in the small space. Jayden took her time settling into the chair across from me, her movements deliberate, calculated. She placed a file on the table between us, her fingers tapping the surface lightly, as if savoring the moment.
"48 hours, Mr. Reynolds," she said, her voice low, almost conversational. "Let's make them count."
She slid a photograph across the table. The image was gruesome—a bodyguard's lifeless body sprawled across Arturo's home, blood pooling around him like a macabre halo. The air in the room seemed to thicken, but I didn't flinch.
I picked up the photo, my expression mocking as I examined it. "Yeah... they look so familiar." I leaned back in my chair, feigning thoughtfulness. "Oh, right. I remember now. I saw them at Lorena's house when I went to meet Mr. Arturo." I shook my head, my tone dripping with false sympathy.
"What a pity. They died like that." My eyes flicked up to meet Jayden's, a smirk playing on my lips. "Officer, have you caught the murderer yet? Whoever did this must be truly lawless—to kill the bodyguards of Chief Justice Arturo like that."
Jayden didn't react. Instead, she slid another photo across the table. This time, it was Hector—his face frozen in an expression of terror. "Do you know him?"
I shook my head, my voice smooth. "I don't think I've ever seen him in my life, Officer."
Jayden chuckled, a cold, humorless sound. She pulled out a third photo—Diaz, his body mutilated, his limbs severed. Before she could ask, I cut in, my voice laced with mock horror.
"Oh, I do know him." I placed a hand over my heart, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "He's the son of my woman. So tragic. Who could be so cruel as to cut off his hands and feet?"
Jayden's fingers tightened around the edge of the file as she watched me, her knuckles turning white. "You think this is a joke?" she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. "These men are dead, Mr. Reynolds. Brutally. And you're sitting there, smirking like this is some kind of game."
I leaned back in the chair, my expression unshaken. "If it's not a game, Officer, then why are you playing by the rules of one?" I gestured toward the photos scattered across the table.
"You've got bodies, witnesses, and a file. So where's the arrest? Or are you just hoping I'll slip up and confess out of the goodness of my heart?"
Jayden's eyes flashed with fury. She stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor, and braced her hands on the table, leaning in until her face was inches from mine. "I don't need a confession from you, Jack," she spat. "I've got Lorena's testimony. I've got Arturo's statement. I've got proof that you were at the scene, that you threatened Diaz, that you—"
"That I what?" I interrupted, my voice calm but cutting. "That I walked into a room where men were already dead? That I had a conversation with Diaz before someone else butchered him?" I shook my head, my smirk never wavering.
"You've got circumstantial evidence, Officer. And circumstantial evidence doesn't hold up when the real killer is still out there."
Jayden's breath came faster, her chest rising and falling with barely contained rage. "You're unbelievable," she snarled. "You stand there, with blood practically dripping from your hands, and you act like you're the victim."
I glanced down at my hands, then back up at her, my eyebrows raised. "No blood here, Officer. Just your imagination running wild." I tilted my head, studying her.
"You're desperate, aren't you? You've got nothing but a pile of photos and a story from people who'd sell their own mothers to save their skins. Tell me, Jayden—" I emphasized her name, watching her flinch—"what happens if I walk out of here? What happens to your career when your star suspect strolls out the door without a scratch?"
Her face twisted in fury. "You won't walk out," she growled. "Not today. Not ever."
I laughed, a low, mocking sound. "Bold words. But let's be honest—you don't have enough to hold me. Not for 48 minutes, let alone 48 hours." I tapped the table with my finger, my voice dropping to a whisper. "You want to know what really happened? Fine. But you're asking the wrong questions."
Jayden's eyes narrowed. "Enlighten me, then," she snapped. "If you're so innocent, tell me where you were when those men were killed. Tell me why Lorena would lie for you. Tell me why Arturo, a man who hates you, would cover for you now."
I leaned forward, my voice dangerously calm. "I was where I always am, Officer—where the real power is. And Lorena? She knows the truth. Just like Arturo does." I paused, letting the words hang in the air. "But you're not ready to hear it. You're too busy chasing shadows."
Jayden's hands clenched into fists. "I'm done playing games with you," she said, her voice trembling with rage. She reached for the file again, yanking out a fresh document and slamming it onto the table.
"This is the warrant for your arrest, Jack. For murder. For conspiracy. For obstruction of justice. You're not walking out of here. You're going to rot in a cell while I dig up every skeleton in your closet."
I didn't even glance at the paper. Instead, I met her gaze, my voice steady. "Arrest me, then."
Jayden's breath hitched. For a moment, she hesitated—just a flicker of doubt in her eyes. Then, with a snarl, she grabbed my arm and yanked me out of the chair. "With pleasure."
But as she dragged me toward the door, I twisted free, my voice a whisper in her ear. I smirked. "The second I walk out of here, you're the one who's going to need a lawyer."
-x-X-x-
Jayden's knuckles rapped sharply against the double-sided mirror, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Bring me the handcuffs."
I watched her, my gaze unwavering. She stood tall, her posture radiating confidence, her eyes burning with the certainty of victory.
But I could see the cracks—the way her fingers twitched at her sides, the way her breath hitched just a little too quickly. She thought she had me. She thought she was in control.
But I was done playing by her rules.
For the first time, I didn't reach for my wallet or my connections. I didn't call in favors or throw money at the problem. This time, I wanted to shatter her confidence. I wanted to show her what real power looked like.
Jayden's glare bore into me, her silence a challenge. The seconds stretched, thick with anticipation. Then, the door creaked open. Two officers stepped inside, handcuffs glinting in their hands. Their boots thudded against the floor, their expressions blank, professional.
I didn't move. I didn't speak.
I just looked at them.
My eyes locked onto theirs, and I felt the familiar surge of Absolute Hypnosis coursing through me. The air in the room seemed to hum with it, a low, electric pulse that thrummed in my veins. "I am your Master," I said, my voice calm, commanding. "You are my slaves. My every order is your command."
The officers froze. Their faces slackened, their eyes glazing over with instant, unquestioning obedience. Without hesitation, they dropped to their knees, their heads bowing as if I were a god.
Jayden's breath hitched. "What the—? John! Larry! What are you fools doing?!" she snapped, her voice sharp with disbelief. She took a step forward, her hand reaching for her sidearm, but it was too late.
I didn't even glance at her. "Now," I said, my tone casual, almost bored, "please put those handcuffs on Mrs. Jayden and bind her to the chair."
The officers moved in unison, their movements mechanical, their faces devoid of emotion. Jayden's eyes widened as they grabbed her wrists, the cold metal of the handcuffs clicking shut around them.
She struggled, her chair scraping against the floor as they forced her arms behind the backrest, securing her with brutal efficiency.
"STOP!" Jayden screamed, her voice raw with panic. "John! Larry! SNAP OUT OF IT! THAT'S AN ORDER!" Her chest heaved, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she yanked against the handcuffs, the metal biting into her wrists. "You're making the biggest mistake of your lives!"
The door burst open. Four more officers stormed in, their guns drawn, their faces twisted in confusion. "John! Larry! What the fuck are you doing?!" one of them barked, rushing toward the two hypnotized officers. "Let go of Ma'am Jayden—NOW!"
But John and Larry didn't react. They stood like statues, their grips unyielding, their expressions blank.
One of the officers lunged at me, his hand grabbing my shoulder, yanking me out of the chair. "You're coming with us, now—"
I didn't even stand.
I just looked at him.
My gaze locked onto his, and his body went rigid. His fingers twitched, his breath stuttering in his throat. "Kill those two policemen," I ordered, my voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes glazed over. He turned, his movements jerky, unnatural, as he drew his service pistol. The room erupted into chaos.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, MARTIN?!" one of the officers shouted, but it was too late.
Two gunshots rang out, sharp and deafening. The bullets found their marks—right between the eyes of the two officers who had tried to stop John and Larry. Their bodies crumpled to the floor, blood pooling beneath their heads, their lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling.
Jayden's scream tore through the room. "NO! NO, NO, NO—WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!" Her voice cracked, her body trembling violently against the handcuffs. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks as she stared at the bodies, then at me, then back at the bodies. "You—you monster—you killed them! You made him kill them!"
I finally stood, brushing imaginary dust off my sleeves. The remaining officers stood frozen, their guns wavering between their fallen comrades and me. I could see the terror in their eyes, the realization dawning on them like a death sentence.
I turned to Jayden, my smile slow, deliberate. "You wanted to play, Officer," I said, my voice dripping with mock sympathy. "But you didn't know the stakes."
She shook her head frantically, her breath coming in sobs. "This—this isn't possible... You can't—you can't control people like this!" Her voice broke, her body convulsing as she pulled against the handcuffs, the metal digging into her skin. "Please... please, just stop this!"
I crouched in front of her, my finger tilting her chin up so she had no choice but to meet my gaze. "You wanted to break me, Officer," I murmured. "But you didn't realize one thing."
Her lips trembled, her tears streaming freely. "W-what?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
I smiled. "I don't break."
The last two officers backed up, their faces ashen. One of them raised his hands, his voice shaking. "Please—please, man, we don't want any trouble—"
I didn't even look at him. "Shoot them," I said to the officer under my control.
Jayden's voice broke into a desperate wail. "NO! PLEASE, GOD, NO—STOP! I'LL DO ANYTHING! JUST STOP!" She thrashed in the chair, her screams filling the room as the gunshots echoed again.
Silence.
The room was a graveyard. Four bodies lay sprawled across the floor, blood seeping into the cracks of the linoleum. Jayden was hyperventilating, her body shaking so hard the chair rattled. The two officers under my command stood motionless, their guns still smoking.
I crouched in front of Jayden again, gripping her chin harder, forcing her to look at me. "You wanted to arrest me," I said, my voice a low, dangerous purr. "You wanted to interrogate me. You thought you were so clever, didn't you?"
She sobbed, her entire body wracked with tears. "I—I didn't know—" she choked out, her voice barely a whisper. "Please... I have a family—a daughter—please, just let me go—"
I tilted my head, my thumb brushing away a tear from her cheek. "A daughter?" I repeated, my voice mockingly gentle. "How old is she, Jayden?"
"Nineteen...." she stuttered, her breath hitching. "Please... I'm begging you... don't hurt her—"
I stood, my expression cold. "Hurt her?" I said, my voice dripping with feigned offense. "Jayden, Jayden... I'm not a monster." I leaned down, my lips brushing her ear as I whispered, "But you're going to wish I was when I'm done with you."
She let out a broken, desperate cry. "NO! PLEASE—" Her body convulsed, her screams raw and animalistic. "I'LL TELL EVERYTHING! JUST DON'T TOUCH MY DAUGHTER!"