She pressed closer, eliminating the last inch of space between them. Her body molded against his—soft breasts against his hard chest, her stomach against his, her thighs against his. The thin dress did absolutely nothing to create a barrier. It was like touching bare skin, feeling every warm curve, every soft inch of her.
"I was so focused on my grief, I didn't see it," Elena continued, her voice dropping even lower, becoming intimate. "Didn't see you. But I see you now, Max. I see how strong you are. How powerful. How... attractive."
"Thomas was a good man," she whispered, and there was no sadness in her voice now. Only hunger. "But he was just a man. A woodworker. A dreamer. He gave me comfort, a child. But he never gave me this."
She rolled her hips against him, and Max felt her heat even through his corrupted body. "This feeling. This want. This need."
"This isn't you talking," Max repeated desperately, but he couldn't pull away.
One of her legs hooked around his, pulling him even closer. Her thigh slid up his leg, and suddenly they were close in the most intimate way possible.
"Every night since Thomas died," Elena whispered, ignoring his protest, "when I close my eyes, I see you. Feel you. Imagine what it would be like if you touched me the way a woman wants to be touched."
Her free hand took his corrupted hand and guided it deliberately, slowly, to her waist. His fingers flexed involuntarily, and Elena made a soft, encouraging sound that went straight to his core.
"I imagine your hands on me," she continued, her breath hot against his lips. "I imagine them sliding under this dress. Touching places Thomas used to touch."
She guided his hand higher, up the curve of her waist to her ribs, and Max could feel her breathing racing. Could feel the underside of her breast.
"I imagine you being rough with me," Elena moaned softly, her own hand covering his.
She moved his hand further and suddenly Max's palm was filled with her breast—soft, warm, perfect. He could feel her nipples, now hard and aroused.
"Like this," Elena gasped, her back arching to press herself more fully into his hand.
Max's fingers tightened reflexively, and Elena's head fell back, a moan escaping her lips that was pure pleasure.
"You could have me," she breathed, and Max felt himself hardening despite everything. "My will." Her hand slid down from his neck, over his chest, his stomach. "My soul." Lower still, and then finally around his cock through the pants. "Just reach out and take it."
She squeezed him through the fabric, her hand moving slowly. Max gasped, his hips jerking forward involuntarily into her touch.
"You're so hard," Elena whispered, sounding pleased, almost proud. "Your body knows what it wants even if your mind is still fighting. But why fight? What's wrong with pleasure? With desire? With taking what's freely offered?"
"Use your corruption on me," she continued, her hand still working him through his pants. "Make me forget Thomas ever existed." she gasped, pleasure building in her voice.
"I'll cook for you. Clean for you. Warm your bed every night. Wake you with my mouth. Let you bend me over any surface you want and take me however you need. I'll be your personal whore if that's what you want. Just please, please make this ache stop."
Max wanted to push her away, wanted to scream that this was wrong, but part of him whispered that maybe she would.
That widows got lonely. That grief made people desperate for comfort, for touch, for someone to make them feel alive again. That if he just used a little corruption, bent her will just slightly, she would want exactly this and never know the difference.
His hand tightened on her breast, fingers digging in almost roughly.
"Mmhh... Yes," she moaned loudly. "Yes, like that. Harder."
Then, impossibly, another figure appeared behind Elena.
Velara.
Not her avatar—her real-world form. That stunning beauty from the registration day at the ATH facility. She wore the same outfit—pink skirt that ended mid-thigh, black leggings and the fitted black vest over a white blouse.
But everything was different now. The vest hung open, completely unbuttoned. The white blouse underneath was partially undone, revealing the pale skin of her chest.
Her hair flowed around her shoulders, perfectly styled yet somehow disheveled. Those sharp gray eyes were heavy-lidded now, pupils dilated with undisguised desire.
The pink skirt was shorter than he remembered, or maybe she'd hitched it up. Either way, it barely covered the tops of her thighs.
He forced his eyes up, but that was worse. The open vest and blouse framed her chest perfectly, drawing the eye to the black lace bra and the swell of her breast.
"Max," Velara said, her voice like honey and sin. "I've been looking for you everywhere."
She moved with gracefully, circling around Elena until both women surrounded him.
Up close, Max could see more details. Her lipstick was smudged slightly, like she'd been biting her lips. Her mascara was a bit smudged too, giving her a bedroom look that was impossibly sexy.
"Do you know how rare you are?" Velara whispered, her thumb caressing his black lips. "In a world where everyone buys their power, you are earning yours. Climbing up with sheer will."
Her thumb pushed past his lips slightly, and Max's mouth opened involuntarily.
"That's so much more attractive than any amount of money," Velara continued.
She pulled her thumb from his mouth slowly, and Max saw it was wet with his saliva. She then brought it to her own lips and sucked it clean, maintaining eye contact the entire time.