Not the cock-addicted pervert who had been sucking his balls three minutes ago. Not the teary-eyed MILF who had been trembling with fear in the war room.
This was something else. Her posture was straight — spine aligned, shoulders back, chin level.
Her naked body — still thick, still heavy-titted, still wide-hipped — carried itself with an authority that radiated outward like heat from a forge. Her green eyes were sharp. Focused. Not on his cock. Not on the baby. On the window. On the distant horizon where an army waited.
The power transfer had done more than give her abilities. It had given her 'purpose.'
Viktor felt it — a flicker, brief, instinctive. The faintest sense of inferiority. Not submission. Not fear. Just the recognition that the woman standing before him was no longer just his wife. She was something else. Something that had been sleeping inside the perverted MILF and had been awakened by the combined power of every woman he had ever fucked.
