Absolute Loser Becomes The Pleasure King Using Satan System

Chloe glared at the teenager, but the tension had finally broken. She smoothed her skirt, trying to reclaim her shattered dignity.

“Where are you going?” Chloe asked softly, her eyes darting to Mylo.

“I need a bath,” Mylo muttered, turning toward the hallway. “Before I lose my mind entirely.”

He locked the bathroom door behind him with a sharp click.

The second he was alone, Mylo leaned heavily against the sink, gripping the porcelain edges until his knuckles turned white.

His heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped animal. The air in his lungs felt impossibly hot.

The Sin of [Pleasure] was practically vibrating beneath his skin, furious and completely unsatisfied.

Being pressed flush against Chloe in the hallway had pushed him right to the absolute edge. The feeling of her soft breasts heaving against his chest, the scent of her vanilla perfume, the flushed, furious red of her cheeks…

Mylo stripped off his clothes with frantic, trembling hands. He kicked his jeans aside and stepped under the showerhead, twisting the cold water on full blast.

The freezing spray hit his back, but it did absolutely nothing to extinguish the boiling heat pooling in his groin.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but his cursed imagination immediately took over.

In the dark of his mind, the bathroom door clicked open.

He pictured Chloe stepping into the steam, her strict professional mask completely gone. He imagined the cold water soaking her tight blouse, the white fabric turning sheer and clinging desperately to the heavy, soft curves of her breasts.

God… Mylo groaned, bracing one hand against the wet tiles.

His mind didn’t stop there. He pictured Meha stepping up right behind him. He could almost feel the phantom touch of the older woman’s soft, mature hands sliding down his wet chest, her thick thighs pressing flush against his back.

He imagined Chloe sinking to her knees right in front of him in the shower, her beautiful, flushed face looking up at him with half-lidded, heavy eyes.

Mylo slammed his forehead lightly against the cool tile.

“Damn it,” he hissed through his teeth.

The aching tension between his legs was unbearable. It felt like his veins were filled with liquid fire.

Unable to take the torturous buildup for another second, his hand dropped down, wrapping tightly around his own aching length.

A sharp, ragged gasp tore from his throat.

The friction was an electric shock to his overloaded senses. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, his head thrown back as the steaming water cascaded over his tense, shivering muscles.

He stroked himself with frantic, desperate speed.

In his clouded, pleasure-addled mind, it was Chloe’s soft hands gripping him. It was Meha’s warm breath ghosting across his neck.

His hips snapped forward involuntarily, chasing the maddening high. The Sin of [Pleasure] amplified every single touch, turning his skin hypersensitive. Every slide of his hand sent shockwaves of raw, burning ecstasy straight to his brain.

His breathing turned into harsh, wet pants echoing off the shower walls.

“Fuck…” Mylo gritted his teeth, his pace turning furious.

The heat coiled tighter and tighter in his lower stomach, pooling into a dense, agonizing pressure. The mental image of Chloe’s soft, pink lips parting for him pushed him completely over the edge.

The dam finally broke.

“Chloe…” Mylo groaned, his voice hoarse and broken as the blinding wave of release crashed over him. “Meha…”

He slumped forward against the wet tiles, his entire body trembling as the hot, thick release spilled over his hand and washed away down the drain.

He stood there for a long time under the running water, panting heavily, waiting for the burning fire in his blood to finally cool down.

The click of the bathroom door left a heavy, awkward silence in the living room.

Chloe sat stiffly in the armchair. Aaina sat on the couch, swinging her legs.

“So,” Chloe sighed, brushing a strand of brown hair behind her ear. “Do you torment him like this every day?”

Aaina let out a genuine, childish giggle. “Only when he makes it easy. He acts all tough and grumpy, but he’s really fun to tease.”

Chloe couldn’t help but smile, the sheer panic from earlier completely fading away. “He certainly has a talent for attracting chaos.”

“You really aren’t his wife, huh?” Aaina tilted her head, looking at her curiously.

“I am his teacher,” Chloe corrected firmly, though her cheeks warmed slightly. “And a guest.”

The rhythmic sound of furious chopping drifted from the kitchen. Chloe stood up, smoothing her skirt.

“I should go help,” she said.

Aaina hopped off the couch. “I’ll come too! I want to see if she’s making dessert.”

They walked into the kitchen to find Meha frantically dicing bell peppers, practically sweating from the stress of having a ‘mature mistress’ in the house.

“Let me take over the vegetables,” Chloe offered, stepping up to the counter.

Meha nearly dropped her knife. “Oh, absolutely not! You are an honored guest! And a… highly respected twenty-eight-year-old professional! I cannot allow you to work!”

“Just give me a knife, Meha,” Chloe laughed softly, rolling up her sleeves with a gentle but firm authority. “I insist.”

Meha hesitated, but she couldn’t refuse the Deputy Head’s polite command.

Within minutes, the awkward tension in the kitchen completely melted. Aaina sat on a barstool, stealing slices of raw carrots while Meha and Chloe chopped and chatted, exchanging lighthearted complaints about Mylo’s hopeless lack of grocery-shopping skills.

Ten minutes later, Mylo stepped out of the hallway.

He paused at the edge of the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe.

The sight made his chest feel unexpectedly light. Meha was laughing at something Chloe said, while Aaina playfully bumped shoulders with the older woman. The apartment smelled like garlic, spices, and actual home-cooked food.

For a brief, quiet moment, Mylo just watched them, a genuine smile touching his lips.

“Look at this,” Mylo announced smoothly, stepping into the room. “I leave for ten minutes, and you three are already plotting against me.”

They all turned.

Mylo was wearing a fresh white t-shirt and loose sweatpants. His dark hair was still damp, hanging slightly over his forehead, completely stripping away his usual guarded edge.

Aaina rolled her eyes. “We were just talking about how you’d probably burn water.”

Mylo chuckled, stepping up to the island counter. He reached out and ruffled Aaina’s hair playfully.

“Keep talking, brat, and you don’t get any dinner,” he teased.

“Hey! Watch the hair, jerk!” Aaina swatted his hand away, crossing her arms with a fierce, pouty scowl that completely failed to hide her smile.

“I’ll set the table,” Mylo said, walking past the teenager.

He stepped right beside Chloe, reaching up to the cabinet directly above her head to grab the dinner plates.

As he reached up, his chest brushed lightly against Chloe’s shoulder.

Chloe froze.

A wave of his scent completely enveloped her. It was a clean, sharp mix of fresh soap and the masculine, damp heat of his skin right out of the shower.

Her breath hitched. She looked up at his relaxed, damp hair and the way his thin t-shirt clung to the broad muscles of his chest.

Suddenly, the reality of the situation crashed into her all at once.

She was standing in his kitchen. Cooking with his housekeeper. Laughing with his neighbor. Preparing to eat dinner together under the warm, yellow lights.

It felt incredibly, dangerously domestic. Like they were a real family.

Chloe’s heart did a frantic, heavy flutter against her ribs. A deep, rosy flush crept up her neck, instantly staining her cheeks.

“I… I can take those plates,” Chloe stammered, looking down at the cutting board to hide her burning face.

“I’ve got it, Miss Chloe,” Mylo smiled, completely oblivious to her internal panic as he carried the plates to the dining table.

Chloe bit her lower lip, pressing a cool hand against her warm cheek, wondering how on earth she was going to survive eating dinner across from him.