Chapter 109: A Grind on my Face (R-18)
Life has a way of throwing curveballs you’d never see coming, moments so wild they feel like dreams, stitching together a reality you couldn’t imagine. My life was proof of that—a kid who stumbled into working at Heaven’s Feel, a high-end brothel, sleeping with high-profile clients, their secrets as heavy as my own. There was the time Aeri’s best friend, Sara, showed up as a client, her blackmail hanging over me like a blade and making me satisfy her all the time. And then there was Aeri herself, my stepmom, the woman I fell in love with, her warmth and love which I didn’t deserve.
Now, here I was, lying on a black leather bed in a red room on the fourth floor, the air thick with musk and sandalwood, candles flickering, low music humming—paled by the surreal truth hovering above me: Elizabeth, the First Lady, the president’s wife, her body clad in black lace lingerie.
"Hey, sweetheart..." Elizabeth said, her voice low and sultry, her fingers tracing my cheeks, her nails grazing my skin, her eyes staring down at me, dark and turned on, her cleavage spilling from her bra, her boobs barely contained, the lace straining against her curves. She leaned closer, her hair brushing my face, her breath warm, her presence overwhelming, the red room’s hypnotic air wrapping us in its spell.
"Hey..." I replied, my voice low, my eyes locked on hers, my hands gripping the leather.
She smiled, a slow, knowing curve of her lips, her fingers trailing to my eyes, her touch light but electric. "Ahh, man... you’re just like she described you..." she said, her voice teasing, her tongue flicking out, licking my cheek, the wet warmth sending a jolt through me.
"Who?" I asked, my voice soft, my mind racing—someone had talked about me, recommended me, brought the First Lady here, to this red room, to me.
"Mrs. Elora," Elizabeth said, her voice straightforward, and then—*RIP*—her hands grabbed my t-shirt collar, tearing it open with a sharp rip, the fabric splitting, cool air hitting my chest.
"Ahh..." I groaned, my breath catching, my chest exposed, my abs tightening under her gaze, the torn t-shirt hanging off my shoulders.
"Fucking hell, baby," she said, her voice husky, her lips following, kissing, licking, her saliva warm and slick, trailing sensations that made my pulse spike, her mouth moving lower, smooching my abs.