Beast Gacha System: All Mine

THRUST!

The first thrust stole the air from her lungs.

SLAM!

The second made her see stars.

SLA—

By the third, Angela had forgotten how to do anything but moan his name and claw at the sheets, her body arching to meet his with every punishing stroke.

"Stevan—ah—fuck—" Her voice cracked, high and breathless. He was relentless, driving into her with raw, unhinged hunger he had only ever shown behind closed doors—bars—where no one else could see.

But they weren’t in the dungeon now. They were in her bed, in her palace, surrounded by the trappings of her former life, and the contrast made it all the more obscene.

"That’s it—" he growled, his hands pinned her hip to the mattress. "You do so well taking it."

Her legs wrapped around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back, and she pulled him deeper, gasping when he hit that spot inside her that made her vision blur.

He was drunk, but his body remembered everything. Every secret, every weakness, every place that made her scream. And he exploited every single one without mercy.

"You feel so fucking good, Princess—" he rasped against her throat, teeth scraping over her pulse. "So tight—so wet—fucking love your punishment, huh?"

"I was—ah—I was—" She couldn’t finish. The pleasure was building too fast, coiling low in her belly like a spring wound too tight.

He shifted his angle, and suddenly he was hitting that spot with every thrust, and she was gone, shattering around him with a scream that echoed off the walls.

But he didn’t stop. He fucked her through it, dragging her orgasm out until she was trembling and overstimulated, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

Then he pulled out, flipped her onto her stomach, and dragged her hips up until she was on her knees.

"One more," he said, and it wasn’t a request. "Give me one more, Princess."

Before she could catch her breath, he was inside her again, deeper than before, and she buried her face in the pillows to muffle her scream.

He rode her hard, his hands gripping her waist tight enough to leave bruises, and the wet, obscene sound of skin against skin filled the room.

She could feel him everywhere, inside her, around her, consuming her.

"Cum inside me—" she gasped, barely recognizable to her own ears. "Please, Stevan—fill me up—I want to feel it—*"

He let out a guttural sound, half growl and half moan, and then he was slamming into her one last time, burying himself to the hilt as his release flooded her. But—

"Do you like me?"

She should have been furious. This man had invaded her space, crawled into her bed, fucked her from front and behind like he owned her, and by any sane standard, that kind of audacity would have gotten him beheaded before sunrise.

But all she could do was ask that question. She turned toward him, pulling him into her embrace despite the mess and the sweat and the rapidly cooling aftermath, and she wondered.

Because that was all she could do, right? Wonder.

She reached out to trace her fingers along the sharp line of his jaw, not even expecting an answer.

"Do you like me, Stevan?"

Still, she asked again. Because she was Angela, and Angela was a fool when it came to this man.

Stevan, still buried inside her, didn’t answer for a long time. His breathing had slowed, but he hadn’t pulled away. His face was half-hidden in the curve of her neck, and she could feel the warmth of him.

"Why did you leave?" he asked at last.

Something stirred in Angela’s eyes. Her heart began to race again, faster, harder.

Stevan reminded her, "You said until I change my mind, you’d never—" He stopped himself, the words dying in his throat. She just listened.

"That place is the only place I can be with you," Stevan said finally. "You said it yourself."

"Why do you think that place is the only place you can be with me?" she asked.

"Because you’re the princess," Stevan said.

"Because you don’t want to marry a princess," Angela corrected.

Stevan flinched in her embrace.

"Quickly get hard again and fuck me again," Angela said suddenly. "Do it while the booze is still in effect."

"I’m not drunk," Stevan said. "I have high alcohol tolerance."

"That’s why you had to drink this much?"

"...Yes."

Angela smiled. "Can you act like this when sober?"

"Why?" Stevan asked.

"I like it. It fits my kink."

Stevan closed his eyes, his ears turning red.

"I was angry. Do you like me angry?" he whispered.

"If you do that to me whenever you’re angry, should I make you angry more often?" she whispered back.

"It feels like you only like my shameful sides," he said.

"Am I?" she asked.

"Don’t you?" He asked back, and his hips started rolling again.

In truth, Angela felt a bit too overstimulated from before. But even the ache in her pussy felt pleasurable when it was him. Everything felt pleasurable when it was him.

"I like everything you hold back... but everything you are is precious to me..." she whispered, tightening herself around him, and the soft moan that escaped his lips was worth every word.

"But I don’t even know much about your shameful sides..." Stevan bit her shoulder, not hard, but enough to make her gasp. "I’m always the one being ashamed... over and over..."

Angela’s heart leapt to her throat. Her face went so red she had to turn away. "Y-you just never see it when I’m ashamed... You always miss it..."

SLAM!

"Ah!"

Stevan’s cock hardened and expanded inside her. The sudden fullness made her see stars. Her body arched off the bed, and she clutched at his shoulders, nails digging in. He was still inside her, still moving, and now he was bigger, harder, more—everything.

He started thrusting, and the power of it was different than before. Not hard, but intense. Deep. A slow torture that made her feel every inch of him, every ridge, every pulse.

It was the difference between being struck by lightning and being slowly cooked alive by a fire of his making.

She pulled him down by the nape, kissing his lips. Even the smell and taste of ale on him was intoxicatingly good. Or perhaps that was just the brain damage from all the orgasms talking.

At this point, she couldn’t tell the difference, and she didn’t particularly care to.

Contracting the muscle of her inner walls, she saw his eyebrows moved down, frowning with pleasure. That little furrow between his brows was her new favorite thing.

He kissed her back hard when they suddenly heard—

Click.

Damon froze at the door.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!