Infinite Cashback System

Chapter 306: 306 | The Magic Moaning Suit

Chloe laughed against his neck, breathless, her lips brushing his pulse. "You’re overthinking. You always overthink. I can see your jaw doing the thing."

"My jaw is doing a very reasonable thing."

"Your jaw needs to relax." She caught his earlobe between her teeth, and the sound she made when she did it, this soft desperate whine that didn’t belong to Calypso or campus Chloe or any version she showed the world, went straight through him like voltage through a wire. "The suit’s making me feel like I’m going to combust. Every nerve ending is screaming. I need you to touch me. Just touch me. Please."

The please did it. It always did it, and she knew that, and Jordan knew she knew that, and he was so far past caring that the observation barely registered as conscious thought.

His hands found her waist, sliding under the pink sweater to bare skin, and Chloe arched into the contact with a full-body shudder that started at her spine and worked outward.

"Aah." Her nails dug into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. "Okay, that’s, mm, that’s so much more than normal. The charm thing makes everything so, oh my god, I can feel your fingerprints."

"You want to stop?"

"If you stop I will actually end you. Violently. With my hands."

"Just checking the terms."

He walked her backward until her hips hit the counter, right next to the cursed incest card, which he made a mental note to burn later with lighter fluid and maybe a prayer, and lifted her onto the quartz in one motion that made her gasp like he’d knocked the air out of her lungs.

The bunny ears tilted sideways as her head fell back, and Jordan caught the line of her exposed throat with his mouth, dragging his lips down the column of her neck, and the sound she made bounced off the concrete floor and the factory windows and probably straight through the wall into Unit 403 where nobody was home to hear it, which was the only mercy in this entire situation.

"Jordan." His name came out ragged, split down the middle, like she’d torn it in half trying to get it out. Her legs wrapped around him, the sheer tights sliding against his jeans with a friction that made his brain shut off entirely, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them. "The walls are thin. Mrs. Kowalski’s going to call the cops. She’s going to file a noise complaint with diagrams."

"You’re the one who put on the magic moaning suit."

"It’s not a magic moaning suit, it’s a, haah, it’s a charm enhancement, there’s a difference-"

"Is there."

"Shut up and, ohh-" whatever she’d been about to say shattered completely as his hand slid down over the sheer fabric of the tights, palm pressing against the heat radiating through the thin material, and her whole body went rigid before arcing into him like he’d hit a switch. "That’s, that’s not fair, the tights make it, everything’s so sensitive, I can feel, I can feel everything, ah, ah, you’re not, you’re not playing fair-"

Jordan pulled back just enough to look at her, really look at her, and the air went out of his lungs.

Chloe Kim, perched on his kitchen counter in bunny ears that had gone completely sideways and a pregnancy suit they were absolutely not using as intended, flushed deep pink from her collarbones all the way up to her hairline where her black hair stuck to her forehead in damp strands.

Her oversized sweater had bunched up under her arms in a way that would’ve looked ridiculous on anyone else, but on her it just drew attention to the bare strip of stomach between fabric and tights, the way her ribs expanded with each gasping breath. Her eyes were blown wide and glassy, pupils so dilated there was barely any color left.

Her thighs trembled where they locked around his hips, muscle tension visible even through the sheer fabric, and her hands had fisted in the front of his henley like she needed the anchor point or she’d float away entirely.

Not a single wall up. Not one layer of performance left. This was the version she never showed anyone, not her followers on Instagram, not her subscribers on OnlyFans, not even Alexis who thought she knew everything about her.

The girl under the mask under the mask under the careful smile she wore to every Econ lecture. And she was showing it to him in his kitchen at nine fifty at night on a Tuesday because somewhere in the last three weeks she’d decided he was safe enough to fall apart in front of.

Something in his chest cracked open that had nothing to do with arousal and everything to do with the fact that an hour ago the System had offered him a magic cage and he’d said no.

"You’re staring," she managed.

"I’m allowed to stare. You’re mine."

She whimpered at that, an actual whimper, her hips grinding forward against his hand. "Say it again."

"You’re mine." His voice dropped, and this time he let the Alluring Whisper run through it on purpose, watched her eyes roll back and her whole body go liquid. "One hundred percent. Highest the System’s ever tracked. You could leave right now, walk out that door in a bunny costume and never look back, and I’d let you, because I didn’t lock you in. But you’re not going to. You know why?"

"Nnh-why-"

"Because you don’t want to." He leaned in, mouth at her ear. "You want to stay right here and let me ruin you on this counter until the whole building knows my name."

Chloe made a sound that wasn’t a word.

Her hands scrabbled at his henley, yanking it up, and Jordan let her pull it over his head and toss it somewhere behind him, probably onto the incest card, honestly a fitting fate. Her palms spread across his bare chest, mapping the muscle the Tune Up trait had given him, and she looked at him like she still couldn’t believe he was real even after all these weeks.

"The bunny ears stay on," she said.

"Obviously the bunny ears stay on."

His phone buzzed on the counter beside them.

Neither of them looked at it. Jordan already knew what it said. Some notification, some milestone, some cheerful gold-text celebration of a chemistry that had already maxed out and now had nowhere left to climb, and for once in his life he did not care what the number was, because the number wasn’t the point. The number had never been the point.

The girl in the bunny ears, whimpering his name into his shoulder while he held her together on his kitchen counter, that was the point.

"Bedroom," she breathed. "Or here. I don’t care. Just, haah, don’t stop, don’t you dare stop!"

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