NTR: The live-in-husband gets a perverted heart system

Tom had waited long enough.

The silence from Stella had become a living thing in the room, pressing against his ribs every time he checked his phone and found nothing.

"I should definitely do something else other than waiting..." He concluded.

He left his phone face-down on the nightstand, stripped, and stepped into the shower. Hot water hammered his shoulders. He washed with slow movements, trying to force the ticking deadline out of his head. Steam filled the bathroom. His cock hung heavy between his legs, still half-sensitive from the videos the System had made him study.

He was rinsing the last of the soap when he started hearing knocks on his door.

Three firm taps.

Tom shut off the water and listened. The housekeeper was gone. That left only the kitchen assistant or one of the remaining staff. He stepped out, water still running down the lines of his stomach, and reached for the towel. He tied it low on his hips, the thick weight of his cock shifting visibly against the fabric as he moved.

He walked into the bedroom, still dripping, and called toward the door.

"Give me a moment to get dressed."

No answer.

The handle turned instead and the door opened.

And Stella Marchetti stepped inside and closed it behind her with a soft click.

Tom’s mouth parted.

She stood there in a short black dress that looked painted onto her body. The neckline plunged low enough to show the full inner curves of her breasts and the dark valley between them. The hem sat high on her thighs. Her hair was down, slightly tousled, and her eyes moved over him with open, unhurried interest as she stared at his bare chest, water droplets still trailing toward the towel, her eyes catching the clear, heavy outline of his cock beneath it.

For a second the old nerves tried to rise. Tom hadn’t been expecting her like this. He was flustered, not knowing how to handle this. He didn’t even know what to say to her. However, the System crushed those old nerves lacking confidence, before they could form.

[Do not waste the preparation. You studied how to handle a woman like her. Use it.]

Tom forced his shoulders to stay open. He kept his voice steady, low, the same unhurried tone he had listened to in the videos.

Stella’s gaze returned to his face and he held her gaze.

"How did you know I set up the hotel?" she asked. No greeting. No apology for walking into his room uninvited.

[She likes confident, dominant, intelligent men,] [Give her that.] the System murmured.

Tom let a small, controlled smile touch his mouth. He took one slow step closer.

"I just knew," he said. His eyes dropped deliberately to her chest, lingering on the way the tight fabric stretched across her nipples. "But we both know you didn’t come here to ask questions. You came because watching me through a camera wasn’t enough anymore."

Stella’s lips curved. Heat flickered behind her eyes at that bluntness.

"Yes."

Tom’s gaze dragged down her body again, open and shameless. The Flirty book’s lessons and the rough, commanding scenes from the videos sat ready behind his teeth.

"That dress is doing the exact same thing your blouse did the first time I saw you. It’s stretched so tight across your tits it’s practically begging me to pull it down. You wore it knowing I’d look. You wanted me to see how hard your nipples already are." he said.

Stella’s breathing had changed - not dramatically, but enough. She didn’t step back.

Tom closed the remaining distance until only a few inches separated them. The towel tented clearly between their bodies. He kept his voice calm, almost conversational, the same tone the men in the videos had used when they stopped asking and started telling.

"My cock has been heavy since I sent that email. It’s been worse since I started waiting for your response that never came. So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to take that dress off when I tell you to. And you’re going to let me use that mouth and those tits the way I’ve been thinking about since you had me cuffed to a chair."

Stella’s eyes narrowed slightly, but the flush rising on her chest gave her away.

"We should go somewhere else to get comfortable." she said. Her voice was still bold, still challenging.

Tom shook his head once.

"No. You came to my room. You locked the door behind you. We’re doing this here." He glanced at the bed, then back at her. "Everything I need is already in front of me."

The silence stretched. Stella studied him for a long moment, measuring the difference between the man she had watched through cameras and the one standing in front of her now. Then she reached behind her and turned the lock a second time, as if confirming it. The click was soft and final.

Tom’s pulse hammered, but he did not let it reach his voice. He kept his eyes on hers and gave the next order the same way the men in the videos had - calm, certain, offering no room for debate.

"Show me those nipples. The ones that need to be sucked."

Stella’s breath caught. For a fraction of a second pride and arousal warred openly on her face. Then her hands rose. She pushed the thin straps of the dress down her shoulders slowly. The fabric slid over her breasts and caught on the tight peaks before she tugged it lower, freeing them completely. They were full, heavy, the nipples already dark and hard.

She stood there, bare to the waist, waiting.

Tom’s cock twitched hard under the towel. He still did not rush.

"How do you want them sucked?" he asked in a low voice.

Stella’s answer came out rougher than before.

"Nothing gentle."

Tom smiled slowly;

"Perfect. Because I do not plan to be gentle on them." He replied.

He closed the last inch of space between them. One hand slid around her waist, palm firm against the small of her back, holding her in place. He lowered his head and took her left nipple into his mouth without teasing. He sucked hard, drawing the peak deep, tongue working against it in rough, rhythmic pressure.

Stella’s hands flew to his shoulders as a sharp, broken sound left her throat.

Tom did not soften.

He switched to the other breast with the same deliberate force, teeth grazing just enough to make her hips jerk. The towel between them was barely holding. His cock pressed against her bare stomach through the fabric, thick and obvious. He kept her there, mouth working steadily, one hand splayed on her back so she couldn’t step away, taking his time exactly the way the videos had shown him - controlling the pace, controlling the pressure, making her feel every second of it.

Stella’s fingers dug into his skin. Her head tipped back. The dress hung at her waist, forgotten. Every rough pull of his mouth dragged another sound out of her, reluctant and needy at the same time.

Tom’s confidence was not natural. It was built from the System’s training, from the filthy lines he had practised from that Flirty book he read only once to memorize everything inside, from the knowledge that this woman had already watched him at his most exposed and still walked into his room dressed like this. It sat in his chest like something newly forged and still hot.

He lifted his head just enough to speak against her wet nipple, voice calm and shameless.

"These are going to look even better when they’re red and swollen from my mouth. Keep your hands on my shoulders. I’m not finished with them yet."

Stella’s breath shuddered.

She did not move her hands.

The mission timer continued its quiet countdown in the corner of his vision, but for the first time it felt less like a threat and more like a clock measuring how long he could keep her like this - bare, breathing hard, and exactly where he wanted her.

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