Chapter 397: [R18]After the Flood

The room was a total disaster area. The massive bed looked like a war zone.

From the pillows all the way to the frame, the sheets were heavy, sticky, and gross. Some spots were already cold, but the middle was still warm because two bodies had been glued together since dawn.

The morning light didn’t just show a few stains, it showed the whole damn mattress was ruined. It was soaked in sweat, her juices, and Nash’s cum. There were thick, white streaks of seed that had dried and then gotten wet again every time he’d rammed himself back inside her. The mess had leaked in maps all the way to the edge of the bed, onto the wood and the pillow hanging off the side.

Nash had been awake for a bit, but he didn’t move an inch.

He was still buried deep inside her, hard as a rock, tucked into a cunt that refused to let go. One of her thighs was draped across his stomach, and her bare ass was pressed tight against his hips. For once, he actually had a moment to think.

He stared up at the ceiling, his head feeling all foggy and dizzy.

He was actually surprised by his own limit last night. He wasn’t talking about the "System" or some invisible energy bar emptying out—he meant a real, physical limit. For once, he felt human. He’d pushed himself until he finally decided he’d had enough and just stopped.

His "Reciprocal Combustion" skill usually did miracles, basically recharging his stamina every time he shot his load inside her. But even miracles have a limit. He’d finally hit a wall somewhere after the thirty-second round, all because he was with a woman who refused to give up before he did.

He lay there on his back for a long time, letting his mind wander to everything he had to deal with now.

Victoria was pregnant.

That one fact changed everything. It flipped his priorities upside down. Now, Apex had to be crushed—and fast—before anyone in that organization realized the woman running Blacklist was expecting. Hector had to be killed for good, not just embarrassed in public. And Lorenzo, the ghost haunting all of this, had to go down too. Victoria couldn’t be fighting a war while carrying a baby.

Then there was Victoria herself. She was the first one to cross that line.

A thought popped into his head, and it felt obvious now that the new "parameter" was active: Zayela.

Zayela always let him finish inside her. She never asked for a condom and never made a fuss about it. One time, they had stayed connected for twenty-four hours straight—maybe that was the whole point? To do whatever it took to get this result.

She deserved the same thing Victoria got. The same certainty—a baby made of flesh, not just words.

He made a mental note: he was going to give a child to every single woman who chose to follow him into his house. Zayela was next on the list.

Right then, Victoria shifted against his chest.

She made a low sound, her eyes still closed. Her ass pressed harder against him, and her cunt gave a real, tight squeeze. It wasn’t just a sleep twitch; it was a hot, wet, trained clench that gripped the cock still buried inside her. A slow, warm line of cum leaked out from the base and ran between them over their sticky skin.

She opened her eyes and looked up at his jaw, smiling with a rough, sleepy voice. Her blonde hair was plastered to her cheek.

Nash slid his hand down the curve of her back, all the way down until he hit her ass. It was covered in his cum. The white stuff was stuck in her crack, cold in some spots and still slick under his fingers. It practically glowed when he spread her cheeks with his palm.

He rubbed her slowly, one cheek then the other, feeling the cum slide under his hand. He shook his head, still not pulling out.

"No way. I’m empty," he told her. "Nothing left to give you. Not this morning, anyway. My heart says yes, but my cock says pause."

She stared at him for a second, her smile changing.

The Nash she knew usually needed a whole team of women to get satisfied. He was the kind of guy who would empty a whole room and then ask for more. And yet, he had just said "no" on his own. He had actually stopped. She had pushed him to his absolute limit.

A surge of pride filled her chest, feeling even stronger than the sweet burn between her thighs or the way her knees were shaking.

She laughed against his mouth—a small, happy, slightly crazy sound. It was the smile of a woman who had won the night, not a boss closing a business deal.

"Okay, okay, honey. You can keep that face. I like it better than last night when you were thinking too much," she teased.

When she fully woke up, she saw him propped up on one elbow, just watching her. He reached out, moved a strand of hair away from her mouth, and looked at her closely.

"You were fantastic last night," he said. "The way you held on. Your body. Your head. Everything. I’ve never seen you like that."

Even though he knew that, with his new passive skill, Jaz would probably be the one to actually break him.

Victoria smiled, feeling touched by how honest he was. She tried to sit up, but her legs shook instantly and gave out.

"Easy," Nash said.

He already had one arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees. He lifted her up like she weighed nothing.

"My, what a tragedy. You actually dare to carry me like this?" she laughed. Her voice was soft, almost a little embarrassed that she had to be carried.

Nash sat up, feeling his lower back pull, and adjusted his grip to carry her.

She wasn’t light. She was a grown ass woman, with her own weight , but it meant little face to Nash’s strength. Her big tits were pressed against his chest and her ass was still shining with cum in the crook of his arm. This morning, she was finally finding out what a "princess carry" felt like.

But the fairy-tale feeling didn’t last long.

As he lifted her, a thick string of cum leaked out of her cunt, ran down the inside of her thigh, and landed right on his wrist. It was hot and gooey.

She felt it. She saw it. But she didn’t apologize.

Whatever was in her had come from him. This wasn’t some casual fling; they had basically fused together.

He carried her into the bathroom, her body tight against his and her breath still uneven against his throat. At the door, he set her down just enough so she could hold onto the doorframe.

She stood there for a few minutes, her legs barely strong enough to hold her up, watching Nash run hot water into the big tub.

With her hair stuck to her skin and her thighs still shining with his seed, she watched him for a second. Then, she gave a little jerk of her chin, smiling at his hesitation.

"What are you waiting for? An official invite from the league? Get in," she teased.

Nash smiled.

The water was already steaming up the tiles.

He got in first, sitting with his back against the rim, the water coming up to his waist. She swung her legs over the sides and sat right on top of him, face to face. Her knees were pressed against the tub, her open cunt resting right above his cock, and her heavy tits right at the level of his mouth.

They used the soap first, rubbing it into their hands and then scrubbing each other’s skin. No washcloths—just hands.

His hands slid up the inside of her thighs, which were still sticky until the water started washing away the white cum. Then he moved to her stomach, and then her breasts, rubbing the hot flesh and pinching her nipples between his fingers until she opened her mouth in a long moan.

Her hands went down his chest, following the lines of his abs and lingering on every muscle under the water. She rubbed herself against him without actually taking him in, her sensitive slit sliding back and forth over the top of his cock. It was enough to make the water slap between them.

They washed like that, slow, hands everywhere, the bathwater getting a little cloudy between them.

When his thumbs brushed too close to her clit, she kissed him just so she wouldn’t moan too loud. They swapped tongues, their breaths hot, their foreheads pressed together.

As she arched into him, he had his mouth on the tip of one breast, his tongue licking her nipple, while one hand held her lower back tight against his hips.

His cock was already getting hard against her. He didn’t care if he was "empty" or if it was morning; she could feel it. She smiled into the kiss.

At the end, she leaned back to see his cock lifting in the dirty soapy water against her stomach.

Victoria tilted her head, her strength coming back even though her hair was wet and her thighs still shook. She held his chin with one wet finger.

"I’ve still got a little surprise for you."

She stood up out of the water and sat on the rim of the tub. She pressed her dripping tits together with her hands, a smirk on her face.

"Take this as my treat for this morning. Just relax and enjoy it."

She squeezed her tits tightly around his cock. They were hot, heavy, and slick with soap.

She moved down slowly the first time, the head of his cock appearing right under her mouth, a shining tip caught in her golden skin.

Up. Then down again.

The soft, heavy skin of her breasts wrapped around him on both sides. It was a hot rub—too clean and too dirty all at once.

She did it again, a bit faster this time, her tits slapping against his stomach. The head of his cock looked redder every time it popped out.

On the fourth stroke, she looked up at him, her mouth open just above it. He could feel her tongue tickle the slit of his cock.

An hour later, Victoria was standing in front of the big mirror in her room, fixing the folds of her house dress. She looked light and elegant—a total contrast to the mess she’d been a few minutes ago.

She took one last look at the bed behind her. Twisted sheets and marks everywhere.

"It’s horrible to imagine a human actually sleeping on that. I guess I’ll just borrow your room tonight," she said with a little laugh.

"Funny you say that," Nash said, appearing behind her in the mirror, already dressed. "I wanted to talk about that. The house staff."

"Right. The staff. I forgot," Victoria said, turning to him.

"Yeah. We need to start hiring. A lot of people," Nash continued. "Cleaning, kitchen, all of it. It’s going to be a lot of work. And we urgently need nurses. For later."

Victoria raised an eyebrow, amused by how specific he was.

"Nurses already?"

"Might as well get ahead of it," Nash said, not feeling any shame.

She laughed and shook her head.

"My, my. How sweet of my man, planning so far ahead for me. Fine, let me handle it. I’ll find people today. If you have anyone in mind, tell me. And honestly," she added with a wicked smile, "I can’t wait to see the looks on the new hires’ faces when they see what our room looks like after a night like that."

Nash laughed too. He stepped in and wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"You were incredible last night," he whispered in her ear. "Really."

Victoria leaned back into him. She turned her head just enough to give him a soft kiss. Her hands covered his where they were crossed over her stomach.

She answered the kiss gently. It was quiet and sweet, a far cry from the fever of the night before. Just two people who loved each other.

The kiss lasted for a bit. It was chaste at first.

Then Nash’s hands started moving again, almost on their own. They went down her dress, his palms squeezing her ass.

Victoria laughed against his mouth and pulled away slightly.

"You really are insatiable."

"A little," Nash admitted. "Speaking of which, we need to plan that weird little wish of yours."

Victoria’s eyes went wide, and a real blush spread across her face.

"You... you really have no sense of mood!"

Nash didn’t say anything.

He turned her around slowly. His hands slid under the light fabric of her dress, up her thighs, under her panties, and along her sensitive crack until he found the exact spot they were talking about.

A finger teased the tight ring of her asshole. It was hot and small. He pressed and turned the pad of his finger just slightly without actually going in—just enough to make her shiver.

Victoria let out a short moan. Her fingers gripped his forearm instinctively, looking for something to hold onto.

"We’re going to work on it," Nash said, his voice low against her neck. "But not this morning. Next time. First, you need training. I’m not taking you there the way I took you everywhere else. I’ll buy the tools we need."

Victoria looked away, feeling a bit embarrassed. Her voice sounded less confident.

"You talk about putting things in my ass like you’re talking about a construction drill, Nash. I can do that myself."

Nash didn’t answer right away. He just watched her reaction with a small smile.

He didn’t need to check her System window in that moment. He was already used to reading her without needing a screen. He could tell exactly what that embarrassment meant. It was another kink—the same desire to be taken, marked, and dirtied by him.

"No chance. Victoria Graves is not going to be seen buying butt plugs. And it’ll be fun to see your face when I show you what I picked for you."

He said it simply, with a calm smile.

She pouted, her lip sticking out more than a woman who runs Blacklist should.

"Do what you want," she accepted.

Nash teased her again, more freely this time.

His finger came back, turning and pressing, sliding along the ring without forcing his way in. His other hand squeezed her cheek through the dress, the flesh spilling between his fingers.

He watched her in the mirror. Her dress was lifted in one hand, her panties pushed aside, and her face was flushed. Her mouth was open in a moan she couldn’t stop. He was behind her, calm and already focused on what was coming.

There was only one step left before the race for the throne.

The last obstacle. The first real test for the new Blacklist. Against the worst opponent the league had to offer.

The defending champions.

The Colossus.