Chapter 49: Sex Addict (Minimal R-18)

Chapter 49: Sex Addict (Minimal R-18)Madison:"Free? Baby, I’m ALWAYS free for you. Pick you up in 20 ????" Girl’s really working through years of sexual frustration like it’s her new full-time career. She’s putting more energy into this than most people put into their actual jobs. Twenty minutes later, I heard the purr of an engine outside that’s definitely not her BMW. I looked out the window to see Madison behind the wheel of a sleek white Range Rover, looking like she’d just stepped out of a luxury SUV commercial for rich girls with daddy issues. Apparently wealthy bitches have different cars for different moods. "Must be nice to have a whole fleet just sitting around." I am coming to such like soon. When I walked outside, Mom was watering her sorry looking little garden on the front porch. Madison rolled down the window and flashed that perfect rich girl smile—the one that probably costs more to maintain than our monthly grocery budget. "Good evening, Mrs. Carter," she said with the kind of politeness that could win awards. "I hope you don’t mind me borrowing Peter for a few hours." The sweetness is so artificial it could cause diabetes, but Mom’s buying it completely. "Of course, dear. Just have him back at a reasonable hour." If only she knew what "borrowing Peter" actually involved these days. The moment I slid into the Range Rover, Madison’s hand was on my thigh and her eyes had that hungry, predatory look that means she’s been thinking about me all day. The leather seats were still warm from the heated settings, and everything smelled like expensive perfume and sexual tension. "There’s a playground about five minutes away," she said, already pulling out of my driveway. "Very private, very secluded. Perfect for what I have in mind." "My girlfriend has officially become a sexual predator, and honestly? I’m not complaining. * The playground was completely abandoned at this hour, surrounded by trees that provided perfect cover from any nosy locals. Madison parked in the deepest shadows and turned to me with those dark eyes that promised trouble. Rich girl’s about to get everything she’s been craving since this morning. She lunged across the center console and crashed her lips against mine, kissing me with the desperation of someone who’d been fantasizing about this moment all fucking day. Her hands were already roaming, pulling at my shirt while her tongue explored my mouth like she was trying to claim territory. The hunger in her kiss was intense—pure, unfiltered need that made my enhanced senses go wild, gripping my shirt suggested she wasn’t planning on taking this slow. "I’ve been going insane thinking about you," she whispered between aggressive kisses. "About what you did to me in the library. About how you completely owned me." Her kisses became more demanding, more possessive. She was biting my lower lip, sucking on my tongue, making these little moaning sounds that went straight to my dick. "Back seat," she commanded, already climbing over the console with the grace of someone who’d done this before. "Right fucking now." I followed her into the spacious back of the Range Rover, the leather seats providing the perfect stage for whatever Madison had planned. The tinted windows made everything feel private, like we were in our own little world. She straddled my lap and grabbed my face with both hands, staring into my eyes with an intensity that bordered on worship. "Transform for me," she whispered, her voice thick with need. "I want my daddy. I want my master." She knows exactly what she’s asking for, and exactly what it does to me. The familiar surge of power flowed through my body as I shifted into Dark Lord mode. My height increased, muscles refined, facial features sharpened into that dangerous perfection that makes women lose their minds. The bronze eyes with gold flecks locked onto hers, and I watched her pupils dilate with pure, unfiltered lust. "That’s my devil," she breathed, running her hands over my enhanced chest like she was worshipping a statue. "That’s who I belong to." "Damn right that’s who you belong to." What followed was Madison taking complete control, positioning herself above me and slowly lowering herself down with a gasp that echoed through the vehicle. Her head fell back as she adjusted to my size as I adjusted to make her feel good than punish her, hands gripping my shoulders for support. The sight of Madison Torres riding me in the back of her Range Rover was better than any fantasy I’ve ever had. She found her rhythm quickly, moving with a confidence that came from knowing exactly what she wanted and how to get it. Every movement was deliberate, every angle calculated for maximum pleasure—both hers and mine. "You feel so fucking incredible," she moaned, her pace increasing as she lost herself in the sensation. "No one else will ever compare to this. No one." Damn right they won’t. My enhanced stamina kicked in, allowing me to match her intensity for as long as she needed. And trust me—she needed a lot. Madison Torres was working through years of built-up sexual energy, and I was giving her everything she’d been missing. Years of sexual frustration don’t get resolved in just one or two sessions. * An hour later, Madison was collapsed against my chest, sweaty and completely satisfied, looking at me like I was some kind of deity who’d just descended from heaven specifically to fuck her brains out. "Jesus Christ, Peter," she panted, her voice wrecked. "How are you even real? How is any of this real?" ’Because billions of sexually frustrated women around the world manifested me into existence through their collective need, but that’s probably too cosmic for post-sex conversation. After we cleaned up and got back to the front seats, Madison’s expression shifted from post-orgasmic bliss to that strategic planning mode that makes her so fucking useful. This is why I love this girl—she can go from screaming my name to helping me build a sexual empire. "Okay," she said, fixing her hair in the mirror with practiced efficiency. "You want access to high society women who need liberation. I know exactly where you need to be." "First option: the Voyeur Wellness Center," she began, settling into full business mode. "It’s not just some basic spa, Peter. This place is a full-service wellness sanctuary for the elite women of California. We’re talking comprehensive packages—therapeutic massage, aromatherapy, skincare treatments, chakra alignment, tantric breathing sessions, even private yoga instruction. But behind this facade there is something else..."