The Heart System

Chapter 413: Chapter 413

Nala leaned in and bit down on my shoulder—teeth sinking in just enough to sting—muffling the moan that tried to tear out of her throat. Her whole body locked up: thighs clamping around my waist, nails digging into my back, pussy spasming violently around my cock in long, rolling waves.

She came hard—silently at first, then a choked, desperate whimper against my skin as the pleasure crashed through her. Her walls milked me in rhythmic pulses—tight, fluttering, relentless—pulling me deeper, dragging me right to the edge.

I couldn’t hold back.

The first spurt hit deep—hot, thick—flooding her as I groaned into her hair. Then another, and another, rope after rope pumping into her while her pussy kept clenching, drawing it out, milking every drop. My hips jerked with each pulse; I could feel the warmth spreading inside her, the excess already starting to leak out around my shaft, dripping down her ass crack and onto the edge of the desk.

I kept thrusting—slow, shallow now—riding the aftershocks, pushing the last weak spurts deeper while she trembled against me.

Nala let her head fall back against the glass, eyes half-lidded, lips parted in a dazed, blissful smile. Sweat glistened on her dark skin, making it glow under the office lights. Her hair—usually so perfectly pinned—was a wild halo now, strands clinging to her forehead and neck. Her blouse hung uselessly open, breasts rising and falling with heavy breaths, nipples still hard and dark against her flushed chest.

I stayed buried inside her a moment longer, cock twitching lazily, giving one last gentle grind to coax out the final drops.

Then I eased out slowly.

Cum immediately welled up—thick, white, creamy—oozing from her swollen entrance in slow, lazy rivulets. It slid down her dark folds, coated her inner thighs, dripped in fat beads onto the floor. Her pussy pulsed once… twice… pushing out another small gush that ran down to her ass.

I gave her ass a light, affectionate smack, just enough to make the flesh jiggle and force another trickle of my cum to spill free.

Nala chuckled, breathless, sated, a little delirious.

“God… you always make such a mess,” she murmured, voice husky.

I kissed her softly—once on the lips, once on the corner of her mouth—then stepped back, cock finally softening, still shiny with both of us.

She stayed leaning against the glass for a second longer, legs shaky, chest heaving, looking thoroughly fucked and beautiful.

No system reward again. Fuck. This sucked.

I stared at the empty notification bar in my vision for a second longer than I should have, a dull frustration settling in my gut. I’d dumped everything into Bliss Multiplier thinking the EXP flood from sex would carry me for months. Instead, the system had quietly nerfed the gains because of my reputation—sexual activity now giving scraps, barely enough to move the needle. I regretted it hard. Should’ve bought Reputation Points. Positive ones. Something to claw my way out of the “villain” tag that kept following me like a bad smell. Now I was stuck. Carrie was off the table—I’d literally told her to vanish on a vacation from everything, including me. No more booty calls, no more easy EXP. That left quests. The boring, grindy, actual-work kind.

I exhaled through my nose and turned my attention back to Nala.

She was now leaning against the edge of her desk, legs slightly parted, breathing in slow, recovering pulls. Cum still leaked from her in thick, lazy drops—white against her dark skin, sliding down the inside of her thigh in slow rivulets before she reached for the pack of wet wipes she kept in the top drawer for exactly this reason.

She pulled one out, unfolded it carefully, and started cleaning herself with unhurried, almost sensual motions. First between her legs—gentle swipes along her swollen lips, gathering the creamy mess I’d left inside her. The wipe came away glistening; she folded it over and went again, slower this time, dragging the cool cloth over her clit just enough to make her hiss softly through her teeth. Her other hand braced on the desk; her breasts swayed gently with each movement, nipples still dark and peaked from earlier. She wiped down her inner thighs next—long strokes that left her skin shiny and clean—then folded the wipe again and dabbed at the sticky trail that had run down toward her knee.

Every motion was fucking hypnotizing, almost performative. She knew I was watching. She arched her back a little more than necessary when she reached behind to clean between her cheeks, letting out a quiet, satisfied hum when the cool wipe grazed her still-sensitive rim.

Hot. So fucking hot.

I stepped up behind her before she could finish.

My cock, still slick, still half-hard, nudged against her entrance. I pushed in slow, just the head at first, then deeper, stirring the cum still inside her. She gasped, hands flying to the desk edge for balance. I pulled out slowly, watching a fresh gush of my own release coat my shaft as I withdrew. Then I pushed back in again. Out. In. Out. Each stroke dragged more of the thick white cream out of her until my cock was glistening with it, coated from base to tip.

I stepped back.

“Now it’s your turn to clean me, Mrs. Nolin.”

Nala chuckled—low, throaty, still a little breathless. She turned, sank gracefully to her knees, and wrapped her lips around me without hesitation.

She took me deep right away, slow suction that pulled the mess off my shaft in long drags of her tongue. She swirled around the head, collecting every drop, then bobbed lower, cheeks hollowing as she sucked the cum from the underside, from the veins, from the sensitive frenulum. Her tongue flattened and lapped upward like she was savoring an ice cream cone, humming softly in her throat when she tasted us mixed together. Spit and cum dribbled from the corners of her mouth; she didn’t care. She just kept going—deeper, slower, until her nose brushed my pubic bone and she held there, throat fluttering around me, swallowing what she could.

When she finally pulled off, lips shiny and swollen, she licked me clean one last time—base to tip—then sat back on her heels with a smug little smile.

I tucked myself back into my pants, zipped up, adjusted my belt.

Nala rose, smoothed her skirt down, tugged her blouse closed (leaving the top two buttons undone because why bother), and dropped back into her chair like nothing had happened. She crossed her legs, still flushed, still glowing.

I walked over to the control panel by the door, tapped the dashboard, and unfrosted the glass. The hallway beyond came into view—empty, thank fuck. I unlocked the door.

“Should we order takeout tonight?” I asked, hand still on the knob.

Nala, still panting lightly, gave me a lazy thumbs-up without looking up from her water bottle. She took a long swallow, throat working visibly, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“I’ll let Minne know then,” I said.

She nodded, wiped sweat from her forehead with her forearm, and exhaled hard. “Phew. Okay.”

I winked at her, stepped out, and closed the door behind me.

Back at my desk I dropped into the chair, leaned back, and stared at the ceiling for a second. No reward. Still sucked.

I pulled my phone out and called Minne.

She picked up on the second ring.

“Master?”

“Hey, honey. We’re ordering takeout tonight. You good with that?”

“Of course, Master,” she chirped. I could hear the smile in her voice. “What are we feeling? Pizza? Chinese? That new ramen place?”

“Whatever you and others want. I’m easy.”

“Okay! I’ll ask others when they get back. Mik’s being extra naughty today, by the way, Master.”

I laughed under my breath. “Yeah? What’d she do now?”

“She knocked the little succulent pot off the windowsill again. Soil everywhere. Then she ran across the kitchen counter while I was trying to make tea. Mrs. Tessa says she’s just ’expressing her inner hunter,’ but I think she’s just a meanine.”

“She’s a cat. Comes with the territory. How’s your mom doing?”

“She’s good! She called yesterday, she was actually happy.”

“Good, good.”

“Oh—and Mik says hi, Master. She’s currently sleeping on your pillow. Again.”

Well Minne sounded… energetic.

“Of course she is.” I rubbed my eyes. “Alright, love you. See you tonight.”

“Lo-love you, um, love you, too, Master. Be safe.”

We hung up.

I leaned back in the chair, chair creaking under me. Bored. Tired. My mind kept drifting back to Chase Bellings, then the guy who was supposedly Amelia’s father… and my reputation bar still sitting firmly in the red. Villain-coded. No matter how many people I fucked, no matter how many orgasms I gave, the system didn’t seem to care unless I did something “heroic.” Whatever the fuck that meant.

I rubbed my eyes harder, exhaled through my nose, and opened them.

Then I saw her.