Corporate Villainy: Trampling Protagonists as a Business Dad

Helena leaned over, mouth already open, and kissed the tip of Vincent's cock. A pearl of precum welled from the slit. She licked it off, shivering at the taste, then opened wider and took the head between her lips.

It was impossible, the way she wanted him. She wanted him in her mouth, in her cunt, everywhere all at once. She sucked, tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing. Her eyes met his: hungry. Vincent's hands found her hair, twisting it in his fingers, guiding her down. He groaned, hips twitching as she took him deeper.

"Fuck, Helena," he gasped. "You feel so good."

She hummed, letting the vibration pass through him. Her hand wrapped around the thick shaft, thumb teasing the ridge just below the head. She bobbed, spit pooling at the corners of her lips, then pulled off with a gasp for breath. His cock glistened. She licked

her lips, greedy for every drop. His taste was sharp, a little salty, a little sweet, and Helena wanted more. She kissed down the length of him, tongue tracing the thick vein, soaking up his heat. At the base, she found his balls, heavy and full, and cupped them in her palm. They twitched, alive with every brush of her fingers.

She rolled one into her mouth, careful at first, then braver as Vincent moaned below her. She swirled her tongue, sucked gently. His thighs tensed, and he swore, voice ragged and raw. Helena went back to his cock, working him with both hands, stroking and twisting, then licking the slit again. She wanted to see him lose control. She wanted to drink it. She wanted to make him remember her.

"God," Vincent groaned, "you're going to make me—"

She closed her lips around him, bobbing hard and fast. Vincent

came so hard he saw white, his hands flying to her head. Helena let him, let him hold her down as he emptied into her mouth. Hot, thick, relentless. She gagged but didn't let up, tongue milking the last drops from him. Even after he pulled out, a string of white connecting her lips to the swollen head, Helena kept licking, cleaning him off until he was twitching from the sensitivity.

She looked up, eyes shining, and swallowed, slow and deliberate. Vincent watched her throat work, his own body shivering in the aftershock. Helena wiped her mouth with her thumb and sucked it, like she'd found candy she didn't want to waste.

He caught her by the chin and pulled her up, kissing her lips, tasting himself on her tongue. Helena blushed but didn't shrink away. She straddled him on the bed, hands pressed to his chest, and Vincent felt her heat through both their skin.

He was still hard, angry and ready all over again, so stiff it ached against her thigh. Helena noticed. Her eyes widened, not innocent but amazed. She slid down, her hair leaving a static trail on his chest, and curled next to him. Her hands roamed everywhere, not greedy but experimental—testing the flex of his biceps, tracing the edge of his jaw, then returning to his cock. She stroked it, slow, like someone savoring a new favorite food.

"You're still…?" she whispered, voice half-laugh, half-wonder.

"For you," he said, and meant it.

She nuzzled into his neck. Her hair, soft and wild, tickled his cheek. Helena seemed to like the intimacy, the heavy warmth of their bodies pressed together. She kissed him, mouth open, tongue shy at first but quickly matching his own. When he sucked her lower lip, she whimpered, a sound so honest it almost hurt.

Helena slid her leg over his hips, fitting her cleft over his length, letting it rest against her. She held his cock with both hands, little palms barely enough to close around him, and angled it to rut along her slick folds. She looked at his face—waiting, maybe, for permission or instruction.

He cupped her jaw, pulled her into a kiss, pressed her against him. "You can do whatever you want," he murmured.

Helena shivered, the friction making her gasp. She was flush everywhere, skin damp, inner thighs glistening. She moved again, less tentative now, and the head of him slipped just barely inside. She buried her face in his neck, holding still.

"I don't—" she began, but he kissed her again, silencing the words.

"Let me help," he said. He gripped her hip and guided her down. The stretch was slow, so gradual he could feel her body yielding by inches, muscles contracting around him, and the little tremor in her thighs as she sank down. Her breath caught, sharp and immediate. She went rigid, a thin whimper escaping into the hollow of his throat.

"It's okay," he said. "Use me."

She nodded, eyes squeezed shut, exhaling in a shaky rush. She rose up, then lowered herself again, inch by inch, learning how to take him. Her cunt clasped him greedily, but the fit was so snug she seemed hardly able to move. Vincent rocked his hips, giving just enough resistance, and felt her body remember, adjust, wetness slicking them both.

She found a rhythm, shallow at first, desperate not to lose control. He watched her—lashes wet with tears, mouth trembling, hair clinging darkly to her brow. He slid a hand between them, thumb stroking over the tight bud where she was split around him.

Helena jerked, a startled cry. Her muscles clamped down so hard it almost hurt, and Vincent grinned. She tried to curse but the words dissolved into panting. He kept circling, patient, feeling her legs start to shake again as she rode out the sensation. The air was hot and thick with the scent of her, of them.

He let her use him, let her grind and rut at her own pace, but his hands cupped her ass, guiding. "That's it," he said. "Just like that."

She was trembling all over now, sweat beading on her back. The first crest built, lifted her high, and she broke apart in his arms—a rigid, silent scream, head thrown back, fingers digging into his shoulders. It didn't slow her. She kept moving, frantic, greedy for it, grinding herself raw on his cock.

Vincent felt himself thicken, then withdraw almost to the tip, then slam back up. She gasped, and he did it again, again, and her body went liquid, limp, before jerking again as he bottomed out. She clawed at his chest, desperate, pupils blown wide and black.

"God—Vincent, I—" She couldn't finish. He didn't stop. He was relentless, pistoning up into her so hard she bounced, breasts quivering against his face. He caught one in his mouth, biting, and she shrieked. He braced her with both arms and fucked her like a machine—fast, merciless, pounding. Her hair stuck to her cheeks, her throat shining with sweat.

He buried his face in her neck. "Gonna cum," he grunted.

"Yes—yes—" She wrapped him tight with her thighs, hands yanking his hair, holding on as he jackhammered her. "Do it, inside—"

He did. The orgasm ripped through him, white-hot, his back arched, her name wrung out between his teeth. He jerked her up, crushed her mouth under his, and came. He pulsed deep, flooding her. She sobbed against his teeth, clawing his shoulders, wringing him for every spasm.

He kissed her hard, biting her lip, licking her tongue. She kissed back, messy and desperate, moaning into him as his hips bucked in aftershocks. Wetness dripped down her thighs, slicking his balls, the sheets ruined beneath them.

He loosened his hold, let her collapse over him, both of them heaving. She shuddered once more, full-body, her cunt still milking him. He stroked up her damp spine, kissed her hair.

She was laughing, almost crying, face buried in his neck. "Vincent, that was so good."

He pulled her up by the chin, kissed her again, slower this time. She melted into it, boneless, arms soft around his shoulders.

They stayed tangled, breathing each other in, his shaft still pulsating inside her pussy.

Her cheek pressed to his collarbone, she let her eyes close. His hands drifted down, palming the curve of her ass, up again to cradle her head. He was hardening again inside her, slower this time. She squeezed him with her legs, sighed. "So much for sleeping," she mumbled.

He kissed her brow. "I don't hear you complaining."

She smiled, lazy and sweet. "Maybe just a little. My whole body feels like a noodle." Her palm, sticky with sweat and what they'd made, patted his chest. "You're a menace, Vincent."

He nosed her hair aside. "I thought I was a gentleman."

"Mmm," she said, rocking on top of him slow, riding the aftershocks. "A gentleman wouldn't do me so hard."

He rolled them, pinned her under his weight. Nose to nose, they giggled together. Her limbs splayed, content, urgent need replaced by a warm, pink haze. His hand on her ribcage, soft and unhurried, thumb tracing the swell below her breast. "I said a gentleman, not a good man," he murmured, kissing her eyelid. "You can stop pretending you want one."

She laughed, low and throaty. "You sure? I could still get out of here."

"No one's stopping you," he said, and when she tried to move, he pinned her wrists above her head. Their laughter, caught between their mouths, grew frantic and wild. The heat built back, slow at first, then pounding. He marked her throat, sucked hard, thumbed the edge of her jaw. She let herself be handled, delighted in being fought over, the way he could hold her and still be out of control.

They took each other rough, then gentle, then rough again, each time finding the urgency to keep going. The moon had crept high outside, but neither noticed it until Helena passed out from pleasure and exhaustion.

🔔 System Notification

▶ Helena Favorability towards Vincent: 93(+3)

▶VP: +150