CHAPTER 439: I’M STILL LEAKING YOUR KIDS!

Chapter 439 – I’m Still Leaking Your Kids!

Her walls clenched tight, so hot, so wet it was unreal. Her body was sucking him in like it was made for this, for him, for every filthy, hard thrust he poured into her like a man starved.

And he was starved.

Not just for her body.

But for this.

For the way she lost control under him.

For the way her pride melted into heat and submission when he broke past her composure.

For the way her fingers trembled when he rammed so deep she forgot her own name.

[Warning: Release Threshold Approaching]

[Overload Imminent]

He didn’t care.

He wasn’t stopping.

The bed creaked. The sheets were soaked. His skin stuck to hers, their sweat mixing, their scents fusing into something infernal and holy.

His cock throbbed.

Her moans got louder, higher, ragged. Her walls fluttered around him like she was on the edge.

"Cum for me," he growled, teeth grazing her neck. "Now."

And like a spell broken, she did.

Her whole body locked up—legs squeezing tight, fingers clawing at his arms, her eyes rolling back as she came around him with a cry that made the windows shake.

He groaned. Loud. Deep.

And then followed her over the edge.

He came hard—spilling deep inside her, each pulse like a heartbeat between them. Her womb clenched around him, milking every drop, greedier than even his titles could claim.

[Endorphin Surge Engaged. Pride-Tier Satisfaction Achieved]

He collapsed forward, careful not to crush her, panting against her neck as she trembled beneath him—her body twitching with aftershocks, her arms curling around his back, pulling him close.

They lay like that.

A tangled, sweaty, throbbing mess.

Eventually, he whispered into her hair.

"Payment received. Keep the change."

Sira giggled against his chest, body still flushed and sticky from the mess they’d made. Her nails lazily dragged across his skin, just light enough to tickle but smug enough to tease. Her smile curved against his collarbone, all satisfaction and sin.

"Keep the change?" she echoed. "Excuse me, I gave you premium service."

Lux let out a low groan, arm draped over his eyes. "You also left hickeys on my thighs. I’m sending you the cleaning bill."

She laughed harder. "No refunds. And no complaining. You loved it."

He didn’t argue.

Because yeah, he did.

But then she shifted again, wrapping her arms around him, leg hooking over his hip. Her breasts pressed into his side, warm and soft, and her voice dropped into that dangerous, spoiled register that only spelled trouble.

"I need more, Lux."

There it was.

He lifted his arm off his face just enough to peek down at her.

"No."

Sira blinked. "What do you mean no?"

"I mean I have to go."

"Upper realm?" she pouted, trailing a finger down his chest. "I’ll follow."

"Yes," he said again, more firmly this time. He kissed her forehead, then pushed himself up, groaning. "But you can’t follow me."

Sira sat up instantly, sheets slipping off her like a silken waterfall. "Now?! You can do it later!"

Lux was already on his feet, stretching his back with a wince. "Now."

Her eyes flicked down to his still half-hard cock, glistening from their last round. "You’re seriously gonna leave me like this? After two rounds?"

He muttered, "You say that like two rounds isn’t a full buffet."

She crossed her arms under her chest, her expression pure offended royal demoness. "Lux. Two. That’s an appetizer. That’s a meeting. That’s a preview."

He groaned again, grabbing his pants off the floor and shimmying into them with the defeated sigh of a man who knew he’d be hearing about this for weeks.

"You can’t just shove it in me, wreck my legs, and then say ’see ya’ like I’m room service."

"I can and I am," Lux said, buttoning his shirt. He reached for his crisp black tie.

"You are," Sira muttered.

He ignored her, sliding the tie into place with practiced ease. Then came the jacket. Sleek. Tailored. Midnight black with gold lining. A devil’s executive armor.

She watched him dress like it was a tragedy.

"This isn’t fair," she whined, falling back dramatically onto the pillows. "I’m still leaking your kids!"

"Then seal it with a prayer," he said flatly.

She threw a pillow at him.

He caught it midair.

"You’re such a bastard," she huffed.

"You knew what this was when you were toying with my lil devil," he said, grabbing his cufflinks.

She hissed through her teeth. "Low blow."

He smirked. "Effective though."

He looked... too composed now. Too neat. Not a trace of what they just did lingered on his skin. His hair fell into perfect shape with a quick pass of his fingers, and the moment he straightened his jacket, he was Lux Vaelthorn again. Prince of Greed. Demon of Contracts. And unfortunately, the only incubus in Hell who had a therapy appointment on file with a celestial war counselor.

Sira propped herself on her elbows, watching as he opened a rift with a flick of his fingers. A subtle hum filled the room, and gold lines glowed in the air, forming the doorway to the upper elevator.

Before stepping through, Lux paused at the dresser, retrieved a sleek gold-embossed voucher from his inventory, and tucked it into his coat pocket.

"What’s that?" Sira asked, still naked and grumbling.

"Therapy voucher. I’m a demon prince with family issues, a suspicious god complex, a literal target on my back, and a harem of overachieving women trying to break me like a limited-time dungeon boss. I’m absolutely traumatized."

She snorted. "Then take your d*ck trauma with you."

He winked. "Already did."

And with that, he walked toward the glowing frame of the elevator.

Sira sat up again, one hand on her hip. "You’ll be back before dinner, right?"

"I’ll try."

"Because if you’re not," she warned, "I’ll clone you and ride the clone."

Lux raised a brow. "Illegal."

"I’m from Pride. We don’t care."

He smirked.

"Be good," he said.

And then he stepped through.