God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem

While Bella was standing outside, her mind a whirlwind of emotions, inside the room, Kafka was coming to terms with his new environment.

His eyes darted around Camila's bedroom, taking in the familiar yet suddenly alien surroundings. The soft lighting, the gentle scent of lavender from her candles, everything seemed to amplify the intimacy and strangeness of the moment.

He was about to speak, perhaps to ask what this was all about and why she left Bella back there and brought him here, that was until the sound of the lock clicking into place snapped his attention back to the door. His head whipped around just in time to see Camila turn the key, sealing them off from the rest of the world.

As she turned to face him, her movements were deliberate, almost choreographed. Her gaze was unlike anything he had seen from her before; it was predatory, intense, and filled with an unspoken promise. Her eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, time seemed to slow as he felt the weight of her stare.

"C-Camila, what's going on? Why did you drag me all the way here?" Kafka asked, feigning ignorance as he tried to navigate the sudden shift in atmosphere. He gestured towards the door, his voice carrying a note of urgency. "We should really go back to dinner or else the food will get cold...We don't want to be eating ice cold pasta, would we?"

But Camila didn't seem to care about the pasta and her smile was anything but innocent, her eyes dancing with mischief.

"Dinner can wait, Kakfa." She murmured, her tone playful yet charged with intent. She then looked him over, her gaze lingering provocatively on his crotch as she continued saying, "It can wait as there's something else I'd much rather indulge in."

Before Kafka could fully process her words, Camila moved with surprising agility. She stepped forward, her hands firm on his shoulders, pushing him backward. He stumbled, the backs of his knees catching on the bed, and he sat down abruptly at the edge.

Sit~

Confusion painted his features as Camila leaned in, her presence overwhelming. She tilted his chin up with her fingers, her touch both gentle and commanding.

Then, without any further preamble, she kissed him.

"Kiss!♡~"

It wasn't just a kiss; it was a statement, deep and passionate, her lips claiming his in a way that spoke of long-held desires finally unleashed.

"Smooch!♡~ Smooch!♡~ Kiss!♡~ Smooch!♡~ Sip!♡~"

Camila's kiss was an assault on Kafka's senses, immediate and relentless. Her lips crashed against his, not giving him a chance to catch his breath, to think.

"Mwah!♡~ Mwah!♡~ Pucker!♡~ Mwah!♡~ Suck!♡~"

She was the aggressor, her tongue pushing past his defenses, seeking, claiming, with an intensity that left no room for misunderstanding. It was raw, direct, and full of unspoken longing.

"Peck!♡~ Peck!♡~ Kiss!♡~ Peck!♡~ Taste!♡~"

Her mouth worked against his with a hunger that was almost visible, her tongue not just touching but intertwining with his, sucking with an intensity that sent shivers down Kafka's spine.

Each movement was deliberate, passionate, as if she were trying to convey years of suppressed desire in that single, intense moment.

"Mmm!♡~ Mmm!♡~ Smack!♡~ Mmm!♡~ Lick!♡~"

Kafka was undeniably aroused by the intensity of the moment, his body responding with a natural fervor to Camila's dominant kiss.

Yet, amidst the physical response, there was a battle within him; he fought the urge to return the kiss, to give in to the passion that was being thrust upon him.

His concern for Camila, however, was more potent than his arousal. She had always shown a dominant streak, but this was different, unprecedented in its intensity, and it worried him.

Grasping her hips, Kafka managed to pull her away slightly, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. "...Camila, are you alright?" He asked, his voice laced with genuine concern, trying to catch her eye, to read her through the storm of desire. "Why are you suddenly so aggressive—"

But Camila was not deterred.

Ignoring his question, she continued her assault, her lips finding the sensitive skin of his neck, kissing with a fervor that was both possessive and consuming.

"Kiss!♡~ Kiss!♡~ Mwah!♡~ Kiss!♡~ Sip!♡~"

Her hands, deft and determined, began unbuttoning his shirt, each button undone revealing more of him to her voracious affection.

With his shirt now fully unbuttoned, revealing the expanse of his skin to the cool air and her warm breath, Camila's path of kisses was nothing short of an art form.

"Smooch!♡~ Smooch!♡~ Kiss!♡~ Smooch!♡~ Sip!♡~"

Starting at his collarbone, she pressed her lips against him with a fervor that seemed to sear his skin. Each kiss was a branding, a claim, her lips lingering just long enough to feel the pulse of his heart through his flesh before moving on.

"Mwah!♡~ Mwah!♡~ Pucker!♡~ Mwah!♡~ Suck!♡~"

She traced the line of his collarbone with her mouth, her kisses alternating between soft, feather-like touches and harder, more possessive presses that made his breath hitch.

Her lips were warm, almost feverish, as they explored the hollow at the base of his throat, where she paused, her tongue darting out to taste the salt of his skin, a silent acknowledgment of possession.

"Peck!♡~ Peck!♡~ Kiss!♡~ Peck!♡~ Taste!♡~"

Moving downward, her kisses became a cascade over his chest.

She kissed the firm muscles there, her lips molding to the contours of his pecs, nibbling gently at times, then sucking at others, leaving behind a trail of red marks that would linger as a testament to this moment.

Her breath was hot against his skin, each exhale sending shivers through him, making his skin prickle with goosebumps despite the warmth of her touch.

"Mmm!♡~ Mmm!♡~ Smack!♡~ Mmm!♡~ Lick!♡~"

As she moved further down, over the plains of his abdomen, her kisses became more deliberate, tracing the lines of his abs with a reverence that was almost worshipful.

"Kiss!♡~ Kiss!♡~ Mwah!♡~ Kiss!♡~ Sip!♡~"

Each muscle was greeted with a kiss, her lips lingering over the dips and rises, her tongue occasionally tracing the outline, making Kafka's stomach muscles tense under the onslaught of sensation.

Kafka, caught in the tempest of her affection, felt every kiss like an electric shock, his body reacting with a fervor that matched hers, yet his mind was a whirlpool of concern and arousal, trying to decipher the intensity behind her actions while succumbing to the undeniable pleasure they brought.

His senses swam in a haze of conflicting desire and concern as Camila's kisses continued their relentless journey along his skin.

His body began to yield to her touch, each kiss and caress sending ripples of pleasure that made him want to surrender completely. For a few blissful moments, he let himself drift in the intensity of her affection, almost forgetting the undercurrent of worry that tugged at his heart.

Then, amid the cascade of sensations, he became aware of a new, unmistakable shift.

His eyes widened as he saw Camila's hand slide lower, her intent unmistakable as she inched toward his waistband. The soft rustle of fabric and the subtle sound of her movements snapped him back to reality.

In that instant, Kafka realized that the situation was spiraling beyond his comfort zone. He didn't want her to continue—especially not when he suspected she might be grappling with her own inner turmoil.

So, before she could unbutton his pants, Kafka's hand darted forward and gently but firmly grasped both of Camila's cheeks, holding her while tilting her head up so that their eyes locked.

The sudden contact halted her, and the playful lust in her eyes was replaced by a flicker of surprise as she paused, still crouched near him.

"Camila." He murmured, his voice low and earnest. "What's wrong? Why are you acting like this all of a sudden? You know you can talk to me if you're going through something...if something's bothering you." His gaze searched hers, pleading for an explanation amid the tangled emotions.

But Camila didn't seem to hear the solemness in his tone as she chuckled softly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, her eyes glimmering with mischief.

"Oh, Kafka..." She said, her voice playful, almost teasing. "You always take everything so seriously."

She leaned in slightly, her lips curving into a knowing smile.

"It's not anything that you're thinking at the moment...I just want a taste of you." Her tone was flippant, lighthearted, as if she were stating the obvious. "A taste of that meaty member you have hanging down there...It's been a while, hasn't it?"

After saying her excuse, Camila expected him to roll his eyes, to smirk at her teasing and let her continue what she was doing.

For a moment, she even felt him relax, his grip on her cheeks loosening, as if he was finally letting go of whatever had been bothering him.

But then—

He sighed.

And before she could even process what was happening, Kafka started to get up.

Camila's heart lurched.

A flicker of panic shot through her chest as she instinctively reached forward, her arms wrapping around his waist in a desperate attempt to stop him from leaving.

"Wait—" Her voice came out hurried, flustered, her fingers gripping onto him tightly.

"W-Where are you going?" She asked quickly, her heart hammering in her chest. "Are you thirsty? Do you need anything? I can bring you water, or—your dinner that you want so much? Just stay here, I'll get it for you."

Kafka paused, his expression unreadable as he glanced down at her.

His gaze, usually so playful, so full of warmth, now carried a trace of something quieter, something gentler—something distant.

He exhaled softly, his fingers grazing the back of her hand as if to soothe her. Continue reading at My Virtual Library Empire

"I don't need anything, Camila." He said, his voice light, but undeniably firm. "I just—"

He hesitated.

"I just want to leave the room."

Camila stiffened...For some reason those words stung.

"Why?" She asked, her voice almost a whisper now, though she wasn't sure she wanted the answer. "D-Did I do anything wrong? Did I say anything that displeased you?"

Kafka looked at her then, really looked at her, as if searching for the right words.

And then, he smiled.

That soft, affectionate smile of his, the one that always made her feel like she was the most precious thing in the world.

"It's not like that." He reassured her, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek gently.

"There's nothing you could ever do to bother me." He murmured, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin, his voice low, sincere.

"You're too wonderful for that, Camila."

She blushed, the heat creeping up her neck before she could stop it. But before she could even process the warmth his words brought her, he spoke again.

"It's just that…"

His eyes softened, a trace of concern settling in them now.

"You have a certain sadness in your eyes right now."

His voice grew quieter, more careful.

"And I can't ignore that."

Camila froze.

Sadness?...She hadn't even realized it herself.

But Kafka had...He always did.

"And because of that." He continued, his gaze steady. "I can't just sit here and let the woman I love indulge me when she's clearly going through something."

He shifted slightly, as if he were about to get up again—

But this time, Camila understood.

And before he could move, she held onto him even tighter.

"It's not sadness, Kakfa! It's not sadness at all, like you think!" She blurted out, surprising even herself.

Kafka paused, his brows furrowing slightly.

Camila took a deep breath, steadying herself, choosing her words carefully.

"It's not sadness I'm feeling right now, Kafka." She repeated in a whisper.

She looked up at him, searching for something in his gaze—for understanding, for acceptance.

"It's pity...Not sadness but pity and remorse for what I've done."

Kafka's expression shifted. He settled back down, his full attention now on her, his usual teasing demeanor completely gone, ready to hear what Camila was about to say.