Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 281: Against Gravity I *

Chapter 281: Against Gravity I *

Daphne expected that Atticus would fling her onto the bed to proceed with their bedroom activities, but to her surprise, Atticus carried her to the wall.

"Atticus? What are you doing?" Daphne asked in confusion, her hands instinctively clinging to his shoulders for stability. She knew that Atticus would never drop her on purpose, but this was a wall!

A vertical surface!

"What does it look like I’m doing?" Atticus retorted impishly, easily guiding her legs to his waist.

Daphne flushed as her legs wrapped around his hips. In this position, her legs were wide open. If she wasn’t wearing her dress, her womanhood would be completely exposed! It was obscene and lewd, and somehow the very thought made her grow wetter in her undies.

It was all Atticus’s fault, Daphne internally despaired. She was never such a harlot with such desires. He had corrupted her and now there was no going back.

"How much do you love this dress?" Atticus asked.

"I don’t love this dress― Atticus!" Daphne cried out.

The moment Atticus heard her, he immediately ripped away her skirts with one sharp pull, his ring glowing mischievously in the light. With her lower half exposed, Atticus’s large hands could easily slip underneath her panties to directly knead into the soft flesh of her butt, causing her to whimper and squirm in his arms.

She wanted his fingers in between her legs, but it seemed like Atticus was hellbent on avoiding it.

"You’re using your powers for this?" Daphne asked. She didn’t know whether to be impressed or appalled at this show of magical expertise, but from the way she grew increasingly wetter between her legs, clearly her body had made a decision for her.

Atticus’s show of dominance only made her want to part her legs wider for him, begging him to take her without mercy.

But Daphne wasn’t going to beg. Atticus was supposed to be the one pleasuring her!

"You haven’t seen anything yet," Atticus promised with a wicked grin on his face, his eyes bright with desire.

The sight of Daphne clad in a ruined dress — one that he ruined, nonetheless — made him think of nothing more than to pin her against the wall and ravish her until she was an incoherent wreck who couldn’t remember her own name. But he had plans; he was going to tease Daphne until she begged for him, and then he would finally deliver her salvation.

Then Atticus actually looked carefully at Daphne’s lower half, and his mind snapped.

Daphne had worn stockings underneath her dress. They were held up with garters. Those poor little straps were valiantly holding onto dear life as Daphne’s pillowy thighs tried to break free of their confines. The small slip of exposed skin of her thighs between her womanhood and the rest of her legs was driving him mad.

Her panties had delicate lace detailing on them, a lovely but unnecessary feature since they were hiding the true treasure.

He felt like an animal, half-feral with lust and longing, free of rational thought. So he caved into his desires and ripped it away. Daphne squealed as her most intimate part was exposed, her wetness leaking onto the sizable tent in Atticus’s pants.

"Perfect," Atticus growled out, his pupils dark with hunger.

Daphne shivered as she met his eyes and she subconsciously grinded against him, wanting to be touched.

"You’re not going to take the rest off?" Daphne asked bravely.

"There’s no need, I like fucking you when you’re half-clothed. It makes you look more debauched," Atticus said and smirked, and he pressed her flat against the wall with only one hand for support.

Daphne squeaked, half-afraid she would fall, but then Atticus managed to pull down her bustier with his other hand, revealing the tips of her nipples.

She looked down and flushed a deeper red; with the bustier still supporting her breasts, they looked obscenely large in their tight confines. She looked like she belonged on the streets, spreading her legs for her next meal.

"Such delicious tits, to think I get to see them for free." Atticus pretended to pray before pressing a wet, sloppy kiss to the top of each breast, purposely nipping at the tiny exposed nipple before moving away.

Daphne whined and squirmed in his hold, looking less like a queen and more like an angel that stumbled into a hotbed of sin, dragged into debauchery with no means of escape. With every touch of Atticus’s lips, she felt her body grow hotter with no means of controlling it.

Just the way Atticus liked it. He doubled his efforts on teasing her breasts with his mouth as his other hand dug into the soft skin of her thigh. He could feel her leaking on his trousers as she grinded mindlessly against him, but he wouldn’t be himself if he let his wife come so easily.

He quickly stopped, loving the agitated, desperate look in Daphne’s eyes.

Daphne cried out― every little move Atticus made was causing pleasure to build up within her. She wanted more, and she pulled him closer, wanting his face back in her chest.

"Atticus! You pervert! Don’t stop!"

"You are the pervert. I’m not the one going around tempting my husband," Atticus retorted. "Garters and stockings, sunshine? How naughty can you be? Do you want to be punished?"

Atticus purposely tugged at one of the poor garters with his powers, letting it snap loudly against her skin. Daphne gasped in surprise; it was supposed to be painful, but somehow, she felt more pleasure than pain.

"I wear them for fashion! No one else was supposed to see them!" Daphne protested, "You’re the one that can’t―"

Her retort was swallowed by a deep kiss from Atticus’s lips. His tongue expertly dove into her mouth to tangle with her own, causing Daphne to moan. Atticus’s kisses always made her head reel with pleasure. Finally, they had to part to catch their breath. Atticus chuckled when he caught sight of the dazed look in Daphne’s eyes.

"What were you saying? I couldn’t hear you above all the moaning."

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