Transmigrated As An SSS Ranked MILF Overlord
Chapter 57: ...I’ll Let You Have Your Way(1)(R18)

Chapter 57: ...I’ll Let You Have Your Way(1)(R18)

Stroke after stroke, her hand moved faster now—no longer tentative, but confident, hungry.

Her soft fingers wrapped firmly around his cock, gliding in a slick, steady rhythm that made his breath hitch with every pass.

Her palm worked him expertly, moving in quick up-and-down strides, cupping his shaft, while her other hand teased the tip of his cock—her motions fluid, practiced.

Behind him, he could feel the press of her breasts—soft, full, alive.

Even as they were pressed to his back, they seemed to ripple with every movement of her arms, every flick of her wrists.

The wet heat between her thighs was growing unbearable, a throbbing ache pulsing in time with her strokes.

It consumed her, flooded her thoughts, made her bite her lip as desire twisted deeper into her core.

She didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

Her hands kept moving, stroking him harder, faster. Her breath came faster now, warm against his neck, her skin flushed with need.

’God... I barely even know him.’ she thought, her mind a whirlwind.

’But I want him inside me already. I want to feel every inch. What the hell is happening to me?’ Her thoughts trembled between guilt and lust, but lust was winning.

’No... why don’t I want to stop? Fuck it. I shouldn’t even be thinking this.’

Dina’s grip tightened as her thoughts dissolved.

’I fucking love this.’

She groaned softly, almost surprised at herself, as her other hand moved with the first. Now both hands wrapped perfectly around his length, sliding up and down in a sensual blur.

Her strokes became more vigorous, more desperate.

He let out a guttural noise, his hips twitching as her grip worked him.

The warmth of her breasts pressed harder against his back, and she moaned softly as the aching heat between her legs throbbed with need.

Her cheeks flushed deeper, lips parted, eyes hazy. Still, she moved—both hands stroking his cock with intense, relentless pleasure, the rhythm growing wild, raw.

She was losing herself in it.

And she didn’t want to stop.

’Damn... fuck.’

His thoughts blurred with pleasure, hips twitching in response to her skilled touch.

’Her hands feel so damn good on my cock... better than Fiona ever did.’

His breath grew ragged, eyes half-lidded as he looked down at her.

’Shit. She’s so good at this—so good at stroking me. I wonder what she’d be like with her mouth on me... warm lips wrapped around my cock, tongue teasing the tip.’

The image hit him like a jolt, raw and electric.

’Yeah... I want that. I’m gonna put it in her mouth. No—fuck it—I’m gonna put it in her pussy!’

He was just about to move, hand tightening on her waist, when—

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

A soft but urgent knock echoed through the room.

The sound shattered the moment. They both froze.

Dina’s hands immediately slipped away from his cock, her breath catching in her throat.

She took a hasty step back, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. Steve fumbled for his trousers, tugging them up quickly as the tension between them snapped like a pulled wire.

Their eyes flicked to the door at the same time.

And then—

[Ding!]

[Concentration lost. Charm Master has been disabled.]

[Cooldown: 12 hours remaining.]

There was a brief silence... and following that-

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

The knock echoed again, sharper this time.

"Who is it?" Dina called out, trying to keep her voice composed despite the tension still lingering in the room.

A moment passed before a feminine voice answered, calm but firm.

"Open the door, Steve Jobson."

Steve’s eyes flicked to Dina . She met his gaze with a questioning look, but said nothing. With a sigh, he turned toward the door.

He quickly adjusted himself, making sure the outline of his cock in his trousers wasn’t too obvious. Then, grabbing the handle, he pulled the door open.

Standing in front of him were two women, both clad in gleaming royal armor that bore the insignia of the Crown.

They looked like they’d just come from battle—unshaken, poised, and with eyes sharp as daggers.

The taller of the two stepped forward.

"Steve Jobson, you’ve been summoned by the Queen Witcher."

Steve’s heart sank.

’The Queen Witcher? Fucking hell...’

His mind reeled.

’If I’d known I was going to meet her, I wouldn’t have burned Charm Master so soon. Now I’ve got a 12-hour cooldown. Un-fucking-believable.’

Outwardly, though, he showed none of his frustration. He simply nodded and stepped out into the corridor, shutting the door quietly behind him—Dina still inside.

***

Steve walked alongside the two Royal Guards as they made their way through the academy.

Their boots echoed through the stone halls, passing the student dorms and lecture wings until they entered the eastern corridor that led into the Royal Wing.

The atmosphere changed here. It was quieter. He could feel the weight of the walls, the sense of ancient power etched into every stone and tapestry.

Finally, they arrived at a tall double door, adorned with ornate carvings and frosted glass panels.

The glass shimmered softly, but the view inside was obscured—blurred, hazy. The kind of door that hinted at secrets.

Two more women, also in armor, stood beside it. One of them gave Steve a sharp nod and gestured to the door.

"She’s waiting for you." the guard said.

"The Mother."

Steve’s eyes flicked to her momentarily, then back to the door. He swallowed, throat dry, and stepped forward.

He paused at the threshold, hand on the handle. He took a slow breath, steadying himself. Then he pushed the door open.

Warm air greeted him.

He stepped inside.

The guards closed the door behind him with a soft click.

***

Mist curled in the air like smoke, swirling in soft, lazy tendrils.

It clung to his skin the moment he entered—thick, warm, and oddly fragrant.

The whole room was bathed in a humid haze, like a sauna or a hot spring. Steve blinked as he looked around, adjusting to the sudden change in temperature.

’What the hell...?’

He couldn’t see anyone at first. Just the fog... and silence.

’Where’s the Queen?’

He stepped forward, his boots clicking gently against the polished stone floor.

The warmth soaked into his clothes, and a thin sheen of sweat already clung to the back of his neck.

Then—through the mist—he saw it.

A large, circular pool dominated the center of the chamber. Steam rose from its surface in thick waves, the source of the heavy warmth and mist in the air.

The pool looked inviting... luxurious, even. Smooth marble edges, glowing faintly with enchantment runes.

Then, through the swirling mist, movement.

A figure—no, a head—slowly emerged, cutting through the haze. Wet strands of dark hair clung to her cheeks, both frontal and ass cheeks, as she rose from the pool, ascending the stone steps with quiet grace.

Droplets traced every curve of her body, highlighting the way her full, heavy breasts swayed with each step.

Her nipples were a flushed, provocative pink, taut and aching in the heat.

They bounced—soft, rhythmic, hypnotic—occasionally brushing against each other, the motion tantalizingly raw.

His gaze slipped lower.

Her waist curved into wide hips, her skin smooth, warm, impossibly soft in appearance.

Even from the front, the round swell of her ass was visible—thick, firm, yet plush—taunting him with its perfect shape, the slow sway of each cheek leaving little to the imagination.

Water clung to every inch of her, running in streams between her thighs, down the gentle dip of her stomach, over the full weight of her breasts.

Steve’s breath caught.

And then—her face came into view.

Familiar.Beautiful...it was the Queen Witcher.

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