Primal Power Plays
Jump to Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 🔥
Chapter 1: Penthouse Shadows
The elevator hummed softly as it shot up to the penthouse, the Vegas strip glittering like a fever dream below. I, Sophia Reyes, clutched my tablet tighter, heart pounding not just from the ascent but from the secrets I’d already glimpsed in this glittering empire. Victor Kane, the cutthroat CEO of Nexus Tech, had plucked me from obscurity six months ago. No more shaking my ass in dimly lit lounges for tips from tech bros—I was his shadow now, his tool for sealing deals that lesser women couldn’t touch.
The doors slid open to a suite drenched in amber light, the air thick with cigar smoke and the faint tang of expensive cologne. Voices filtered from the master suite—low, urgent. I crept closer, heels silent on the marble, drawn by that primal pull, the one that made my thighs clench even before I saw it.
There was Li Wei, the sleek exec from Shanghai, on her knees before Victor’s sprawl on the leather chaise. Her dowdy pantsuit hung open, lips stretched wide around his thick shaft, slurping desperately as she begged between gulps. “Mr. Kane… please… no barriers on the ports…” Victor’s hand fisted her black hair, guiding her rhythm, his growl rumbling like thunder. I pressed against the wall, breath shallow, my core flooding with heat. God, the way she hollowed her cheeks, the wet smack echoing—my fingers itched to dive under my skirt right there.
“Send in Nadia,” Victor barked into his phone, shoving Li off with a casual thrust that left her gasping, strings of saliva bridging her lips to his glistening length. I ducked into the shadows as Nadia swept in—tall, raven-haired stunner in her late twenties, curves poured into a crimson sheath. Older than my twenty-four years, but with eyes that promised sin.
Li stammered about supply chains, but Victor’s attention was on Nadia. He beckoned her near, and as the report droned, his fingers trailed up her silken thigh, vanishing under the hem. She stood statue-still, lashes fluttering, a soft whimper escaping when he cupped her mound, rubbing slow circles. The scent of her arousal bloomed, musky and sharp, mingling with the suite’s leather polish. I bit my lip, watching her hips twitch ever so slightly, primal need cracking her composure.
“Dismissed,” Victor grunted, and Li fled. Nadia sank gracefully between his knees, her mouth engulfing him with a practiced ease that made my knees weak. As I slipped away, panties soaked, I knew my day was just igniting.
Chapter 2: From Neon Lights to Corner Offices
Flashback tugged at me on the ride down—how I’d landed this gig. Six months back, at the Velvet Rope club, I’d worked the poles for Nexus insiders, learning whispers of mergers while grinding on laps. Senators? Nah, these were venture capitalists, spilling boardroom plots mid-thrust. Victor had spotted me one night, fending off a handsy rival exec. I dropped low, lips brushing his ear: “Let me handle the pests, sir.” By dawn, I was his.
Now, full-time, clearance meant private jets, C-suites, no more public dances. But the thrill? Amplified. Ruby—no, Marcus was my handler, Victor’s right-hand shark. Today, he’d tasked me with two marks, handing me dossiers in the lobby. “Limo’s waiting, Soph. Marco’s your wheelman. Persuade Harlan on the merger vote, then Tara on the IP clauses. No failures.”
Outside, the desert heat slapped me, Marco holding the door—built like a linebacker, mid-forties, salt-and-pepper buzzcut framing a jaw that could cut glass. “Morning, Miss Reyes. All set?” His voice gravel, eyes respectful but hungry. I slid in, leather cradling me like a lover. “Sophia, when it’s us. And yeah, Marco—first stop, Harlan’s tower.”
The limo purred through traffic, my mind replaying Nadia’s descent, Victor’s primal dominance. Idleness gnawed; I glanced at Marco’s broad shoulders, parted my thighs stealthily. Fingers slipped under lace, tracing my slick folds. The buzz of the engine vibrated up, clit throbbing under my touch. So close—juices coating my digits, scent rising sharp and needy—when my phone buzzed. Marcus. I yanked my hand free, inhaling my own tang with a secret thrill. “Done with Harlan. Heading to Tara. Got it.”
Whispers of the Grind
Harlan’s office loomed in the glass monolith, receptionist waving me past. I memorized doors—future leverage. Knocked on his. “Enter!” Rasped a voice like aged whiskey.
Harlan Voss, sixty-something, silver mane wild, paunch straining his shirt—familiar from club nights. He rose, erection tenting already. “Sophia! Haven’t seen you grinding those poles. Office suits you.” I perched on the velvet couch, skirt hiking. “Merger vote, Harlan. Victor needs your sway.”
As we debated clauses, his palm warmed my knee, creeping higher. I widened stance, garters snapping taut, thong peeking pink. He toyed with straps, groaning. “Counterproposal here…” I unzipped him, his girthy eight-incher springing free—no boxers, veins pulsing. Dropped low, saliva pooling as I engulfed him, tongue swirling the flared head. He hit my throat, balls slapping chin with each bob. His fingers tangled in my chestnut waves, primal grunts building. “Fuck… take it!” Hot ropes blasted down, thick and endless. I milked every drop, tongue lapping remnants, swallowing with a satisfied hum.
Kissed his cheek, dossier tucked away. “We’ll sway you yet.” Out in the hall, thighs slick, I ached—his load heavy in my belly, but my heat untouched. Primal frustration clawed me; needed filling, deep and raw.
Chapter 3: Siren’s Call in Steel and Glass 💋
Marco idled curbside, eyes flicking up my skirt as I bent for the forgotten file—dark patch blooming on my thong. He adjusted himself, bulge obvious. I giggled, sliding in. “Tara’s next, big guy. And it’s Sophia.”
Her office buzzed modern—chrome, ferns, ocean views. Tara Voss—no relation—sauntered in, thirtyish Latina firecracker, caramel skin glowing, raven locks cascading, full DDs straining silk. “Sophia Reyes. Missed that fire.” Handshake lingered, electric.
“Call me Tara, amor. Politics bore me—IP tweaks? Let’s negotiate.” She perched on desk edge, pencil skirt splitting to bare lace. I mirrored, thighs parting. Air hummed with her jasmine perfume laced with desire. “Intelligent as ever. Ditch Victor; my team’s hungrier. Perks included.” Her legs splayed, crotch bare under garterless stockings.
I knelt, nose burying in her heat—salty-sweet musk flooding me. Peeled lace aside, tongue spearing her bald slit, clit hardening under assault. “Dios, yes… deeper!” She gripped my head, hips bucking wild. Her walls clenched, then—gush! She squirted fierce, drenching my face, hair, blouse in tangy squall. Gasping for air, I shoved back, euphoric.
Tara hauled me up, stripping me savage. On plush rug, she devoured my dripping core, fingers plunging knuckles-deep, curling primal on my G-spot. I shattered twice, screams echoing, before we tangled in sixty-nine frenzy, tastes blending—her cream on my tongue, mine on hers. Climaxes ripped us, bodies quaking in aftershocks.
Tight Threads and Lingering Aches
Her bathroom revived me—borrowed gear too snug: cropped halter baring midriff, microskirt barely veiling ass. No panties; every step flashed pussy lips, juices trickling. We kissed molten goodbye, her hand cupping my mound possessively.
Hallway tug-of-war with hem, Marco’s eyes devoured as I neared limo. Door ajar, I dove in—skirt rucked to waist, naked heat exposed, leaking steady. Breath ragged, I locked his gaze in mirror. “Marco. Park somewhere secluded. I need cock. Your primal cock, buried in me. Now.”
Chapter 4: Limo Inferno
Marco’s eyes darkened, a feral gleam cutting the rearview. He gunned the engine, weaving into industrial alleys where the city pulse faded to gritty hush. Tires crunched gravel pulling into shadowed overhang, engine dying to silence broken only by our heaving breaths. The air trapped my spent pussy’s tang, Tara’s squirt dried sticky on skin.
He twisted, massive frame filling doorframe as back swung wide. “Sophia… you sure?” Voice thick, restraint fraying. I yanked him in by collar, straddling his lap—rough jeans grinding my bare slit. “Fuck sure. Been wet since Victor’s suite. Feel this?” Ground down, coating his bulge in my slick.
Zippers rasped urgent; his cock erupted—nine inches thick, uncut, foreskin peeling back to purple head weeping pre. No prelims. I speared down, walls stretching obscene around girth, a burn-pleasure yelp escaping. “God, so full… fuck me primal, Marco!” He gripped hips bruising, slamming up as I rode savage, tits bouncing free from halter.
Car rocked violent, windows fogging to moans—wet slaps, his grunts animal, my cries shattering glass edge. Sweat sheened us, his mouth latched nipple, teeth grazing sharp. Primal rhythm built, balls slapping ass, clit grinding his base. “Gonna flood you,” he snarled. I clenched, milking—orgasm exploded, vision whiting as he erupted, hot jets painting cervix deep.
We slumped, trembling, his arms iron around me. Heartbeats synced slow, tenderness creeping in his kiss to my temple. “Never dreamed…” Guilt flickered—loyalty to Victor?—but primal bond sealed, raw connection humming.
Afterglow Whispers
Cleaned with spit and napkins, skirt readjusted futilely. Back to Nexus tower, my walk cocky, loads mingled leaking. Marcus met in lobby, oblivious. “Deals locked?” Nodded, smirking. Inside, victory buzzed—but Marco’s taste lingered, promising more forbidden hunts.
Chapter 5: Boardroom Reckoning
Evening summit loomed—Victor hosting power players in the sky lounge. Dressed afresh in slinky black number, cleavage plunging, I glided in. Air hummed ozone from storm brewing outside, thunder rumbling primal warning. Victor eyed me sharp. “Results?” Passed dossiers; his nod approval, hand grazing ass possessive.
Harlan arrived boozy, Tara flushed radiant—our eyes locked, promise sparking. Li Wei hovered, Nadia poured drinks. Tension coiled as talks heated: mergers, tariffs morphed to patents. Harlan slapped table: “Victor’s terms suck!” I “accidentally” spilled wine on him, dabbing low—fingers brushing cock stirring anew. “Let me fix…” Whispered retreat to alcove.
Pushed him against paneling, mouth claiming his length anew—salty with sweat, balls heavy. Gulped deep, throat fucking self as he moaned boardroom-fogged. Tara sidled near, hand under my dress, fingers invading. “Share, puta.” Triad frenzy: my lips on Harlan, her digits plunging me, his hands mauling tits. Climaxes chained—his seed down throat, my squirt soaking her palm, her gasps muffled in my neck.
Returned casual, deals tipping Victor’s way. Primal chaos, masked as accident—power shifted on cum-slick heels.
Storm’s Embrace
Rain lashed windows as Victor dismissed all but me. “You, kitten. On your knees.” His office reeked victory—cigar, sex residue. Knelt, worshipping his veined monster, primal submission washing me. He face-fucked ruthless, tears streaking as balls emptied volcanic. Swallowed, rising to kiss—taste shared intimate.
Night ended in his bed, bodies entwined, thunder fading. But Marco texted: Quiet spot tomorrow? Temptation coiled fresh.
Chapter 6: Eternal Hunger
Weeks blurred—seductions stacking: a rooftop tryst with a rival heir, fists of pleasure stretching limits; alleyway quickie where Marco claimed ass primal, grease-slicked and howling. Tara became ally-lover, strap-ons rending us in hotel suites, squirts painting walls.
Victor suspected nothing, empire swelling on my leaks—morals frayed, but power’s drug addictive. One dawn, post-fuck glow with Marco in dawn-lit limo, I confessed urges. “This primal fire… it consumes.” He cupped face. “Feeds us too.”
Relationship shifted—network of flesh-bound loyalties. Harlan voted lock; Tara funneled intel. Victor crowned me executive shadow, perks endless. Yet in quiet, guilt nibbled—dancing girl to queenpin, cost souls?
But desire trumped. Next limo ride, thighs parted instinctive. Cycle eternal, primal heart beating fierce. Victor’s penthouse called again—new marks, fresh hungers. I stepped out, ready, the city’s neon pulse mirroring my core’s throb.
Lightning cracked distant, sealing fate in electric kiss. 💋🔥
