Reborn as the Psycho Villainess Who Ate Her Slave Beasts' Contracts

Chapter 404: Chapter-404

He reached out, his thumb catching her chin and tilting her face upward so she had no choice but to look into his dark, predatory eyes.

"Then let him cry," Ken whispered, leaning down until his breath fanned over her lips. "You spent years running an empire. You can spend one night letting us ruin your sleep schedule."

Without waiting for her to agree—knowing she likely wouldn’t voice agreement anyway—Ken leaned in and captured her mouth in a deep, commanding kiss. At the same time, Mahir let out a soft growl of approval against her neck, his hands sliding down to her hips to lift her slightly, guiding her backward toward the massive, waiting bed.

Elara closed her eyes, letting her mind switch off completely. She still didn’t know what she was supposed to feel, but as the cool air of the room hit her skin, replaced immediately by the intense heat of the two men, she decided that thinking was overrated anyway.

The weight of her body hit the mattress, the heavy velvet blankets shifting beneath her as Ken and Mahir pressed in close, cutting off the remaining cool air of the room.

For someone like Elara, who spent the vast majority of her life calculating political moves, anticipating betrayals, and balancing the delicate scales of an empire, this specific environment was the only place where the relentless static in her mind truly fell silent. She did not feel the fiery passion or the romantic longing that poets wrote about; instead, she processed the scene through a sequence of sharp, physical realities. The heavy scent of cedar and musk, the unyielding heat of their skin, and the deliberate, rhythmic pressure of their movements against her own.

Ken broke the kiss slowly, his lips lingering against hers for a fraction of a second before he pulled back just enough to look down at her face. His gaze was intense, tracking the completely unbothered, steady rhythm of her breathing.

"Still as calm as a frozen lake," Ken murmured, a faint, sharp smirk touching his lips. He reached down, his fingers tangling into her hair, gently anchoring her head to the pillow. "Let’s see how long that lasts tonight, Master."

Behind her, Mahir wasn’t wasting any time. His hands, calloused from years of training and combat, slid firmly around her waist, lifting her slightly to strip away the remnants of her shirt and trousers. His movements weren’t frantic, but they possessed a heavy, possessive certainty. As his fur-tipped ears twitched against her shoulder, his tail wrapped tighter around her calf, locking her into place against him.

"Don’t talk so much, Ken," Mahir grumbled, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling vibration that echoed right against Elara’s spine. "Master has finally stopped thinking about those damn documents. Don’t ruin it."

Mahir leaned over her shoulder, his teeth grazing lightly along the column of her neck, finding the exact spot where her pulse beat steady and slow. He bit down just hard enough to leave a mark, a physical claim that drew a sharp, involuntary intake of breath from her.

To Elara, the sensation wasn’t a spark of emotion—it was raw sensory input. It was a demand for her attention that she couldn’t ignore or delegate to an administrator.

Ken moved over her, his heavy thighs framing her hips as he lowered his weight. He didn’t rush the physical alignment; instead, he used his hands to trace the lines of her collarbones, pressing down on her shoulders to feel the tension she still carried from her hours in the office.

"Relax, Master," Ken whispered, his voice dark and commanding as he leaned down to press his forehead against hers. "You’re not the emperor in this room. You don’t have to carry anything."

When he finally guided her legs around his waist and drove into her, the sudden, blunt force of the intrusion made her fingers tighten instinctively into the sheets. The physical friction was immediate and intense. Ken began a steady, punishing rhythm, each thrust deep and deliberate, designed to shatter the stoic armor she wore like a second skin.

Elara’s head tilted back, her eyes staring blankly up at the canopy of the bed as her body adjusted to the intrusion. The sheer scale of the physical sensation began to blur her focus. She couldn’t think about Samuel, she couldn’t think about Demerti’s lingering questions beneath the moonlight, and she certainly couldn’t think about the 10% of the paperwork waiting on her desk for tomorrow. There was only the heavy, relentless thud of Ken’s weight against her, and the friction burning between them.

Mahir didn’t remain a spectator. Sensing the shift in her breathing, he shifted his position behind her, his large hands gripping her hips from behind to alter the angle, forcing her to take Ken even deeper. At the same time, Mahir reached around her body, his fingers traveling over her stomach and upward, his touch firm and demanding as he stroked her skin, adding an entirely different layer of physical stimulation to her nerve endings.

The contrast between the two men was overwhelming. Ken was methodical, focusing on a deep, unrelenting cadence that shook her core, while Mahir was chaotic and primal, shifting his weight, nuzzling her hair, and using his beast-kin strength to hold her exactly where they wanted her.

"Look at me," Ken commanded, his voice strained now, the smooth veneer of his composure cracking under the heat of the act.

Elara forced her eyelids open, meeting his dark, dilated gaze. Even now, her eyes were clear, but the faint flush rising on her cheeks and the shallow, quickening pace of her breath betrayed her body’s compliance.

"You’re here," Ken said, a harsh exhale escaping him as he picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming faster, harder, driving her back against the pillows. "Not in the office. Here, Master."

"I am... here," she managed to say, her voice breaking slightly for the first time, the flat tone clipped by the sheer physical exertion of remaining steady under their combined assault.

Mahir let out a low growl at the sound of her voice losing its edge. He shifted, pulling her upper body back against his chest so that she was completely sandwiched between them, her back pressed to his hot skin while Ken continued to drive into her from the front. Mahir’s hands moved down, his fingers finding the sensitive nexus of nerves between her thighs, adding a sharp, localized friction that ran like an electric current straight up her spine.

The accumulation of sensations was becoming too vast for her analytical mind to categorize. The steady, heavy pounding from Ken, the sharp, relentless friction from Mahir’s fingers, and the claustrophobic, suffocating heat of their bodies enclosing her from both sides created a sensory overload.

Her hands flew out, gripping Ken’s muscular shoulders for support as her hips began to move instinctively against him, seeking the release that would end the overwhelming tension building in her lower abdomen.

"That’s it," Mahir whispered huskily into her ear, his tail twitching erratically against her legs as his own arousal peaked. "Move for us, Master."

Ken’s pace became frantic, the rhythm losing its calculated control as he felt her internal muscles tighten around him in response to Mahir’s touch. He gripped her thighs, lifting them higher onto his shoulders to achieve the maximum depth, each impact echoing loudly in the quiet room.