Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System! - Chapter 577

Chapter 577: Oh~ Scarlett (R-18)

Her voice cracked beneath the storm, trembling but clear.

“End me, if you have to… but do it inside me. Please, my Prince… fuck me like you’ve never stopped wanting to.”

He didn’t speak.

Words didn’t fit what surged through him. Not now. Not when her body—drenched, trembling, and open beneath him—felt like a prayer finally answered.

So instead, Parker leaned over her, letting the heat of his body settle slowly against her rain-slicked skin. Their chests met first—his warmth against her damp softness—followed by the slow slide of his cock against her inner thigh, hard and aching, dragging through the wet heat already waiting for him.

Her folds pulsed beneath him, flushed and swollen with need, parting for him as if her body knew—this was the moment. Her legs shifted wider, welcoming him, and he let his shaft glide through her slit, from her clit to her entrance, dragging a moan from both of them.

When he found her pussy—tight, trembling, soaked—he paused.

Just feeling her.

Letting that sacred heat speak to him, draw him in.

And then—slowly—he pressed forward.

The first inch of his cock sank into her slightly hairy pussy with resistance, her body stretching to take him. A long gasp shuddered from her lips, her fingers curling into the moss, eyes wide as her core swallowed him.

Inch by inch, he pushed deeper.

Her walls hugged his impossible cock, pulling him in with a desperate grip that pulsed and fluttered like her body had missed him her whole life. Every part of her clung to him, her core molding around his length like it was meant for nothing else.

He groaned—deep, rough, helpless.

“You’re so… warm,” he murmured, voice husky against the side of her face. “Even in the rain.”

Her body arched. Her hands found his shoulders. Her breath hitched with every slow push as he fed her more of himself—inch by aching inch.

“Parker…” she sobbed, legs curling around his waist fighting the pain of her virginity. She did not show it but from the blood washed away by the rain, he knew.

“You’re… gods, you’re too deep—”

He held still, buried halfway, letting her adjust, letting her body learn him. Her folds stretched wide around him, her slick heat swallowing him whole as if she needed to feel every bit.

He looked down between them.

Where they were joined.

Where her body, rain-slick and glistening, stretched around the thick length of his cock like velvet around steel.

And then, with a breath, he pressed in again—deeper. Slower.

Her lips parted together with her pussy, in a gasp so soft, it felt like a kiss to his soul.

He didn’t rush. Didn’t thrust.

He sank.

Until he was fully inside her.

Every inch, seated deep—claiming her in a way that was primal, tender, and utterly devastating.

She cried out softly, wrapping around him like a woman starved, her arms locked around his neck, pulling him down until their foreheads met and their lips brushed in shallow, shaking breaths.

And then… they moved.

Together.

Rhythmic. Gentle. A slow, grinding motion that let them feel everything. Skin against skin, pressure against pressure, her soft moans lost against his throat with each roll of his hips.

The forest stood still.

The rain turned soft, like the sky itself wanted to watch.

The moss cradled them, the moonlight spilled over their bodies like silver silk, lighting her curves, the way her breasts rose and fell, the way her thighs quivered with each slow stroke he gave her.

“Scarlett…” he whispered into the crook of her neck, voice almost broken. “You feel like sin and salvation.” She was warm despite the rain and being a vampire.

She whimpered in response, grinding up against him, her hips chasing each thrust like she was scared he’d pull away. But he didn’t. Not even an inch.

He stayed buried deep.

Moving slow, never breaking the connection. Just rocking, filling her over and over again—each thrust deep and dragging, sending shockwaves through her core.

Every moan from her lips was a hymn.

Every roll of her hips was a plea.

Her nails dragged down his back—not to hurt—but to hold. To mark. To tether herself to the moment before it swallowed her whole.

Her eyes—half-lidded, dazed—met his again and again, like she couldn’t believe he was real. That this was real.

He kissed her when her words broke.

Held her when she started to shake.

Whispered her name like it was holy when she began to come undone beneath him, her orgasm rising like a tide until it crashed with a scream muffled against his mouth.

She shattered.

Her walls clamped tight around him, trembling as her whole body spasmed in waves of pleasure. Her thighs locked around him. Her hands buried in his hair.

And he gave in.

His climax surged up his spine, took his breath, and he thrust deep once more—groaning, shuddering, gasping—as he spilled inside her. Hot, thick release flooding her trembling core, mixing with the rain and the heat and the mess they’d made of the night.

And then silence.

Just breath.

Just skin.

Just the sound of her hands smoothing down his back as she whispered his name like a secret prayer, soft and grateful.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t pull out.

He stayed inside her, buried and held, as if leaving her now would break something neither of them could fix.

And maybe it would.

So he stayed.

Wrapped in her.

His lips against her temple.

His body trembling with hers.

His heart… finally quiet.

He moved inside again.

Inch by aching inch, he pushed into her, and the sound she made—it wasn’t a moan. It was a confession torn from the soul.

Her back arched. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. Her lips fell open, but no words came—only the sound of air being stolen from her lungs as he stretched her open, deeper, deeper, until he was buried inside her fully.

She was tight. Warm. Home.

Parker froze for a moment, chest heaving, forehead pressed to hers. The world tilted. Her body gripped him like it had been waiting since the beginning of time, and maybe it had.

Scarlett exhaled like she’d just touched something holy.

He kissed her.

And then he moved.

Slow at first. Agonizing. Like he was trying to memorize the way her body reacted to every pull, every push. His hips rolled, smooth and controlled, and her breath caught every time he bottomed out.

Her legs wrapped around him.

Her hands tangled in his rain-slick hair.

And her voice—gods, her voice—it broke open.

“Parker…” she whispered like a prayer. Like a surrender. Like she’d finally stopped fighting what this was.

He pressed his mouth to her throat, to her collarbone, to the curve of her breast, and each thrust was a vow made flesh.

I missed you. I never stopped wanting you. You were always mine.

He shifted deeper, angling just right, and she gasped—head tilting back, eyes wide as the pleasure hit a place that shattered her completely.

Her walls clenched around him, slick and desperate, and he didn’t hold back the groan that broke in his throat.

She was close.

He could feel it.

But this wasn’t about rushing. This was about making her remember.

Making sure that every inch of her body—every nerve, every breath—would burn his name into her skin.

His hand slipped between them, fingers finding that sensitive spot just above where they were joined, and when he touched her there—soft, slow circles—she bucked beneath him like she was losing her mind.

“Fuck— Parker—please—”

He stilled, barely inside her, lips brushing her ear.

“Say it again,” he growled, voice like thunder breaking behind clenched teeth.

Her whole body trembled.

“Please,” she gasped, writhing against him. “Please… I need to feel all of you. Don’t stop. Don’t—” Her voice cracked, pure desperation. “Claim me.”

And he did.

His pace quickened, still slow but powerful—deep, deliberate thrusts that made the moss beneath them steam from their heat. The storm above had quieted, but the one between them raged.

Scarlett was lost beneath him now—her moans fractured, her fingers clawing down his back, her body giving in every sense of the word.

He kissed her through it—again and again—lips to mouth, to cheek, to jaw. Tasting tears, or rain, or both.

“Mine,” he whispered.

She nodded against his neck, hips rising to meet every thrust.

“Yours,” she moaned. “Always… yours.”

And when she came—gods—it was a tidal wave.

Her whole body arched up into him, thighs trembling, breath gone, eyes wide and glassy as her climax ripped through her like the storm reborn. She didn’t scream.

She whispered his name like it was the only thing keeping her from breaking apart.

And he followed her over the edge seconds later—groaning low in her ear, hips stilling, his whole body locking as he poured every ounce of want, memory, love into her.

They didn’t move for a long time after.

Just breath against breath.

Rain soft around them.

Moss warm beneath.

Her fingers traced slow circles across his back. His lips never left her skin. He was still inside her, their bodies still locked, still tangled.

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