Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 477: Emily’s Condom Tease

Emily gripped my hand tighter, her voice gentle yet infused with fresh resolve. "Then... we’ll take Mom to meet him together."

Her words held a subtle power, a determination that squeezed my heart with emotion surpassing pride—raw and genuine. She wasn’t simply consenting; she was selecting this road, selecting me.

I gave a nod, my thumb stroking her knuckles in a wordless vow. "Together."

She paused, her breathing catching as she scanned my features in the faint moonlight.

Then, drawing a deep breath, she inquired, "Can you tell me about yourself, Dexter?" Her tone was a mere murmur, yet the depth of her query lingered between us like a silent pledge. "I mean... everything. I want to know everything about you."

I breathed out gradually, realizing this was the instant to reveal all—no more hiding, no more partial truths. And so I shared it all.

I described the shattered timelines I had traversed, the individuals I had rescued from ruin, the covert battles waged, and the authority I now commanded over the whole base.

I revealed the isolation of leadership, the weight of hidden truths, and the bizarre destiny that brought me to her home.

Emily grasped the outlines already, but the specifics—the vastness of it—widened her eyes, then filled them with reverence.

"You’re... so awesome," she whispered, awe coloring her voice, her grip on my hand intensifying as if anchoring herself to my presence.

I laughed softly, drawing her nearer, my lips grazing her temple. "Awesome isn’t the term I’d pick. But I’ll accept it."

Her face changed then, brows knitting faintly, her tone adopting a cautious evenness. "So... you’re so powerful," she stated evenly.

"Tell me... is there any other woman in your life?" She waited, her stare intensifying like a dagger. "What about Angela? She’s always so close to you."

I held steady. I locked eyes with her directly, my arms encircling her waist, drawing her to me. "Emily, I won’t conceal anything from you," I declared, my voice firm and resolute.

"Yes, there are other women. But I cherish and value each uniquely. And I vow—I’ll never mistreat you."

She inclined her head gradually, her fingers clutching my shirt’s material, her exhalation warm on my chest. "If you dare to bully me," she cautioned, steel threading her words, "I will definitely not let you go. Hmph."

A grin pulled at my mouth. "I’d expect nothing less."

Yet she pressed on. Her following query struck keener, laced with intrigue and a touch of reproach. "What about Aunt Nathalie?" Her gaze tightened, her whisper turning secretive.

"Is she also your woman? Don’t lie to me." She huffed, cheeks blooming with blended shame and anger.

"When you weren’t here, I heard voices from her room. I peeked in, and I saw her... yelling your name while—" She stopped abruptly, face aflame. "You’re so bad. Not even sparing an old woman."

I chuckled deeply, without remorse, my palms gliding to her hips, thumbs drawing lazy patterns on her dress.

"I don’t mind age, Emily," I whispered, my tone a playful growl. "As long as they’re beautiful. And don’t you think Nathalie remains quite stunning, even now?"

Emily’s eyes sparked with feigned fury, though amusement danced underneath. "Still thinking about other women!" she snorted, but before escape, I captured her chin, lifting her face to mine.

"Jealousy suits you well," I breathed, lips brushing hers. "But you’ll always be the one I return to."

She trembled, breath faltering, yet held firm. Instead, she lifted on tiptoes, her mouth seizing mine with fierce passion that robbed my air. Her fists bunched my shirt, hauling me in, her form molding to mine as if to fuse. The kiss burned with hunger, urgency—possession.

At last she withdrew, eyes shadowed with craving, lips plump. "Prove it," she dared, voice a throaty hush.

I required no second urging.

Emily refused to await my lead. With daring that ignited fire in my core, she seized my hand, tugging me to the house, strides swift and intent.

Upon entering her bedroom, she slammed the door closed, the lock’s snap resounding like thunder in the silence.

She spun toward me, spine to the door, breaths ragged and quick. Moonlight filtered through drapes, bathing her in silver, accentuating her heaving chest with eager tension. Then, with measured intent, she unzipped her dress from behind.

The cloth cascaded to her ankles, exposing her in sheer black mesh lingerie—near transparency, utterly provocative.

The flimsy material hugged her shape, dark lace scarcely holding her breasts, stiff nipples straining the fabric as if pleading for contact. My eyes descended to the smooth, slick folds between her legs, already slick, yearning for me.

"Fuck, Emily," I rasped, my erection throbbing in my trousers, palms burning to claim her.

She grinned slyly, fingers gliding down her belly, dipping under the lace to stroke herself. "You like what you see?" she cooed, desire thickening her words.

"You know I do," I snarled, bridging the gap in two steps. My hands seized her waist, thumbs snagging her panty lace, yanking them off her legs. She shed them, her core exposed, soaked, primed for me.

She fished a condom from the nightstand, eyes gleaming mischievously. "I’m not ready for a baby yet," she noted, ripping the packet with teeth.

"I want to enjoy life with you first. Just us." She sheathed me, fingers delaying to caress, her touch maddening.

I clutched her hips, hoisting her easily; her legs encircled my waist, arms around my neck. "Then let’s enjoy it," I breathed, pinning her to the door while aligning at her core.

She gasped as I drove in, burying deep in one fierce plunge. Her head thumped the door, a shattered cry escaping. "Oh god—!" she wailed, nails raking my shoulders. "You’re so deep—!"

I offered no respite. I hammered relentlessly, door shuddering per brutal drive, flesh smacking flesh echoing loud. Emily’s cries were lewd, frantic, her frame quaking as she held on. "Harder!" she pleaded hoarsely. "Fuck me harder!"