Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 506: Aunt Diana’s Rules

"Safety first," I murmured, my lips brushing the shell of her ear, my breath hot against her skin. Her scent—warm, floral, with a hint of something darker—filled my lungs, her body heat radiating against me.

She swallowed hard, her pulse fluttering in her throat, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. "Y-You scared me..."

I pulled back, just enough to lock eyes with her, my smirk slow, knowing. "Did I?"

Her gaze darkened, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You knew I didn’t."

I chuckled, low and rough, my fingers lingering on the seatbelt before trailing to her thigh, brushing the fabric of her skirt. "Then maybe you should pay better attention, Diana."

Her breath hitched, sharp and unsteady, her fingers digging into the leather seat as if it were the only thing grounding her.

Her eyes flicked to my mouth, lingering there for a beat too long, before snapping back to meet mine. The air between us was thick, charged, like the moment before a storm breaks.

"Or maybe you should warn a girl before you invade her space." Her voice was breathy, but there was a new edge to it—less arrogance, more flustered defiance, her cheeks flushed a delicate pink.

I leaned in again, my voice a low growl, my breath hot against the shell of her ear. "Where’s the fun in that?"

Diana’s smirk faltered, her lips pressing together as she blushed deeper, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her skirt.

The coquettish tone she adopted was laced with faux indignation, but her eyes betrayed her—wide, uncertain, like she was suddenly realizing she’d poked a lion and wasn’t sure if it would play or pounce.

"Hmph..." She tossed her hair, though the gesture lacked its earlier confidence.

"I’ll talk to your mom... Tell her you’ve turned into a bad boy." Her tongue darted out, wetting her lower lip, before she added, "See how she deals with you."

I pulled back, my expression shifting into mock terror, my hands flying up in exaggerated surrender.

"No—! No—! Aunt Diana, don’t tell Mom...!" I whined, my voice dripping with false desperation, my eyes wide and pleading. "I was just kidding...!"

Diana’s lips curled into a smug, triumphant smile, her posture straightening as she regained her footing.

"Now you’re scared..." She leaned in, her perfume—warm vanilla and something darker—filling the space between us. "See how I’ll deal with you..."

I started the car, my hands gripping the wheel with over-the-top nervousness, my knuckles whitening as I drove straight to the villa, my speed just shy of reckless.

"Okay, okay...! You win...!" I called out, my voice laced with feigned panic, my eyes darting to her in the rearview mirror.

She laughed, the sound rich and satisfied, her fingers tapping her chin like a victorious queen.

We pulled into the driveway, the gravel crunching under the tires, and I hopped out, gesturing for the maids to take Diana’s luggage.

But Diana stepped forward, her hand raising in a gentle but firm command.

"You guys go back to work..." Her voice was sweet, but her tone brooked no argument. "Dexter will help me put the luggage..." She turned to me, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Won’t you, Dexter?"

I sighed dramatically, rubbing the back of my neck like a chastised child. "Okay... Okay... You win..."

Her smile was pure triumph, but there was a flicker of something softer beneath it—amusement, maybe even a hint of affection. "Good boy."

The guest room was on the first floor, a fact I’d known since childhood—but Diana didn’t.

And I was going to make her pay for that teasing threat.

Her luggage sat at the foot of the stairs—two massive, full-sized suitcases, black and sleek, the kind that screamed luxury but weighed as much as a feather to me.

For a normal man, they’d be back-breaking. For her, they were probably a nuisance.

For me?

A perfect weapon.

I crouched in front of the first one, gripping the handle with both hands, my face already twisting into a mask of suffering.

"Alright..." I grunted, heaving it up with an exaggerated groan, my knees nearly buckling under the "weight".

"Nngh—! Oh—! This is—!" My voice cracked, my back arching as I pretended to struggle, the veins in my forearms bulging (or appearing to), my breath coming in ragged, panicked gasps.

Diana watched from the bottom step, her arms crossed, her lips curled in amusement. "Oh, please..." She rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of uncertainty there. "You’re overacting."

I ignored her, staggering up the first step, my foot slipping as if the suitcase was dragging me back down. "I—I’ve got it—!" I wheezed, my face flushed, sweat (or pretend sweat) beading on my forehead.

My shirt clung to my back, damp patches spreading under my arms, my chest heaving as if I’d just run a marathon.

"Dexter, cease your struggling—!" Diana’s arms, previously crossed, unfolded, her playful smirk dissolving into genuine worry. "You’re courting injury—!"

"N-Never..!" I grunted, hoisting the heavy suitcase upward, each step a monumental effort that sent tremors through my knees, my spare hand clinging to the railing as if it were my sole anchor to existence.

"I—I am capable of this!" My voice cracked, strained with desperation, my breaths turning into shallow, ragged gasps.

Diana’s lips thinned, her fingers nervously entwining. "Dexter—!"

My ears were deaf to her pleas.

With a final, theatrical surge of strength, I wrestled the suitcase onto the last step. My legs quivered uncontrollably, my entire frame shuddering from the sheer feigned ‘exertion’. I then tumbled onto the landing, the suitcase landing with a soft thud beside me. My chest heaved as though I'd just emerged from a fierce battle.

"See… there...!" I gasped, swiping at my brow with the back of my hand, my face a portrait of exaggerated, pitiful resolve. "One… conquered..."

Diana remained rooted at the staircase's base, her eyes wide with disbelief, one hand pressed against her chest. "You—! You utter—!" She let out an exasperated huff and ascended the steps, the sharp click of her heels echoing. "Such ridiculousness!"

I didn’t grant her the courtesy of a response.

With a pained groan, I reached for the second suitcase, heaving it upwards with a strangled sound, my body swaying precariously under its supposed ‘burden’.

"Nnngh—! This one is—! Oh, the agony—!" My knees threatened to buckle entirely, my face contorted in a grimace of fabricated pain, my breath catching in pathetic, wheezing bursts.

"Dexter, HOLD—!" Diana hurried forward, her voice sharp, her hands instinctively reaching out. "You'll collapse—!"

"I can manage." I whined, staggering unevenly up the stairs, my shoulders hunched, my entire being trembling with ostentatious ‘effort’.

"It’s not that weighty." My voice faltered mid-sentence, my free hand white-knuckled as it gripped the banister with desperate force.