Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 702: Missed Phone Calls

"Covering my mouth like that... like you’re scared I’ll make you fart for real next time? Or scared I’ll make you admit how much you love me, knowing your nasty asshole is right there, ready to let out another one while I breed you deep and fill you up until you’re overflowing and leaking on the floor?"

Her hand stayed clamped tight over my mouth, her eyes wide and glassy in the mirror, cheeks still flushed dark red as she tried to glare and moan at the same time—her body trembling, pussy still twitching and dripping my cum onto the growing puddle below.

"F-Fuck... Dexter... you’re such a bastard..." she whimpered, the words slipping out all shaky and broken around her palm, her voice cracking with that mix of rage and raw need that only made her look even more like the pathetic, bratty, cum-stuffed whore she is for me.

Madeline pushed me back, her legs limping slightly as if she were afraid to be fucked again. The fear in her eyes was real, but so was the desire—the need that she couldn’t hide.

I chuckled, the sound dark and knowing, as I watched her struggle. Then, her voice came out, small but defiant, as she stepped closer to me, her eyes burning into mine. "Tell me..." she demanded, her voice trembling but laced with curiosity.

"Was I good...?" She paused, her lips curling into a smirk, but her eyes were serious. "Or... Marina...?" Her voice dropped, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her dress. "Or that bitch masked woman, Lois...?" She tilted her head, her voice a challenge. "Who’s the best among us...?"

I looked at Madeline, my gaze raking over her body—her flushed skin, her trembling thighs, the cum still dripping from her pussy. Then I stepped closer, my voice a dark purr as I reached out, my fingers tracing the path of the semen down her thighs.

"I like my naughty Madam the most..." I growled, my lips curling into a smirk, my hand sliding up to grip her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze. "Her asshole..." My voice was a dark whisper, my thumb pressing against her lips. "...is the best..."

Madeline’s eyes flashed with that sharp, hungry glint—no anger, just pure satisfaction, triumph, and something darker, hungrier that made her thighs clench, and her pussy flutter again.

She nodded slowly, voice soft but dripping with pride, her bratty little smirk returning full force as she stayed right there, my cum-smeared cock still twitching against her thigh.

"Good answer... but you are not getting it... today..." she purred, the words slipping out all teasing and breathy, her free hand sliding up to tease the tip of my throbbing cock with a slow, feather-light stroke that made me groan.

Madeline suddenly showed me that mischievous, coy smile—lips curled just right, eyes sparkling with pure brat energy—while she stayed impaled on my cock, legs spread wide so I could watch every drop of my cum still leaking out around the base in a constant, filthy trickle.

"C’mon," she whispered, voice all breathy and teasing, "Cary me to the bed." —she corrected herself with a little giggle, but it came out breathy and filthy—"Carry me to the bed, Dexter. My legs are shaking too much after you filled me up like that..."

I grinned like a devil, scooped her up in a smooth princess carry—her legs wrapping around my waist, her arms around my neck, her tits pressed soft against my chest—and carried her all the way to the big, rumpled bed while she nuzzled into my neck, still leaking my cum in slow, messy pulses.

I laid her down gently, but she immediately pulled the thick blanket up to her chin like a shy little cum-dump, hiding her flushed, glistening body while her eyes peeked out over the edge, daring me.

"I am so tired..." she moaned, voice all soft and bratty, her walls still fluttering and dripping around nothing as another thick rope of my seed PLIP-PLIP-PLIP landed on the sheets.

"You can go out... but before that..." She glared at me through the blanket’s edge, cheeks still burning crimson, her bratty little smirk making her look even more like the perfect, owned whore she is.

"You are allowed to fuck that bitch Marina... I will deal with her... cuckolding my son... how can she be so bold..." she whispered, voice dripping with fake jealousy and that dangerous, hungry edge, her free hand slipping out to wrap around my still-hard cock and give it a teasing, possessive squeeze.

I nodded, my cock still rock-hard and twitching from Madeline’s possessive squeeze, and slipped back into my clothes—shirt half-unbuttoned, pants zipped but the bulge still obvious. I walked out of the bedroom, the thick blanket still half-pulled down on the bed behind me like a dirty little promise.

The hallway was quiet, the air thick with the musky leftover scent of our sex, Madeline’s cum still leaking down her thighs in slow, obscene pulses. I passed the door to her room, glanced back once at the fogged-up mirror, and smirked.

And there she was—Lila—standing outside Marina’s door like the pathetic little slut she was. Same tight white dress hugging her body, nipples already poking through the fabric, lips painted that cheap red, eyes locked on me with that hungry, jealous glare.

Then I noticed it.

The security of the White House had reached red level.

It was impossible to miss. Bodyguards moved in tight, synchronized pairs, their automatic rifles slung over their shoulders, their bodies tense, their eyes scanning every corner like they expected a threat to materialize at any second.

They moved like clockwork—one covering the rear while the other swept forward, their boots clicking sharply against the marble floors. The air hummed with tension, the atmosphere electric with unspoken danger.

Red level. That meant every single entrance was locked down tighter than a virgin’s ass—patrols doubled, cameras rolling on high alert, snipers posted on the rooftops. Something was wrong. And I wasn’t sticking around to find out what.

I slipped into my room, but the empty space greeted me—Marina was gone. No note, no trace, just the lingering scent of her perfume and the cold realization that she’d left without a word.

I didn’t hesitate.

Activating God Speed, the world blurred around me as I bolted home, the rush of wind whipping against my skin. The sudden shift from the high-stakes tension of the White House to the warm, familiar chaos of home was jarring.

The door swung open, and I stepped inside—only to be hit with the sound of my mother’s voice, sharp and worried.

"Where did you guys go...?" Her tone was laced with frustration, but beneath it, there was hurt.

"You have your Aunt Diana here. You forgot about your mom...?" She shook her head, her eyes narrowing as she took me in—disheveled, distracted, guilty. "What a bad boy..."