MOST OF THE CHAPTER CONTAINS (R-18) CONTENT. BUT THERE IS AN IMPORTANT PIECE OF INFORMATION IN THE LAST FEW PARAGRAPHS; IT DOESN'T MATTER WHETHER YOU READ IT HERE OR NOT, AS I AM GONNA ADD THIS POINT IN UPCOMING CHAPTERS.
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Celise's whole body went crimson, but she whispered, breathless, "Y-yes. That's exactly what they want. They want their daughters to carry your children… to make their bloodline part of your dynasty. And with that I have finished reporting all the major reports."
Nova laughed softly, then without warning, Nova's arm tightened around Celise's waist. He lifted her easily, spinning her to straddle him face-to-face. Her eyes widened, her lips parting in a gasp before his mouth claimed hers in a hard kiss. She whimpered, her hands clutching at the papers as his tongue pushed into her mouth, owning her completely.
Breaking the kiss, he dragged his lips lower, catching one nipple between his teeth, biting until she squealed and sucking until the stiff bud throbbed, then moved to the other, leaving wet marks across her pale skin. Celise moaned desperately, her professionalism unraveling as his mouth worked over her nipples, lips hot and merciless.
Outwardly, Nova looked indulgent in pleasure and bullying his sexy secratary, but inwardly, his thoughts were already weaving the kingdom into a net.
It was expected. A four-leaf grimoire was more than just rare — it was a divine sign. Historically, every four-leaf grimoire holder had been central to the fate of the Clover Kingdom. The nobles knew this. To them, Nova's existence was not only power but omen.
Multi-elemental mages were nearly unheard of; the majority wielded only one attribute, some two. Three was already cause for awe. But Nova had shown control over basic and rare elements both. Fire, water, earth, wind, lightning. And rarer: time, space, darkness. That level of affinity alone would have placed him at the pinnacle of the nobility. Combined with the four-leaf grimoire, it elevated him into the realm of myth.
The Ashbourne name had nearly vanished, but now its heir was no longer a forgotten relic. He was a figure every noble wanted tied to their blood.
In Clover politics, concubines were not scandal but structure. A wife was alliance. Concubines were webs. Each concubine secured loyalty from her house, ensured their gold, their men, their votes in noble councils would serve her husband's line. Refuse too many and you created rivals. Accept wisely, and you created a network of bonds stronger than any law.
Nova pulled back from her tit, a line of spit stretching from her nipple to his lips. He grinned, then kissed her mouth again, deep and claiming, before whispering against her lips: "Yes… I'll take them all. Every concubine who's worth my time."
Celise shuddered in his arms, eyes hazy, still clutching the letters though they trembled in her hands.
Yes — he would accept the concubines. All of them. And why not? In every world he'd seen, there were no ugly women. In Clover, in Harry Potter, in Marvel — magic and mutations had polished away imperfections, leaving only beauty. Every contract sent to him came with a daughter worth fucking, worth breeding, worth tying to his business.
One of his wishes had always been to orchestrate an orgy — drowning in tits, asses, and moans. What? He was a transmigrator; loose morals came with the package. At least he was sensible enough not to fuck Narcissa right after killing Lucius.
Anyway, concubines only benefited him. Each womb added to his empire. Each child expanded his dominion.
But the royal princess — she was the wild card. He had expected daughters, concubines, alliances. But not the king's own sister. That had been a surprise. Maybe the king wasn't the idiot anime made him seem.
The outcome was clear: a royal wife to make House Ashbourne atleast equal to Silva, Vermillion, and Kira. And dozens of concubines to bind every other house beneath him.
If the princess had strength and ambition, she would be a pillar. If she was vain and petty? Then she would be reshaped. He had the power. He would bend her mind and break her flaws until she fit. He wouldn't allow fire in his own house.
Nova's lips curled into a grin. He picked Celise up suddenly, ignoring her startled cry, and threw her onto the desk in front of him. Parchment scattered, seals rolling across the polished wood. She gasped, wide-eyed, as he stood, tugging his trousers open. His cock slapped down heavy against her clothed cunt.
He smacked it again, the wet sound filthy in the quiet study. Celise's breath hitched as he pressed the head against her damp heat through the thin fabric.
With one brutal pull, Nova tore the cloth aside, baring her. His eyes glinted darkly as he leaned over her.
"You passed," he growled, cock rubbing against her soaked slit. "I'll grant you any wish you want…" He paused, smirking, before slamming his cock down against her again. "…but first, I want to ravage this slutty cunt of yours all over again."
He finished speaking — then drove into her in a single, savage thrust, burying himself to the hilt. Celise's scream of pleasure ripped through the quiet, echoing off the study walls.
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A few hours later, Nova leaned back in the heavy oak chair, the creak of its frame barely audible over the soft, wet sounds filling the study. His fingers tangled in Celise's dark, sweat-dampened hair, guiding her gently but firmly as she knelt between his spread thighs. Her torn clothes—shreds of her once-pristine blouse and skirt—lay scattered across the floor, a chaotic testament to the hours they'd spent ravaging each other. The air was thick with the musky scent of sex, sweat, and her perfume, now faint beneath the raw, primal odor of their bodies.
Celise's naked form was a masterpiece of debauchery. Her pale skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, catching the dim glow of the candlelight flickering on the desk. Her tits, full and heavy, bore the marks of his hunger—red, angry bite marks peppered across the soft flesh, some bruising faintly around the edges where he'd been particularly rough. Her nipples, still hard and swollen from his earlier attention, jutted out, glistening with traces of his spit.
Her face was a vision of wrecked beauty. Her cheeks were flushed a deep, feverish pink, her lips swollen and slick from kissing and sucking. Strands of her hair clung to her forehead and neck, matted with sweat.
Lower, her pussy, still puffy and glistening, leaked a slow, thick trickle of his cum, mingling with her own juices. It dripped down the inside of her thigh, a creamy white trail that stood out starkly against her flushed skin. Her folds were swollen, red from the relentless pounding he'd given her, the delicate skin glistening wetly in the low light. Every now and then, her hips twitched involuntarily, as if her body was still reeling from the overstimulation, her cunt clenching around nothing and forcing another bead of cum to ooze out.
His cock, still hard despite the hours they'd spent, glistened with her saliva as she worshipped it. Her eyes fluttered, a soft gasp escaping her as she pulled back slightly, her lips dragging along his length with a wet, obscene sound. A string of saliva connected her mouth to the tip, snapping as she licked her lips, panting softly. Her tongue darted out again, tracing the underside of his shaft, following the thick vein there as if she were memorizing every inch.
Her breath came in short, ragged bursts, each one hot against his cock as she nuzzled it, pressing her cheek against the slick shaft before taking it back into her mouth. The wet heat of her tongue was heavenly, curling around him with practiced ease.
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While Celise was worshipping his cock, Nova leaned back on his chair. Damn, he had just found a side effect of creating clones with shared consciousness: he easily got horny if his clones were fucking other women. This morning, he had no plans of bullying and fucking Celise.
The problem was simple but annoying. His clones weren't mindless puppets — they were fragments of himself, sharing the same soul-link. That meant their feelings didn't stay neatly locked in their own bodies. When they were in danger, he felt the edge of their panic. When they were having fun, he felt the rush of it too.
Most of the time it was just a faint echo in the back of his mind, easy enough to ignore. But lust… that was different. That came in hot and vivid, spilling straight into him as if his own nerves were being played like strings.
Right now two of them were busy. In Marvel, his clone was with Gwen, tangled up in that ridiculous spider-suit roleplay they'd joked about. The other was in the Harry Potter world, having a threesome with Lily and Emma.
One clone's pleasure he could usually tune out — like background noise he'd learned to push aside. But two at the same time? Their emotions tangled together and came back at him like a wave, too strong to shut out. His own body responded before he could block it, making him restless, sharp-edged, and ready to jump whoever happened to be closest.
It was funny at first, until he thought about what it could mean mid-battle. A stray surge of lust in the middle of a fight could ruin his focus or throw his aim off just enough to matter. He grimaced at the thought — it would be more than just embarrassing if it ever cost him a duel.
He'd have to figure out a way to fix this link, but that could wait. For now, Celise was the unlucky one who had to deal with his mood. The bet he'd offered her — one free wish — was his way of calling it even for the trouble she was about to go through.
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CHAPTER:- [125 - ACCUSATIONS] IS AVAILABLE ON MY P@TREON