There was urgency in her words, genuine concern. But Gregory showed no surprise. He had expected this—if anything, it was taking longer than he had anticipated.
"Don't worry, Miles. We're almost done here. If anything happens again, let me know immediately. But I'm pretty sure we'll sort it out before then. Either way, be careful and back off if you feel the situation is becoming too dangerous. Got it?"
"Got it. I'm hanging up," Nathan replied.
The communication was cut off, and Louise replaced the radio next to Gregory's other devices.
He turned his attention back to Rebecca, his eyes intent as he slid his fingers over her scarred skin. Unhurriedly, he spread the ointment all over the bruises that stained her back and ribs, his touches precise and gentle, as if he wanted to erase the pain with his own hands.
When he was done, he didn't stop. Instead, he skimmed his thumbs masterfully down her neck, down to her shoulders, massaging firmly and carefully to ease the accumulated tension.
Every now and then, his fingers would move up to her head, smoothing her hair with the same tenderness with which he stroked her shiny white horns, as if he were admiring them. With each touch, Rebecca's body responded, relaxing even more under his care.
But he didn't stop there. He ran his thumbs down her spine in a slow, calculated movement, making his way from her neck to the base of her tail. He moved up and down, repeating the movement several times, sometimes deepening the touch, sometimes making it almost ethereal. Every now and then, his fingers would slide a little further, gently caressing her plump buttocks with skills that seemed instinctive.
Rebecca said nothing. On the contrary, she gave herself completely to the moment, feeling each touch as a silent invitation to surrender to that unexpected pleasure. In a discreet gesture, she unbuttoned her pants, allowing Gregory easier access to her skin without having to ask.
After long minutes dedicated to every detail of her body, exploring every tension with firm and enveloping touches, he gradually slowed his pace, as if he were savoring the last moments of contact.
His thumbs traced a lazy path down her spine once more, moving up and down, exploring each muscle with almost hypnotic precision. His fingers slid one last time along the base of her spine, making her shiver with his warm and deliberate touch.
But before she could lose herself in the sensation again, he stopped. In the same calm and enveloping voice as before, he murmured: "We'll continue later… I promise. But right now, we don't have any more time."
The heat of promise in his tone made her body throb in anticipation, but frustration quickly set in when she realized he wouldn't change his mind. Rebecca opened her eyes slowly, still numb from the massage, and when she sat down, her expression was filled with a mixture of disappointment and unfulfilled desire.
Her bare breasts moved slightly with her deep breath, and her military pants, still unbuttoned and unzipped, betrayed how surrendered she was to his touch. She crossed her arms beneath her bust, further highlighting her curves, and gave Gregory an intense look, hoping he would reconsider.
But he just smiled calmly, as if he were completely in control—and perhaps he was.
"For now, you're going to rest, Rebecca." His voice was firm, but filled with genuine care. "Your injuries aren't serious, but they're not minor either. Besides, your Estronitus levels are too high for you to return to combat for now."
With that, he took her clothes and began to help her get dressed again, with the same patience and naturalness of someone caring for something precious. As if she were fragile—something she clearly wasn't, but at that moment, he insisted on treating her that way.
Rebecca, however, was uncooperative. Every movement was slow, reluctant, as if getting dressed was a punishment. Her frustrated gaze didn't hide her dissatisfaction. She acted like a sullen child, upset but lacking the courage to confront him directly.
Louise, observing everything closely, immediately realized why. As soon as Gregory mentioned the Estronitus levels, it made perfect sense. Rebecca wasn't just upset—she was being forced to hold back something her body and instincts were screaming at her to do.
Gregory, on the other hand, remained impassive. He buttoned her pants with precision and calm so that she wouldn't feel uncomfortable. His fingers gently brushed the exposed skin of her waist before pulling her blouse over her head, sliding it over her arms and torso, covering her skin little by little.
He chose not to put her bra on, knowing that the pressure of the garment would press against one of the most sensitive bruises on her ribs. It was a simple gesture, but so careful that it made Rebecca bite her lip, feeling even more frustrated.
She took a deep breath, her muscles tensing in an internal battle between reason and overwhelming desire. But it was useless.
Tension was building in her body like a storm about to break through the heavens, frustration and desire mixing in an uncontrollable whirlwind. The way Gregory touched her—with patience, control, and that almost cruel gentleness—only stirred something primitive inside her even more.
And then, when he finished dressing her and slid his hands in one last touch over her exposed shoulders, she broke.
Without hesitation, Rebecca grabbed Gregory by the collar and pulled him to her with brute force, their bodies pressing together without giving him a chance to resist. Her eyes were cloudy and she stared at him with an almost wild desire, a fire burning behind her blurred vision.
Her breathing was labored, each deep sigh exuding heat, her skin burning against Gregory's. She smelled him eagerly, panting and with her dry throat tightening as she swallowed the saliva that formed in her mouth in anticipation.
Gregory, in turn, didn't even try to push her away — not that he could. Even injured and worn out, she was still bigger, stronger and absurdly more resilient than him. Gregory knew that. He knew this kind of situation well. When Louise moved to intervene, he simply raised his hand, a calm and controlled gesture, stopping her.
His eyes remained calm, filled with the same patient affection as always, as if he already knew exactly what to do. Which in fact he did, since he had already been through this countless times with Monique.
Rebecca's wild gaze met his for a brief instant, an electric spark pulsing between them before she took his lips in hunger and desperation. Her mouth molded itself to his with a mixture of brutality and adoration, sucking and licking his lips until he gave in, allowing her hot, demanding tongue to enter.
"Mnnggg"
As soon as she invaded his mouth, a hoarse moan escaped her throat—the taste of his saliva was addictive, thick and absurdly sweet. Her body shivered at the intense flavor, as if an electric shock ran down her spine. That was the trigger.
Instincts devoured the last vestiges of rationality, reducing everything to a primitive, uncontrollable pulse. Rebecca pressed her body against his with an almost desperate force, her hands digging into his shoulders, fingers digging into his flesh as if to imprint her presence there. They slid down his chest with wild urgency, each touch an affirmation of possession, of need.
She wanted more than just to feel him—she wanted to mark him, to imprint herself on him, to make him hers in a way that transcended all logic. With a sudden, determined movement, she grabbed him and forced him to lie down against the cold floor of the hideout. The soft thud echoed in the silence of the place, but Rebecca barely noticed it.
His breathing was labored, almost hoarse, and his eyes shone with an intensity that mixed frustration and a desire so overwhelming that it seemed to consume her from the inside. Without hesitation, she mounted him, her firm thighs holding him in place with a strength that left no room for resistance.
Her hands explored his chest, feeling the rigidity of the muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt, until, in an impulsive and impatient gesture, her hands closed on the fabric and tore it easily, as if it were paper. The sound of the fabric giving way echoed in the air, followed by the heavy silence, broken only by Rebecca's intense, panting breath.
Without wasting a moment, Rebecca leaned forward, her lips finding Gregory's neck with a mixture of greed and devotion. Her tongue slid over the warm skin, exploring every curve, every pulse, as if she were savoring something precious.
She licked and sucked with an intensity that mixed hunger and possessiveness, leaving marks that spoke of a desire that could not be contained. His taste was salty, hot, intoxicating—a meal that she devoured greedily, as if it were the first and last time.
Her lips moved slowly but purposefully down to his shoulders, where she nibbled lightly before sucking firmly, as if to extract something that only he could give. Every movement was calculated, every touch charged with intention.
All the while, her hands held him still, her fingers pressing his wrists to the floor with a strength that left no doubt—he was hers, and she would not allow him to escape.