Transmigrated Into The True Heiress-Chapter 47: Arousal *R*

Myra, trapped between fury and the effects of the drug, felt herself respond in ways she couldn’t control. Her hands gripped his shoulders as her anger melted into something darker, something primal. She clung to him, her nails digging into his skin, breaths coming in shallow pants as she ground against him, a moan escaping her lips as desire overtook all reasoning.

Alan’s hands moved swiftly, tearing at her dress with a sense of urgency. Because it was an off-the-shoulder, fitted piece, there was no bra underneath—just her bare skin and a thong. His fingers tangled in her hair, yanking her head back, exposing her throat and chest to him as his other hand reached up to cup one of her breasts. He squeezed firmly, pinching her nipple between his fingers, causing Myra to moan loudly, arching into his touch. His mouth found her nipple, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud before he sucked on it, sending a jolt of pleasure through her. Myra’s back arched off the bed, her fingers threading through his hair, pressing him closer.

"Ahhh! More, please! Give me more!" she gasped, her voice laced with desperation. She spread her legs, wrapping them tightly around Alan’s waist, her core pressing against his hardness, making him groan as he continued to suck, squeeze, and tease her nipple.

One of his hands slid from her breast, trailing down her torso until it reached the waistband of her thong. His fingers traced circles over the damp fabric, teasing her, and she whimpered, "Ahhh! Mmm! Just put it in already. I need you inside me. I feel so empty—I want you."

She unwrapped her legs, spreading them wider, inviting him in. Alan’s gaze traveled down her body, eyes darkened with lust as he knelt between her legs, taking in her disheveled, wanting form. "You look so damn beautiful, Myra," he murmured, tugging at her thong. "Take it off. I want to see you."

Without hesitation, Myra obeyed, hurriedly slipping off the delicate fabric and tossing it aside, leaving herself bare. She whimpered, her fingers trailing down toward her core, seeking relief. Alan’s eyes burned with intensity as he quickly shed his briefs, his hand stroking his own arousal as he watched her with an almost feral hunger. "Good. That’s my girl."

He gently moved her hand away, his fingers tracing along her slick heat before pressing down on her sensitive bud. Myra’s body jolted, and she moaned, "Ahhhh! Alan!"

Pushing her hips against his hand, she arched her back, head thrown back as one of his fingers slipped inside her. Alan’s thrusts were firm, relentless. He added another finger, then another, until he was working her with four, each stroke drawing soft, wet sounds as her arousal heightened. Myra’s moans grew louder, more desperate, her release approaching as her muscles tightened around him. With a scream, her climax overtook her, body shuddering as her essence spilled over his fingers.

Alan watched her come undone, his gaze filled with raw, unchecked hunger. Breathing heavily, he took her hand, guiding it to his length. "Look at how hard you make me," he rasped, voice thick with arousal. "I need to be inside you. Now."

Myra’s eyelids fluttered open, her lashes damp, eyes glazed with need as she looked up at him. "Please, Alan, please," she whimpered. "I need you... now."

"Shh," he whispered, gently lifting her legs onto his shoulders, positioning himself at her entrance. Leaning down, he kissed her deeply, his length pressing against her wet, aching thighs. "I’m going to give you exactly what you want, and I won’t hold back. I’m going to fuck you hard and fast. That’s what you want, isn’t it?"

"Yes, yes! I’d love that!" she moaned, her voice breaking. "I want it so badly. Please, don’t stop. Just... fuck me, hard and fast."

Alan guided himself into her, his other hand reaching up to knead her breast, his fingers pressing and squeezing in sync with each thrust. Myra gasped as he pushed in slowly, savoring every inch until he could no longer restrain himself. When he finally thrust fully, it was hard and deep, drawing a cry from her as her back arched off the bed. Without pause, he set a relentless rhythm, filling her with each powerful thrust.

"Ahh, Alan... you feel so good!" Myra moaned, watching him with hooded eyes. "Harder... I need more."

He smirked, keeping his movements controlled but intense. "Oh, now I feel good? What happened to earlier when you didn’t want me?" he taunted, his breath ragged. "Are you just saying this because I’m inside you?"

She shook her head, voice shaking. "No, it’s because you mentioned that bitch Ephyra. You’re mine. I hate that you even think about her!" Her words were venomous. "Ever since her accident, she’s different. Sometimes I want to strangle her, to watch the light fade from her eyes. I want to destroy her, make her suffer like I have."

Alan grinned darkly, brushing a kiss over her lips. "If you want her gone, have someone else do it. Don’t dirty your hands."

Myra’s nails scraped down his back as he increased his pace, her moans blending with his heavy breathing. "We tried that already. My mother hired someone from the black market, but somehow... somehow, that wench survived."

Alan chuckled, his voice a low rumble. "Maybe she just got lucky."

"Lucky," Myra hissed, rolling her hips to meet his thrusts. Alan shifted, his angle changing as he drove deeper, hitting a sensitive spot inside her that made her cry out, clenching around him.

Their movements turned frenzied, both of them chasing release. Myra’s moans grew desperate, and she was the first to fall over the edge, her climax shuddering through her body, more intense than the last. Alan followed shortly after, groaning deeply as he spilled into her, his body trembling with release.

They lay there, panting, as Alan pulled out and rolled to her side, drawing her close. He murmured into her hair, "This was just the beginning. I’m going to keep you busy all night."

And he did. Fueled by the drug, Alan stayed hard and insatiable, taking her over and over until the early morning hours. There would be side effects to using both drugs but it would be negligible.

••

At 3:44 a.m., Eira stepped out of the bathroom, in a large white shirt—it was Lyle’s, and picked up her phone. She opened a video from the previous night, watching with cold eyes as it showed Alan finishing with Myra in the shower, her body pressed against the tiles.

Satisfied that they were finally done, she spoke to her AI.

[Send this video to the first person who needs to see the video. Include a message instructing them to book a private room at the restaurant and send me the location by 1 p.m.]

[I’ll execute your instructions precisely, Master.]

Eira’s gaze returned to the screen, observing the figures still entangled in the bathroom. The drug would soon wear off, leaving them exhausted, with no memories of the night’s events. Lyle’s drugs were as effective as ever; not only were they undetectable, but they also ensured memory lapses.

Eira’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. Let the pieces fall into place.

The next morning, sunlight filtered in through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the tangled sheets and the two figures lying in the bed. Myra stirred, groaning softly as the weight of fatigue settled heavily in her limbs.

Myra stirred slightly, shifting her body to a more comfortable position, only to feel something pressing into her lower back. Confused and disoriented, she cracked her eyes open, but the sudden brightness of the sunlight forced her to close them immediately. Squinting, she opened her eyes once more, blinking against the light to find herself facing a window partially shielded by curtains. Her mind still hazy, she wondered what could have been poking her. Sliding her hand beneath the duvet, she felt her bare skin, realizing with a jolt that she wasn’t wearing anything.

Heart pounding, she moved her hand towards her lower back, where her fingers closed around something warm and firm. Just as she grasped it, a low groan sounded behind her. The sound alone sent a wave of panic through her as realization dawned. Her eyes flew open, and she shot upright in bed, whipping around to see Alan lying beside her, his eyes fluttering as he stirred awake. The sight of his bare skin, and the fact that her own body was unclothed, made everything click into place, sending a shock of horror through her.

She became acutely aware of a dull ache between her legs, one that further confirmed her fears. Her face paled, horror swiftly turning to rage and panic. Without a second thought, she raised her hands and started hitting Alan, her voice thick with fury and disgust.

"Wake up, you bastard! You lying, manipulative bastard!" she yelled, landing her fists against his bare chest. "You took advantage of me! How dare you! Wake up!"

Alan grunted, initially only murmuring in his sleep, but as her hits grew harder, he jolted awake, instinctively trying to shield himself as he sat up, dodging her blows. His attempts to escape her onslaught led him to stumble backward, finally landing on the floor with a thud.

"Hey! Hey! Stop! What’s going on? Why are you hitting me? Myra, stop!" he yelled back, bewildered and struggling to make sense of her what was happening.

"Oh, you want me to stop?" she spat, her voice sharp with accusation. "How dare you! You’ve been trying to get me to have sex with you for so long! Well, now you’ve finally gotten what you wanted, haven’t you? Are you happy now?" She hurled pillows, sheets—anything she could get her hands on—toward him, her expression twisted in anger and hurt.

Alan raised his hands in a defensive gesture, his face contorted in confusion. "What? Myra, what are you talking about?" He dodged a pillow as it flew at him. "Stop it! What are you even saying?"

"You don’t know?" Her voice cracked as she got up from the bed, standing in front of him with wild, furious eyes. "You’re seriously asking me? Can’t you see what happened? This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?"

He looked at her, genuinely taken aback, searching her face for answers. "Myra, I don’t understand. What are you saying?"

Myra clenched her fists, her voice thick with the betrayal she felt. "You got me drunk, Alan. You took advantage of me when I wasn’t even in my right mind. I can’t believe you’d do that to me. I hate you! I can’t stand the sight of you!" With one last, furious glare, she stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Alan remained frozen where he was, naked and stunned. His mind raced as he slowly looked around the room—the rumpled sheets, the pillow on the floor, and finally, his own unclothed body. Realization crept over him as he tried to piece together what had happened, his eyes widening as the weight of her accusations settled in.