Lust System: I will Cuck Everyone

"Give that back!"

Lexi shrieked hysterically, as her beautiful face instantly turned a violent, overwhelming shade of crimson red, completely terrified that her most shameful, degenerate secrets were entirely exposed to the exact man she desperately wanted to submit to.

She frantically lunged forward with her bare arms outstretched, completely abandoning all her professional dignity as the lead judge of the International Culinary Summit, because she desperately wanted to snatch the buzzing pink vibrator directly out of Rick’s large hand.

Lexi lunged.

The towel slipped. Rick stepped aside like she was moving through water. She missed the buzzing pink toy by a full arm’s length and had to snatch the terrycloth before it hit the floor. The knot had already given up. For half a second the bedroom lights caught the full curve of her chest before she yanked the towel back to her collarbone.

She was scarlet from the throat up. Breathing hard. Barefoot. Dripping.

"It is not what it looks like."

Rick turned the vibe off with his thumb and raised an eyebrow.

"That’s usually what people say when it is exactly what it looks like."

"They’re gag gifts," Lexi said too fast. "Fans send stupid stuff to the PO box. Cosplay. Jokes. I didn’t know what to do with it so I shoved it in the bottom drawer."

Rick laughed. Not mean. Just delighted.

"Gag gifts." He tossed the toy onto the bed. It bounced once against her pillows and lay there like evidence. "A fully charged one, sitting next to a nurse outfit thin enough to read a menu through. That’s not a PO box problem, Judge. That’s a collection."

Lexi looked at the floor. Her thighs pressed together under the towel.

"You weren’t supposed to see that."

"You left me alone in a bedroom with a locked drawer and a bad lock." Rick leaned against the dresser, still smiling. "What did you think was going to happen?"

"I thought you were looking for a towel."

"I was. Then I found a better story."

He turned back to the broken drawer and lifted items one by one like he was taking inventory.

The schoolgirl skirt came first. Tiny. Pleated. Ridiculous.

"Educational," Rick said.

"Put that down."

The cat suit was next. Black leather. A little whip coiled beside it.

"And this one is for when the reviews go badly."

"Rick."

Then the nurse top. Still creased from the package.

"Unused. Interesting. So the pink one is the only thing in here that’s actually seen action." He glanced at the bed where the toy had landed. "You have a favourite. Just say it."

Lexi didn’t say it. She didn’t have to. Her face already had.

Rick set the costumes back without folding them and came up with something worse: the thinnest pair of black yoga pants in the pile and a sports bra that had clearly never been designed for her chest.

He held them up between two fingers.

"You ate my sliders in my kitchen," he said, easy and light. "I don’t cook midnight Wagyu for free. Time to settle up."

He tossed the clothes at her feet.

Lexi stared at them like they might bite.

"Rick. Those are see-through. You will see everything."

"That’s the point." He picked up the glass of water from her nightstand and sat back against her pillows like he paid the lease. "Put them on. Or I help. And I am not as neat as you are."

She closed her eyes for a second.

"Turn around."

"No."

The word was simple. Not cruel. Just final.

"Rick, I am standing here in a towel."

"I noticed. That’s why the towel has to go."

Lexi swallowed, turned her back anyway, and let it drop.

Rick didn’t make a sound. He just watched. Wide hips. Thick pale thighs. The long line of her back still damp from the shower. She stepped into the yoga pants and had to wriggle to get them over her ass. The fabric stretched so thin the black lace thong underneath printed itself against the lights. The sports bra was a lost cause. She fought it on. It shoved everything up and still lost the fight.

She turned around with her arms crossed over her stomach, face burning.

Rick’s smile was slow.

"There she is. Summit judge. Professional. Very serious person."

"I hate you."

"You don’t." He pointed at the open floor between the bed and the wardrobe. "Stand there."

Lexi shuffled to the centre of the room. The pants left nothing. Every step made it worse. She tried to tug the bra down. It refused.

"If anyone from the summit saw this—"

"They won’t. Unless you start the stream again." Rick took a sip of water. "Twenty deep squats. All the way down. Ass to calves. If you cheat a single one, we start over. I’ll count."

"Squats." Her voice cracked. "In this."

"You wanted to pay for dinner. This is the bill." He raised one finger. "One."

Lexi put her hands behind her head. She descended.

The pants went transparent at the bottom of the movement. The thong cut a dark line between her cheeks. The sports bra gave up another inch. She came back up breathing through her nose, already pink.

"Two."

She dropped again. Slower this time, like she thought going slow would make it less obvious.

"You’re staring," she muttered.

"I am paying very close attention to your form," Rick said. "Three."

"Form."

"Knees out. Chest up. You’re doing it wrong on purpose."

"I am not doing it wrong on purpose."

"Then you’re doing it wrong by accident. Four."

By five there was a sheen of sweat on her collarbone. By six her thighs had started to tremble. By seven the sound she made at the bottom had nothing to do with lactic acid.

"You can breathe, you know," Rick said. "I’m not grading the silence."

"If I breathe too loud you’ll make a comment."

"I’m going to make a comment anyway. That was eight. I’m being generous."

"Rick."

"Nine. Lower. There. That’s the one."

She dropped. The pants clung. The bra lost another millimetre. Rick took another sip of water and watched her come back up like he had all night.

"Ten. Halfway. You’re doing better than I expected."

"That is not a compliment."

"It is from where I’m sitting."

Lexi shot him a look that would have ended most dates. Rick only smiled wider.

"You’re wet," he said, not unkindly. "The pants are honest even when you’re not."

"I will walk out of this room."

"You won’t. Eleven."

She cut it short. He noticed immediately.

"Lower. You cheated."

"I did not—"

"You did. All the way down, Lexi. Ass to calves or we start at one."

She glared at him. Then she went all the way down. The sound she made this time was not professional. It was wet and frustrated and hungry. Rick counted through it like a man enjoying a very expensive show.

"Twelve. Good. Thirteen. Keep your hands where they are."

"They’re going numb."

"They’re fine. Fourteen."

The pants were damp now. Sweat made the black fabric even worse. Lexi’s arms stayed behind her head because putting them down would have felt like a different kind of surrender.

"Fifteen. You’re shaking."

"Because you’re watching me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you’re deciding whether to let me finish or make me start over."

Rick’s grin widened.

"Sixteen. Good guess."

"You are enjoying this too much."

"I already admitted that. Tell me something else. When you use the pink one, do you think about the sliders or the alley?"

Lexi almost fell.

"That is not a squat question."

"It’s a related question. Seventeen."

Her thighs burned. A drop of water from her wet hair ran down between her breasts and disappeared into the ruined sports bra. She caught Rick looking at it and almost lost her balance.

"Eyes forward, Judge."

"You’re one to talk."

"I’m not the one doing squats in see-through pants. Eighteen."

She dropped into the eighteenth squat, spine arched, breath broken, ass sitting on her calves—

And the front door clicked.

A sharp metallic sound. Keys. The lock turning.

Lexi froze at the bottom of the squat, eyes huge, all the colour draining out of her face.

Rick sat up a little on the bed, still holding the water glass, still smiling.

Someone was in the hallway.

Someone who had a key to Lexi Sterling’s penthouse.

Lexi tried to stand and her legs almost didn’t make it. She hissed his name.

"Rick—"

Footsteps. Soft. Coming closer. A bag set down. The cooler lid being tapped once, curious.

Rick set the glass on the nightstand, unhurried, and looked toward the bedroom door like this was the most entertaining dinner bill he had ever collected.

"Nineteen and twenty might have to wait," he said quietly.

Out in the hall, a woman’s voice called out. Familiar. Bright. Completely unaware.

"Lexi? Why is there a cooler in the kitchen? And whose jacket is this?"

Lexi made a sound that was halfway between a gasp and a prayer.

Rick’s smile didn’t change.

Whoever had just walked into the penthouse was about to get a very clear answer.