Lust System: I will Cuck Everyone

The steaming water ran over Rick’s shoulders as he stepped out of the glass shower in the Peninsula’s top-floor penthouse. Evening light cut across the city skyline, gold and sharp.

He towelled his hair and smirked at the memory of the morning. Victoria had left his office looking almost composed again, except for that brief kiss on the edge of his lips. The Ice Queen was still the Ice Queen — just a little less frozen than before.

Rick opened the system interface with a thought. Chef progress sat at twenty percent. Mischief Points had climbed nicely after the office encounter. The International Culinary Summit was coming fast. If he wanted the Peninsula to crush every other kitchen in the city, he needed better ingredients than the hotel’s standard stock.

He skipped the suits in the walk-in closet and pulled on a tight black t-shirt, a dark leather jacket, and fitted jeans. Then he took the private elevator straight down to the VIP garage.

The matte-black Ducati Superleggera V4 waited in slot A-01 like it had been built for trouble. Rick swung a leg over, turned the key, and the V4 roared to life, the sound bouncing off the concrete walls. He rolled up the ramp and tore into the evening traffic, weaving through cars without a second thought for speed limits.

Twenty minutes later he coasted into the luxury commercial district, looking for a coffee before he hit the high-end suppliers.

That plan lasted until he saw the commotion on the sidewalk outside an open-air café.

A tall blonde in a low-cut white top and tight denim shorts was trying to yank her arm free from a gel-haired trust-fund kid. She had a streaming gimbal in her other hand. The chat on her phone was scrolling so fast it was a blur.

"Let go of me, Brad!" the blonde woman demanded fiercely, as she desperately tried to yank her arm out of his iron grip, completely mindful of the fact that thousands of people were currently watching her live stream. "I told you we are completely done! I am working right now, so leave me alone!"

"Working?!" Brad sneered maliciously, letting out a loud, obnoxious laugh that reeked of pure arrogance, as his grip tightened painfully on her soft skin, completely refusing to accept her rejection.

"You call walking around the city with a camera and begging a bunch of poor losers for digital donations ’working’, Lexi?"

"You are nothing but a glorified digital beggar!" Brad shouted aggressively, entirely failing to care about the public scene he was causing, as he violently yanked her toward the open door of his silver Porsche.

"Stop embarrassing yourself and get in the fucking car! We are going to the VIP yacht party, and you are going to stand there and look pretty on my arm like you are supposed to!"

"I said no! You are hurting me, you psycho!" Lexi cried out, as she dug her high heels into the pavement, desperately trying to fight against his pulling force.

Meanwhile the live chat on her phone absolutely exploded with panicked viewers demanding someone call the police.

Rick idled the Ducati at the curb, watching. He was about to ride past when the system chimed.

Ding!

[Quest Triggered: The Critic’s Palate!]

[Target Identified: Lexi Sterling — Top-Tier Food Vlogger & Lead Judge of the Upcoming International Culinary Summit]

[Objective: Rescue the lead judge, secure her loyalty, and establish your presence before the summit]

[Rewards: +2000 Mischief Points, +5% Chef Occupation Progress, +15 Carnal Calibrator (Lexi)]

[Failure Penalty: Tastebuds permanently reduced to wet cardboard]

Rick’s grin widened.

So the girl with the camera was the woman who could publicly crown the Peninsula at the summit. The God of Mischief had a sense of humour.

He twisted the throttle. The Ducati’s roar drowned out Brad’s shouting and made half the café patio look up. Rick rolled the bike onto the curb, parked it inches from the Porsche’s bumper, and stepped off.

Brad took one look at the leather jacket and decided Rick was street trash.

"Mind your own business, biker. This is private. Take your toy and leave before I call the cops."

Rick stopped two feet away and looked at him like he was a buzzing insect.

"Take the Porsche and go," he said mildly. "You’re making a scene and you’re boring me."

Brad’s face went red. He let go of Lexi and threw a sloppy punch at Rick’s jaw.

Rick didn’t dodge. He caught the fist in one open palm with a loud smack. Brad’s eyes went wide as he tried to pull free and found his hand trapped.

"You’re too weak to shout that loud," Rick said, almost conversational.

He twisted.

CRACK.

Brad’s wrist snapped backward at an angle that made several people at the café gasp. He screamed. Rick followed with a short, brutal kick to the same-side kneecap. The joint folded the wrong way.

Brad collapsed into the gutter beside his own tire, howling, holding both ruined limbs.

The patio went dead quiet.

Lexi’s phone was still live. The chat exploded.

[OMG DID HE JUST SNAP HIS WRIST]

[THAT BIKER IS A MONSTER]

[BRAD GOT DROPPED IN THREE SECONDS]

[WHO IS THIS GUY HE’S HOT]

Rick wiped his hands on his jeans and turned to Lexi as if the screaming man on the ground was already forgotten.

Lexi stared at him, cheeks flushed, camera still rolling.

"You... you just broke his bones."

"He was annoying," Rick said. He nodded toward the idling Ducati. "You’re coming with me. Get on the bike."

Her brain clearly wanted to argue. Her body did not. She adjusted the gimbal, pointed it a little lower, and walked to the bike without another word. She hiked up the denim shorts and climbed onto the pillion seat, pale thighs settling against the carbon fibre.

Rick looked back over his shoulder, the cheeky edge back in his voice.

"Hold on tight, sweetheart. I don’t drive slow."

He twisted the throttle.

The Superleggera launched like a missile. Lexi shrieked and lunged forward, arms locking around his waist so she wouldn’t fly off the back.

Rick tore through the neon streets, weaving between cars at speeds that were definitely illegal. The wind ripped Lexi’s blonde hair around her face. The engine between her thighs rumbled so hard she could feel it in her bones.

He wasn’t just showing off.

At the first busy intersection he kept the speed until the last possible second, then slammed the carbon-ceramic brakes. The sudden stop threw Lexi flush against his back. Her chest mashed hard into the leather jacket. A loud, involuntary moan slipped out of her before she could stop it.

The thin white top did nothing to hide the way her nipples went tight in the cold air.

Rick chuckled, feeling the soft, heavy weight of her pressed against his spine, then accelerated again.

He repeated the trick at the next corner. And the one after that.

Each hard stop slammed her into him. Each acceleration made her tighten her arms around his waist. By the fourth time she had stopped pretending she was only holding on for balance. Her face was buried in his jacket, breathing fast, and the live mic was picking up every little sound she made.

The chat lost its mind.

[DID YOU HEAR THAT MOAN]

[SHE’S COMPLETELY LOSING IT ON THAT BIKE]

[HE’S KIDNAPPING OUR QUEEN AND SHE’S LOVING IT]

[BEST STREAM OF THE YEAR WHERE IS HE TAKING HER]

Rick took one more long stretch of road just to feel her cling tighter, then finally slowed and turned into the gated VIP garage of the Times Square luxury mall.

He parked in an empty, brightly lit slot and killed the engine. The sudden silence was almost shocking after the roar.

Lexi sat behind him for a few seconds, panting, chest rising and falling hard against the thin top. Her legs were unsteady when she finally climbed off. She tried to put her professional critic face back on and failed. Her eyes were hazy and her cheeks were burning.

Rick swung off the bike and stepped into her space, boxing her in against the Ducati’s side. He didn’t grab her. He just reached out and traced one finger slowly down her exposed collarbone, watching the shiver it caused.

"You survived the ride, Lexi," he said, voice low and clearly entertained. "Now let’s see if your palate is as sensitive as the rest of you."

Lexi swallowed, still holding the gimbal like she’d forgotten it was even on.

"Who... who are you?"

Rick’s smile was all mischief.

"Rick Smith. Head Chef at the Peninsula. And the man who’s going to cook something tonight that’ll ruin every other restaurant for you."

He tapped the edge of her phone lightly.

"You might want to tell your viewers you’re taking a private tasting."

Lexi’s mouth opened, then closed. The flush on her face deepened.

Rick stepped back just enough to give her room, then nodded toward the mall entrance.

"Come on, Judge. First stop is coffee. Then we talk about what a lead critic actually likes to eat when nobody’s watching the stream."

He started walking.

After a beat, Lexi followed, still a little unsteady on her heels, the live chat screaming behind her as the camera caught the way she kept glancing at his back.