Lust System: Conquering the World Beauties

Liam’s hand slid around her waist and pulled her in.

There was no hesitation now. No doubt. No distance. Just her—pressed tightly against him, her breath mingling with his, her body warm in his arms. Lana moved with sudden energy, lifting her sweater over her head in one motion and tossing it aside without a care. It landed somewhere across the room. She melted into his embrace, her soft curves fitting perfectly against his frame as she leaned in again, lips crashing into his like she couldn’t get enough.

Liam didn’t fight it.

His body responded on instinct, arms gripping her tighter, feeling her chest against his, her hair falling around their faces like a curtain. His back gave in, collapsing softly into the mattress as he lay back, Lana following him down without breaking the kiss, her body resting above his, knees straddling him gently. Their lips stayed connected, mouths moving, breaths quickening.

It was fast. Wild. Almost desperate.

Too much.

Liam let out a low laugh between kisses, pulling back just slightly. "Take it easy," he said, his voice breathless, grinning. "You’re gonna break me."

Lana blinked, surprised at first—then smirked. Just a bit.

This time, he took the lead.

He kissed her again, slower now. Softer. More intentional. His lips moved with precision, savoring every second. His hand ran up her back, feeling the line of her spine, the warmth of her skin. Lana responded with a low hum, barely audible—just a soft sound of pleasure that slipped from her lips as she melted once more into the moment.

Time disappeared.

It was just the two of them, locked in their own little world. The kiss lingered—tender, deep, unhurried.

And when he finally let her go, she didn’t move far. Lana leaned into his chest, resting her head just above his heart, her arms wrapping around him tightly. She let out a soft sigh, content. Safe. Warm.

And just like that, she closed her eyes.

She fell asleep in his arms, holding him like she never wanted to let go.

Liam stayed awake for only a few more seconds, his fingers brushing her back slowly, his breathing slowing. His head sank into the pillow.

And he was out.

First try.

---

He woke up early.

The sun barely lit the edge of the curtains when he opened his eyes. The quiet hum of the room filled his ears. His body felt light. Steady. That slight sickness he had felt yesterday was gone, He felt like himself again.

Last night had been... unexpected.

It was supposed to be just a quiet day with Lana.

Instead, she’d pulled him into the kind of moment that burned itself into his memory.

But today wasn’t like yesterday.

Today, he had work to do.

He looked at her. Lana was still wrapped around him, her breathing soft and steady. One leg over his, her arm around his waist, her lips parted slightly in her sleep. She looked peaceful. Vulnerable. Beautiful.

Liam gently shifted her off him, careful not to wake her.

She moved only a little, murmured something under her breath, and settled again.

He got out of bed and walked into the bathroom.

Steam filled the room within minutes as the hot water ran down his back. The shower was quick. Focused. He needed to clear his mind, prepare himself. Jack wasn’t some random thug. He was clever. Paranoid. And now, according to Lilith, he had friends.

Or more specifically—a gang.

A big one.

The kind that made noise, drew attention, and played hard. And Jack had someone backing him—his uncle, Not a blood uncle. But someone close enough to protect him. Someone strong enough to hide him from the hunter looking to end his life.

Liam stepped out of the shower and dried off, muscles tense with anticipation. He dressed carefully, choosing the black combat-style outfit he’d packed. Black shirt, black pants, black gloves. He slid on the face cap last, pulling it down low. When he was done, he didn’t even look at himself in the mirror.

He already knew what he looked like.

A ghost in daylight.

He stepped back into the room, bag slung across one shoulder.

Lana was just starting to wake up.

She sat up slowly, her hair a tangled mess, her body still wrapped in the sheets. Her green eyes blinked open, soft and sleepy as they met his. "You’re up already?" she murmured.

Liam didn’t answer directly. He walked over, reached into his pocket, and tossed his black card onto the bed.

It landed beside her with a light tap.

He looked down at her. "I’ve got something to handle. Take the day off. Use that. Buy anything you want."

Lana glanced at the card, then up at him.

He didn’t wait for her to respond.

He turned around, picked up his bag, and left the room.

The hallway was quiet as he moved, his boots silent against the carpet. He took the elevator down, pressing the button with one gloved finger. As the doors closed and the cabin began to descend, he leaned against the wall, silent.

He pictured Jack’s face in his mind.

That smug look. That sharp tongue. That desperate grin he always wore when he thought he was safe.

Liam grinned to himself.

He hoped Jack had enjoyed the past few days.

Because today...

Today was going to be his last.

----

Liam crouched low on the rooftop, the cold biting into his skin through the thin fabric of his gloves. The wind was sharp, but he didn’t flinch. Snowflakes drifted lazily through the air, landing softly on the edges of his facecap and shoulders, melting slowly into the black of his outfit.

His breath came in light, controlled bursts as he lifted the binoculars tpo his eyes.

Seven men.

All stationed around the entrance below. They weren’t holding guns, not visibly—but Liam could see the outlines of weapons tucked discreetly into their coats. Short blades. Brass knuckles. All of them looked alert, their heads moving slightly, eyes sweeping the street, constantly scanning.

But that wasn’t what caught Liam’s attention.

It was their size.

He zoomed in closer.

These weren’t just regular thugs. Each one looked like a brick wall with legs—thick muscles bulging under heavy winter jackets, necks like tree trunks, faces rough and broken from years of fights. One of them had a scar running from his eyebrow all the way down to his jaw. Another had missing fingers. Their hands were massive, some tattooed, some wrapped in bandages. Every single one of them looked like they could kill a man with one swing.

Liam lowered the binoculars.

"This is it," he muttered.

Lilith’s intel had been precise. Jack was inside that building. Hiding. Sheltered. Guarded by people who didn’t play by the rules. This gang didn’t rely on firearms—they prided themselves on close-quarters brutality. Bone-breaking, blood-drenched, raw combat.

Liam hadn’t brought a gun either.

Why would he?

Guns weren’t the language these people spoke.

The air came out like steam. His fingers flexed in his gloves, tension building in his forearms.

He was outnumbered. Outmatched in size. They didn’t know he was here.

Yet.

To anyone else, the setup would’ve looked suicidal. A fortress of muscle, built to keep outsiders away. One wrong move, and he’d be crushed.

But to Liam?

This was foreplay.

He lived for this kind of thing. The impossible. The reckless. The brutal.

Only one thing ranked higher than a challenge like this.

His girls.

Everything else came after.

He stood, slowly, his boots pressing into the icy rooftop as he pulled the scarf higher around his face. His mind went silent. No more thoughts. Just instinct. Training. Focus.

He took one step back...

...then ran.

The edge came fast. The street below loomed far down, the wind roaring in his ears.

Liam leaped.

His body soared over the gap, boots crunching against the next rooftop with precision. He landed low, absorbed the impact, then kept moving. Like a shadow, he slipped down a fire escape, fast and fluid, until he was just above ground level, tucked behind the side of the building.

He could hear them now. The guards. One was laughing. Another was kicking snow, bored.