"Jesus! Didn't expect a quiet-looking kid like you to be such a beast!"
Svafa's ice-blue eyes lit up with pure, filthy delight as her fingers squeezed the massive, throbbing bulge she'd just freed. She swallowed hard, throat working visibly, already imagining how that monster was going to stretch her.
Lawson felt heat rush to his face. As a hot-blooded young guy who'd kept his hands clean since crossing over, this sudden shift made him extremely uncomfortable. He was used to being the one in control, not feeling like some eager boy toy.
Plus, the Ironman Trump Card had supercharged everything—his stamina, his recovery, his sheer size. Right now, facing Svafa's hungry stare, he was rapidly losing the ability to resist.
"Ms. Svafa, don't! I'm a decent guy!"
But Svafa didn't want decent. She wanted the beast. The stunning bar owner leaned in close, pressing her massive G-cups against his chest, her sweet, whiskey-scented breath hot against his ear.
"But I'm not a decent girl, baby… and little Lawson, what exactly are you afraid of?"
That was the final straw.
She shifted back with a smug little smirk, somehow producing a cigarette from nowhere and lighting it with a flick of her lighter. She took a slow drag, looking every inch the rich sugar mommy who'd just used up her favorite toy—exhaled smoke curling around her swollen, spit-shiny lips while Lawson stood there, cock still rock-hard and glistening from her earlier teasing.
This… this isn't right, is it? He felt like a gigolo.
Lawson snatched the cigarette from her fingers and crushed it out on the desk. Before she could protest, he grabbed her chin roughly, tilting her face up to meet his burning gaze.
"Did I say we were done?"
Svafa's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. "Little Lawson, what do you—"
"I mean, you started this war," he growled, voice low and dangerous, Joker card thrumming in his veins, "but I decide when it ends."
He didn't give her time to answer.
Lawson spun her around and bent her over the desk in one smooth motion, kicking her legs apart. Her silk robe was already hanging open; he ripped it the rest of the way off, baring every perfect curve. He fisted her thick blonde hair, yanked her head back, and slammed into her soaked pussy in a single brutal thrust—burying all ten thick inches to the hilt.
"FUUUUUUCK—!" Svafa screamed, eyes rolling back, nails clawing the desk. Her walls clamped down like a velvet vice, fluttering wildly around his impossible girth. "Too big—oh my God you're splitting me open—yes, yes, harder, fuck me like you own this cunt!"
He did.
Lawson railed her like a man possessed—deep, savage, relentless strokes that made her massive tits slap against the desk and her ass ripple with every impact. The wet SLAP-SLAP-SLAP of skin on skin filled the office, mixed with her broken screams and the obscene squelch of her creamy pussy creaming all over his cock.
He reached around and rubbed her swollen clit in tight, brutal circles while pounding her cervix. Svafa came in under a minute—squirting hard, gushing down his balls and thighs, screaming his name so loud the walls shook.
He didn't stop. He flipped her onto her back, folded her legs over his shoulders, and folded her in half, driving even deeper. Her huge tits bounced wildly in his face; he latched onto one nipple, sucking and biting hard while he destroyed her.
Second orgasm hit her even harder—she squirted again, soaking his abs, voice cracking into hoarse sobs of pleasure.
"Lawson—please—I can't—too much—gonna break—ahhhhh fuck I'm cumming again—!"
He kept going.
He pulled out, spun her around, and made her ride him in the big leather chair—reverse cowgirl so he could watch her fat ass clap and bounce on his cock. He slapped her ass red, then reached around to pinch and twist her clit until she shattered a third time, milking him with rhythmic spasms.
Fourth round on the floor—her on all fours while he mounted her like an animal, one hand fisting her hair, the other spanking her ass in time with his punishing thrusts.
Fifth round against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist as he bounced her on his cock like a fleshlight, gravity helping him slam even deeper.
Sixth round he had her lying on the desk again, legs spread wide in a mating press, pounding so deep her belly bulged slightly with every thrust. Sweat poured off both of them. Her makeup was completely ruined, mascara running in black streaks down her cheeks, blonde hair a wild, sweaty mess, voice now completely gone—only broken whimpers and hoarse gasps left.
Svafa was a wrecked, cum-drenched mess—covered in bite marks, handprints, and thick ropes of his seed on her tits, stomach, and leaking in creamy rivers from her gaping, ruined pussy.
But thanks to Ironman, Lawson was still rock-hard and ready for more.
He finally let go on the seventh round, burying himself balls-deep and flooding her one last time with pulse after heavy pulse of thick, hot cum until it overflowed and dripped everywhere.
Svafa lay there completely destroyed—eyes glassy, body twitching, unable to even lift a finger.
Lawson smirked down at the once-dominant Nordic goddess he'd just turned into a quivering, cum-soaked wreck.
"Ms. Svafa, do you know the consequences of provoking me now?"
She could only whimper weakly, voice gone.
"Like I said… you started the war," he leaned down and kissed her swollen lips softly, "but I decide when it ends."
---
Next morning at dawn, Lawson put on his clothes, feeling completely refreshed.
Lawson felt like the whole world had become beautiful.
"Ms. Svafa, don't forget my intel!"
He gave her luxurious ass one firm, possessive smack. The only response was the stunning boss sleep-talking in a hoarse, broken whisper.
"Lawson… please let me rest…"
Shaking his head with a satisfied grin, Lawson kindly found a blanket and covered her to keep her from catching cold, then walked out of the office.
Back at the front bar, the bartender was still dozing at the counter. Lawson's appearance woke him up.
Making eye contact, Lawson felt a bit awkward.
After all, Svafa's Nordic war cries had been loud—everyone in the bar had probably heard them crystal clear.
But Lawson forgot this was America. Sex wasn't something you had to hide here. The bartender just gave him a big thumbs-up and a knowing grin.
"Uh, Ms. Svafa is asleep. Probably won't wake up anytime soon."
"Got it! I won't disturb boss's rest!"
"I'm heading out. See ya next time!"
Lawson hurried out of Sangiovese. A whole night of that intense exercise would have killed a normal man, but thanks to Ironman he felt like he'd just had a light workout.
He drove his Dodge Viper back to the apartment in a pleasant daze, quickly washed up, and fell right asleep.
He slept like the dead, having no idea how much time had passed.
Lawson was finally woken up by his phone ringing.
Looking outside, it was night again.
He checked the phone. It was already 8 PM—meaning he'd slept over ten hours straight.
Caller ID showed Donnie's number, which surprised him.
Because Donnie had previously told him he planned to take his wife, leave LA, and start a new life.
Lawson had assumed Donnie would never contact him again.
He answered the call.
"Hello, Lawson speaking."
"Lawson, I need your help!"