Harem System: Spending Money On Women For 100% Rebate! - Chapter 340 - 340: Trapped Like A Mouse [18+]

Kyle stood frozen in the opulent dining room, the pen pressed firmly against Cleopatra’s throat, his arm locked around her waist like a vice. The guards hovered at the threshold, their pistols half-drawn, eyes darting between him and their boss. The red dot from the sniper’s laser sight danced steadily on his forehead, a silent promise of instant death. His heart hammered in his chest, but he held his ground, breath ragged.

“Back off,” he growled again, his voice echoing off the marble walls. “I mean it.”

Cleopatra, pinned against him, didn’t flinch. Her body remained relaxed in his grip, her damp hair brushing his cheek, that fresh shower scent—citrus and clean skin—wafting up like a taunt. She tilted her head ever so slightly, as if the makeshift weapon at her neck was nothing more than a mild inconvenience because she could easily take care of Kyle if she really wanted to.

Then, with a subtle smirk curling her lips, she raised one hand in a slow, deliberate gesture.

“Lower your weapons,” she commanded, her voice smooth and unhurried. The guards hesitated for a split second, confusion flickering in their eyes, but they obeyed, holstering their guns with mechanical precision.

“Now leave us,” she added, waving them off like dismissing servants at a dinner party as this was to remind Kyle she had the power to take his life if she wishes.

The men filed out without a word, the door clicking shut behind them, sealing the room in tense silence. Kyle’s grip loosened just a fraction in surprise—why back down? She had him dead to rights; a single shot from that sniper would end it. The red dot vanished from his skin, as if on cue. He exhaled sharply, relief flooding him for a brief moment. She needed him alive—that much was clear. Maybe for leverage against Marcello, or some twisted game only she understood. His mind raced: escape routes, distractions, anything to turn the tables.

But in the blink of an eye, everything flipped. Cleopatra moved like liquid lightning—her head snapped back with brutal force, the crown of her skull slamming into his nose in a sickening crunch. Pain exploded across his face, stars bursting in his vision as blood trickled warm down his lip. He recoiled instinctively, staggering back a step, his hold on her breaking.

Before he could recover, she twisted in his grasp, her hand shooting out to seize his wrist in a ironclad lock. With a fluid yank, she wrenched his arm behind his back, using his momentum against him. She drove forward, slamming his chest into the table’s edge, then pressed down hard, forcing his cheek flat against the cool wood. The pen clattered to the floor.

Kyle gasped, shock ripping through him. How was she this strong? She’d been formidable in their scuffle at the mansion, but this was different—sharper, more precise, like she’d honed her edge in the dark since then or she wasn’t taking him seriously.

Her body pinned him from behind, one knee digging into his thigh for leverage, her free hand gripping the back of his neck to keep his head locked in place. He struggled, muscles straining, but she held firm, not through raw power alone but skill—leverage points exploited, joints twisted just enough to immobilize without breaking.

“Got you,” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear, voice laced with something dark and thrilled. Kyle’s skin crawled; she wasn’t angry or threatened—she was aroused. The press of her body against his back shifted subtly, her hips grinding in a slow, deliberate circle, rubbing against him with intent. He felt the heat of her through their clothes, her robe slipping open just enough to tease bare skin.

“Mmm, feel that? Even when you’re soft… you’re impressive.” Her free hand trailed down his side, bold and uninvited, cupping his crotch through his pants. She squeezed gently, smirking at the size even flaccid. Kyle tensed, a mix of revulsion and unwanted heat surging through him—this was wrong, twisted.

He bucked hard, trying to throw her off, but she anticipated it, twisting his arm higher until pain shot through his shoulder.

“Shocked? I’ve trained for this life,” she murmured, her lips brushing his earlobe.

“Stronger now. And you… you’re turning me on with all this resistance.” She bit her lip, eyes gleaming with hunger. Beautiful, resourceful, untouchable—Cleopatra could have any man with a snap of her fingers, her wealth buying loyalty or lust. But she craved the chase, the ones who resisted, who she couldn’t own outright. Standing behind him, arm yanked painfully, head pinned, she slid her hand bolder now—unzippering his pants, fingers delving in to wrap around his cock.

“Is this the monster you put in my sister?” she purred, stroking slow, her grip firm and teasing.

Kyle’s mind reeled, shock turning to fury. What the hell was wrong with her? He was trapped, fighting for escape, and she was groping him without consent? All he could think was survival—doors, guards, that sniper—but her touch invaded, unwanted and perverse. She loved the struggle, her breath quickening as he twisted. This woman was broken, fucked up beyond repair. If he gave in, even a little, he’d never face Ella again—betraying the trust they’d built in that sweat-soaked bed.

With a surge of adrenaline, he finally broke free—elbow jabbing back into her ribs, using the table for leverage to shove her off. He jumped away, zipping up fast, putting the table between them. Chest heaving, he glared at her.

Cleopatra straightened, robe disheveled but smile intact—disgusting, triumphant. She raised her hand to her mouth, licking her fingers slow, eyes locked on his.

“Delicious,” she murmured, savoring the taste like victory.

Kyle’s stomach turned. In that instant, regret crashed over him—he’d walked into the spider’s web, and now the threads tightened. Coming here was his biggest mistake yet.

“Don’t worry, Kyle. I won’t let her kill you. You have my word but you have to go,” Cleopatra reassured him, taking a sip of the wine on the table.