God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem

"Pity?" Kafka echoed, his voice gentler now, urging her to explain.

Camila exhaled slowly, her hands still resting against his chest, feeling the slow, steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips.

"Yes." she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I feel…pity for you."

Kafka opened his mouth, caught off guard by the mention of himself.

But before he could even question it, she smiled suddenly, a soft, genuine smile that carried a different kind of warmth—one filled with relief, gratitude, and something even deeper.

"But before I say anything about you, I'll tell you what I feel at the moment, Kafka, so that you stop worrying."

She continued, shaking her head slightly, her tone lighter now.

"I'm happy, Kafka. Really, truly happy."

She let out a breathless little chuckle, as if realizing it herself in real time.

"For the first time in so long…I feel free. I feel like I can breathe, like I'm not shackled to something that's been holding me down for years, after everything that's happened tonight."

She pulled back just slightly, just enough to look at him properly, to let him see the peace in her expression.

"Tonight, I finally feel like…I'm where I'm supposed to be."

Kafka searched her face, his usual teasing air completely gone, replaced with something softer, so much more real.

And he saw it...She wasn't lying.

There was no doubt in her eyes, no hesitation in her words.

She looked…content.

But then—

The light in her eyes dimmed.

Her gaze lowered slightly, the weight of something else settling in. And Kafka noticed immediately. He stayed silent, waiting, knowing she had more to say.

And after a long pause, she finally spoke.

"But…what I feel for you..." She said, her voice dropping lower now. "...is pity."

Kafka's brows furrowed slightly, but he didn't interrupt.

She swallowed, her fingers lightly gripping his shirt, like she was afraid of the words coming out of her own mouth.

"For so long, I kept you away." She admitted, her voice trembling slightly.

She let out a small, self-deprecating laugh, shaking her head.

"Even though you insisted…even though you wanted more…I still kept you at a distance. All because I told myself I had to hold on to something that didn't even exist anymore."

She clenched her jaw for a second before exhaling slowly.

"I thought I was doing the right thing." She whispered.

"I thought…I couldn't lose my faith in my vows. That no matter how I felt, no matter how much I wanted you, I had to be loyal to a promise I made years ago."

She finally looked up at him again, her eyes glistening, raw with emotion.

"But tonight…I realized something."

She took a shaky breath.

"That vow I was holding onto so desperately?"

Her lips curled bitterly.

"It was worthless."

She blinked quickly, pushing away the sting of emotion, trying to keep her voice steady.

"I was pushing you away for something that never even meant anything to him. And for what? For the sake of a marriage that was dead long before I accepted it?"

Her fingers tightened slightly against him.

"I hate it." She admitted.

"I hate that I kept you waiting for so long."

Her throat tightened, her voice quieter now, more vulnerable.

"I hate that I was always the one receiving happiness from you…while I pushed you away."

She shook her head, a deep, aching guilt settling in her chest.

"And what makes me feel even worse..." She murmured. "...is that you never argued with me about it."

She let out a breath, her lips pressing together.

"You never complained. You never made me feel bad about it. You just…waited."

Her voice cracked slightly, and she hated herself for it.

"You waited for me."

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head again.

"And you never asked for anything in return."

She finally looked at him again, her heart in her eyes.

"Who does that, Kafka?" She whispered, her voice breaking slightly.

"Who waits for someone like that? Who loves someone so much that they're willing to put their own happiness on hold—just because they're not ready yet?"
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Kafka…stayed silent.

He didn't smile. He didn't tease. He just watched her, his gaze steady, patient, like he was giving her all the time she needed.

And Camila...Camila swallowed hard, forcing herself to say the last thing weighing on her chest.

"The reason I've been so… aggressive tonight..." She admitted, her lips trembling slightly. "...isn't just because I can't contain my love for you anymore."

Her breath hastened as she painfully bit her lips.

"It's because I was scared."

Kafka's brows lifted slightly, but he didn't speak.

Camila forced herself to continue.

"I was scared that if I make you wait any longer…"

She swallowed.

"You'll lose interest in me."

Her fingers gripped his shirt tighter, her voice barely a whisper now.

"And that you'll move on from me."

A shudder ran through her body as she spoke those words out loud, as if she had just exposed her deepest, darkest fear.

As if she had just given him the power to break her completely.

And for a moment, silence hung between them.

A beat...A second.

Then, Kafka exhaled deeply, almost like he had been holding his breath this entire time.

And then smiled...A real, genuine, heart-melting smile.

And before Camila could react, he cupped her face gently, tilting her chin up just slightly, forcing her to look at him properly.

"Camila." He murmured in a tone that wasn't wasn't teasing, wasn't lighthearted, wasn't distant.

It was soft, steady, and unwavering.

"Do you really think..." He whispered. "...that I would ever stop loving you?"

Camila's eyes widened slightly, her breath catching in her throat. Kafka's thumbs grazed her cheeks, his touch so gentle, so careful.

"I've loved ever since the moment I met you." He continued, his voice like silk against her raw emotions.

"And because of my love for you, I've waited all this while."

His eyes softened, the warmth in them enough to melt her completely.

"And know that for the very same reason, the reason which is that I can't think of a day without you in my life, I'd wait for you for a hundred more..." He whispered. "...if that's what it takes."

Camila's heart stopped, her entire world stopping for a moment.

"So let me tell you I'm not going anywhere." Kafka murmured, his lips barely inches from hers.

"You don't have to rush. You don't have to prove anything to me. I'm already yours."

His fingers traced her jawline, his touch sending warmth through her entire body.

"And you, Camila?" He whispered.

His eyes searched hers, like he was trying to memorize every inch of her soul.

"You were always mine, so don't you think you can get away from me even if you wished to do so."

And in that moment, in that very moment—

Camila knew.

She had never loved anyone more.

And she never would ever again, no matter how many lives she may live.

Looking at the dreamy look Camila was gazing at him with like she had lost her soul in his gaze, Kafka let out a soft chuckle, the tension in the air shifting into something lighter, warmer, and undeniably playful. He then leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to that familiar teasing murmur that always sent shivers down Camila's spine.

"Well...." He said, tilting his head slightly, his lips curling into a mischievous grin. "...now that we've cleared everything up…should we continue where we left off and let you 'devour' me like you said or should I take charge and devour you instead?"

His tone was casual, easy, but the gleam in his eyes told a different story.

Camila blushed, the warmth rising to her cheeks faster than she could control.

But then, she quickly looked up at him, her gaze steady, filled with newfound resolve.

"No."

Kafka blinked, caught slightly off guard.

Camila took a slow breath, gathering her thoughts, before stepping closer, her soft fingers trailing up the collar of his shirt, gripping the fabric just lightly enough to hold his attention.

"This time." She murmured, her voice low but firm, "I'm going to be the one on the offense."

Kafka raised an eyebrow, his amusement deepening.

"Oh?" He drawled, intrigued by this sudden shift in control.

"I'm tired of you always pampering me." She continued, her eyes gleaming with determination. "You always take care of me, always make sure I feel safe, always put me first."

She paused, holding his gaze, her fingers lightly fisting his shirt, pulling him just a little closer.

"This time." She whispered, her lips barely inches from his. "I want to take care of you."

Kafka exhaled softly, a flicker of something fond, tender, and slightly caught off guard passing through his features.

"You do take care of me, Camila." He murmured, his hand brushing against hers, his thumb tracing over her knuckles.

But Camila simply shook her head, determination burning brighter in her eyes.

"Not like this." She corrected, her voice unwavering. "Tonight, I want you to just sit back and let me take care of you for once."

Kafka smirked, about to playfully protest, but—

The moment he opened his mouth, Camila's expression shifted.

Her eyes narrowed, sharp and ice-cold.

And just like that, Kakfa felt a shiver down his back.

He swallowed, his usual confident smirk faltering just a little.

"Well if you want to take charge, be my guest." He muttered, clearing his throat as he looked away for a second, feeling oddly cornered almost as if he were a hen pecked husband who couldn't disobey his wife.

Camila's lips curved into a slow, satisfied smile.

"Good boy." She murmured, her fingers lightly tracing the base of his throat before pulling away entirely, stepping back just enough to watch his reaction.

Camila then said nothing more, as her eyes slowly drifted down to Kafka's crotch where a prominent bulge had formed, undeniable in its presence.

She swallowed hard, her resolve steeling as she decided to take the lead.

With a mixture of anticipation and nervousness, she reached for his pants, undoing them with deliberate, almost reverent movements. As she pulled down his underwear, his cock sprang free, its size making her eyes widen in both awe and a touch of fear.

It was massive, perhaps as long as her forearm, standing erect and pulsing with life. Camila found herself momentarily lost in a daze, the reality of its size striking her like a physical force even though she had seen it many times before.

The thought of accommodating such a member was both exhilarating and terrifying. She couldn't help but wonder how her daughter had managed, a mix of pride and competitive jealousy stirring within her.

A warm, insistent heat also began to pool between her legs, her body responding to the sight before her with a primal urge. She felt a flush of desire, mixed with the daunting challenge of what she had just committed to.

Her gaze lingered, tracing the contours of his arousal, the veins, the way it seemed to beckon her closer.

And then without breaking her silence, Camila moved forward, her heart pounding with a cocktail of emotions—apprehension, desire, and an unexpected surge of empowerment, she was about to take charge in a way she never had before, and the sheer magnitude of the task in front of her only fueled her determination.

She would take care of Kafka, just as she had promised, in her own way, on her own terms and send him to heaven tonight...