God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem - Chapter 619

Chapter 619: God’s Favorite Child
The kitchen glowed with the soft, golden light of late afternoon, the air rich with the scent of simmering herbs and freshly chopped vegetables. Kafka stood at the counter, a knife in hand, methodically slicing carrots, though his focus wavered.

His eyes kept drifting to the hallway, where his mother buzzed about like a hummingbird, her movements quick and brimming with nervous excitement. She was a whirlwind of energy, flitting from one corner of the house to another, checking every detail with meticulous care.

She rearranged the ornaments in living room for what Kafka was certain was the fifth time, nudged a vase on the side table a fraction of an inch, and ran a cloth over already spotless surfaces.

Her face was alight with a giddy smile, her eyes sparkling with a joy so pure it seemed to fill the entire house. It was clear she was preparing for someone whose arrival meant the world to her, someone she’d been yearning to see for far too long.

Abigaille then paused in the living room, hands on her hips as she surveyed her work.

“Perfect…”

She murmured, though she immediately darted to a picture frame, tilting it ever so slightly to the left and her laughter, soft and melodic, echoed through the house, making it obvious about the anticipation bubbling inside her.

Kafka, watching from the kitchen, couldn’t suppress a fond chuckle. He set the knife down, wiping his hands on a towel as he leaned against the counter.

“Mom…” He called, his voice warm with intrigue. “I get that you’re over the moon—Mom’s coming home today, huge deal…But do you really need to fluff those pillows again? That’s gotta be the ninth time you’re doing so.”

“…You’re making me tired just looking at you, and I’m the one making dinner here.”

Abigaille spun around, her smile radiant, and clapped her hands together with a delighted squeal.

“Oh, Kafi, I can’t help it!” She exclaimed, practically bouncing as she hurried into the kitchen. “After all this time, Olivia’s finally coming back home! Do you know how long I’ve been dreaming of this?”

She leaned against the counter beside him, her eyes shining with emotion.

“When we first came to this town a year ago, we said this was it—this was where we’d settle, where we’d spend the rest of our lives. Just the three of us, together, happy…And now it’s happening! Olivia’s coming home, and we’re going to live here, all of us, just like we planned.”

“…I’m so excited I could burst!”

Her joy was infectious, and she couldn’t contain it. She began to hop from foot to foot, her body swaying as she broke into a little dance, humming a cheerful tune under her breath.

Her skirt swished with each movement, her laughter filling the kitchen as she spun in a playful circle, her excitement making her look years younger.

Kafka’s lips curved into a soft smile, his heart warming at the sight of his mother so unabashedly happy. It was a precious moment, seeing her so free, and it made the house feel like a true home, a sanctuary of love and light.

But as Abigaille danced, her enthusiasm carried her perilously close to the stove, where a pan sizzled, and the counter, strewn with knives and cutting boards.

And seeing this, Kafka’s smile faltered, a flicker of worry crossing his face. She was twirling now, oblivious to the dangers around her, and he could already imagine her tripping over a knife or brushing against the hot burner.

So, before she could spin again, he moved swiftly, stepping behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her gently but firmly against him.

Her back pressed into his chest, her body trapped between him and the counter, his hands resting lightly on her hips as he picked up the knife and resumed chopping vegetables over her shoulder.

Abigaille froze, caught off guard by the sudden closeness. She then tilted her head back, her eyes meeting his with curiosity.

“Kafi, what in the world are you doing?”

She asked, her voice playful but tinged with confusion, while her soft curves pressed against him, her ass warm and snug against his crotch, the intimacy of their position sending a subtle thrill through her, though she didn’t pull away.

Kafka’s voice was low, teasing, as he leaned down, his breath warm against her ear.

“You’re having way too much fun dancing around like that, Mom. This kitchen’s a death trap—knives, fire, and that hot pan full of oil on the stove and I’m not about to let you twirl your way into a disaster right before Mom gets home.”

“…What kind of welcome would that be, sending you to the ER right as she comes home? So, you’re staying right here, safe and sound, until you calm down a bit.”

Abigaille laughed, a rich, hearty sound that vibrated through her body.

“Oh, Kafi, you’re being ridiculous.” She said, her smile widening as she looked back at him. “You think a little thing like this is going to stop me? I’m too excited! Olivia’s coming home, and I could dance all day!”

To prove her point, she began to wiggle in his arms, her body swaying in an attempt to continue her dance. Her movements were cute, almost comical, as she shook her hips and twisted playfully, humming her little song.

But the effect was anything but innocent.

Her ass, pressed firmly against Kafka’s crotch, moved in slow, sultry circles, the friction warm and tantalizing. Each wiggle was a soft, teasing grind, her curves sliding against him in a way that felt less like a dance and more like an unintentional lap dance.

The fabric of her skirt brushed against his pants, her body warm and soft in his arms, and Kafka felt a heat stirring down under, his grip on her hips tightening slightly to steady himself.

And unable to hold back, he leaned down again, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered with a bit of amusement and something deeper.

“Mom, are you sure you’re just dancing?…Because it’s starting to feel like you’re trying to seduce your son.”

Abigaille stilled, her body pausing as his words sank in.

For a moment, she blinked, her mind catching up to the reality of her movements—the way her ass had been grinding against him, the intimate press of their bodies.

A flush crept up her cheeks, her eyes widening as she turned her head to look at him, her expression a full of embarrassment and flustered excitement.

“N-No way, Kafi!” She stammered, her voice higher than usual. “I was just…just having fun! I didn’t mean to…oh, goodness, I wasn’t trying to do that!”

Kafka chuckled, the sound low and warm, his lips curving into a teasing smile.

“Sure you weren’t.” He said, his tone dripping with playful skepticism. “Having fun at my expense, huh?”

Before she could protest further, he dipped his head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the side of her neck, just below her ear.

“Peck!♡~ Peck!♡~ Mmm!♡~ Peck!♡~ Lick!♡~”

His lips lingered on her neck, the soft, warm press of his mouth sending a cascade of shivers down her spine. Each kiss was tender, a slow, sensual act of love that traced the delicate curve just below her ear, where her pulse fluttered like a trapped bird.

“Pucker!♡~ Pucker!♡~ Smooch!♡~ Pucker!♡~ Suck!♡~”

His breath was hot against her skin, a teasing contrast to the cool air of the kitchen, and the faint scrape of his stubble added a delicious edge to the sensation.

“Mmm!♡~ Mmm!♡~ Kiss!♡~ Mmm!♡~ Slurp!♡~”

Abigaille’s heart raced, her body instinctively leaning Into his touch, though a small voice in her mind whispered that she should push him away, should scold him for being so bold with his mother.

But the warmth of his lips, the way they moved with such tender precision, was too intoxicating, too perfect. She let herself melt into it, her resistance dissolving as she surrendered to the forbidden thrill of his affection.

“Kiss!♡~ Kiss!♡~ Mwah!♡~ Kiss!♡~ Nibble!♡~”

His hands, strong and sure, also slipped beneath the hem of her dress, the fabric sliding up her waist with a whisper of cotton against skin, while his fingers found her soft, plush tummy, the gentle curve that spoke of comfort and warmth, and he caressed it with a reverence that made her heart race.

“Stroke!♡~ Rub!♡~ Slide!♡~ Glide!♡~ Press!♡

His touch was slow, almost worshipful, as he traced lazy circles around her navel, his fingertips dipping into the sensitive hollow with a teasing, intimate pressure. Her skin tingled under his exploration, each stroke igniting a spark that spread through her core, her body growing warmer, more tender, as she pressed herself closer to him.

“Swipe!♡~ Brush!♡~ Slip!♡~ Slick!♡ Swirl!♡~”

The contrast of his rough palms against her silky flesh was uncontrollable, a silent promise of more, and she felt a flush creeping up her chest, her breath coming in shallow, needy gasps.

And wanting to distract herself from what was happening, she said while controlling her moans, “…K-Kafi, about what you said that night? ”

Kafka’s lips then moved higher, brushing the sensitive shell of her ear as he whispered, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her.

“What did you mean, Mom? About what I said that night?” His kisses continued, a trail of heat along her neck, each one deeper, as if he were savoring the taste of her skin.

Abigaille’s breath came in shallow pants, her body alight with the heat of his touch, the press of his lips, the hard length of him against her ass. She struggled to form words, her mind clouded by the sensations overwhelming her.

“You…You said that night.” She gasped, her voice thick with need. “That everything would work out. That fate was on our side, that by morning it’d all be fine. And…oh, Kafi, it happened.”

“That man, the one bothering us, he got caught in some tax evasion mess. Him and his sons, they fled, left their whole business behind. The police are after them, and they’re gone…Olivia’s also free now—she sold the business, and she’s coming home, just like you said.”

Her words spilled out in a rush, punctuated by soft moans as Kafka’s fingers circled her navel, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through her. She turned her head, her blue eyes catching the sight of his hand under her dress, the way his finger moved in and out of her navel, slow and teasing, like a lover’s caress.

His lips found her earlobe, sucking it gently, and she whimpered, her body pressing tighter against him, her ass grinding in slow, needy circles.

“How…How did you know, Kafi?” She whispered, her voice trembling with both curiosity and the throbbing ache between her thighs. “How’d you know it’d all work out?”

Kafka chuckled, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke, his breath hot against her skin.

“Why?…Because you’re God’s favorite child, Mom. I knew the heavens wouldn’t let anything happen to his sweetest daughter.”

His hand spreas across her tummy, fingers spreading wide to claim every inch of her soft, warm skin, while his other hand slid up to cup her face, tilting it toward him.

Abigaille’s pulse raced, her body humming with desire as his words wrapped around her like a caress.

“God’s favorite child?” She asked, her voice playful but edged with a needy whine, her hips shifting to press her ass harder against him. “How am I that, Kafi? How do you know?”

His lips hovered over her neck, his breath a warm tease as he spoke, his voice low and reverent.

“Because you’re an angel, Mom. Your face—God, it’s perfection. Those blue eyes, so bright they pull me in like a tide. Your smooth brown skin, soft as silk, glowing like it’s kissed by the sun. And those pink lips…”

His thumb brushed her lower lip, tugging it gently, making her gasp.

“…So sweet, so tempting, I can’t stop thinking about them. You’re a vision, Mom, like you fell straight from heaven and sometimes I just wonder if you’re even real, or if you’re an angel who got lost down here.”

His words set her alight, each one a spark that fanned the flames of her arousal. Abigaille’s cheeks burned, her heart swelling with a dizzying burst of love and lust.

To hear her Kafi praise her so openly, to feel his hands worship her body, his lips claim her skin—it was a bliss so profound it left her trembling.

Her excitement, already sky-high from Olivia’s return, spilled over into a bold, cheeky impulse. She turned her head, her eyes locking onto his, sparkling with mischief and desire.

“Well, Kafi.” She purred, her voice a sultry whisper. “If I’m an angel who fell from heaven, don’t I deserve a kiss? I’ve been so lonely down here, you know. Even an angel needs love…even if it’s from her own son, her sweet, beloved Kafi.”

Kafka’s eyes flashed with hunger, a primal spark that made her breath catch. He didn’t hesitate, his hand on her jaw guiding her face to his as his lips crashed against hers.

“Mwah!♡~ Mwah!♡~ Pucker!♡~ Mwah!♡~ Suck!♡~”

The kiss was fire, a searing, desperate clash of tongues and teeth, their mouths moving in a frantic, needy manner. His tongue plunged into her, tasting her deeply, the wet slide of it against hers sending shudders through her body.

Saliva glistened on their lips, dripping down her chin as she moaned into his mouth, her body arching to press every curve against him.

Her ass ground harder against his crotch, feeling the thick, pulsing heat of him through his jeans, and she whimpered, her lower half throbbing with a need she couldn’t deny…