CHAPTER 150: THE MIDNIGHT BLOOM - 6

The woman below him whimpered faintly, her body trembling as Lor slowly slipped free from her soaked pussy, the wet, obscene sound echoing in the silk-draped alcove.

His cum oozed from between her thighs in lazy, glistening streaks, trailing over her swollen lips, dripping down her inner thighs, soaking into the cushioned bench beneath.

She lay folded over the bench, panting, spent but smiling, her face glowing beneath the gold serpent mask, her full breasts heaving with each ragged breath.

Lor took a step back, breathing heavily, his cock slick and twitching, still hard despite the intensity, pre-cum glistening at the tip.

The magic in the air buzzed faintly, soaking into his skin, feeding his nerves with a hum that outshone the mana-light.

He adjusted his velvet robe just enough to let it hang open—no shame, no pretense, his lean chest glistening with sweat, his cock throbbing against the silk lining.

He belonged here now, inside the Marble Sanctuary, where every body was fuckable, every moan a spell.

A light laugh, soft and amused, rang out from behind the curtain, silk rustling as someone stepped in.

"Well well," the voice purred, smooth and playful, dripping with curiosity. "You two look like you’ve had some fun."

Lor turned, and his breath stopped.

She walked through the parted curtain like a vision from a wet dream, her full hips swaying under the tightest black garter belt, lace hugging the plush swell of her thighs like a lover’s grip, accentuating every curve.

Sheer stockings shimmered on her toned legs, high heels clicking softly against the marble, each step a pulse of raw allure.

Her panties—if they could be called that—were mere strings, barely covering her glistening pussy, the lips faintly visible through the lace.

Her bra framed her full breasts like art, open cups with criss-crossing straps that teased her pale pink nipples, hard and begging for touch, her breasts jiggling gently with each step, unashamed, amused, hungry.

Her mask—sleek, catlike, mirrored onyx—made her plush, wine-red lips stand out, curled into a wicked smile.

She approached like she owned the room, her presence commanding, her scent—warm, floral, faintly sweet—flooding Lor’s senses, making his cock twitch harder.

She turned her head slightly, the mana-light catching her skin.

Freckles dusted her bare shoulders in a pattern Lor had memorized without knowing he had.

Red curls, long, wild, thick—the same shade as Lia’s.

He blinked once.

Twice.

She faced him fully now, her eyes glinting behind the mask as she looked him up and down, her gaze lingering on his lean chest, his slick cock, still glistening with another woman’s juices and his own cum.

"Mm. You’re young," she said, biting her lip, her voice low and teasing. "Tight. Strong. A little too composed, though. Makes me wonder what you’re hiding."

Lor couldn’t speak, his hazel eyes wide behind the mask, his cock throbbing painfully as her curves brushed his arm, her scent hitting him like a memory.

No fucking way.

Lia’s mother.

She ran a finger down his chest, nails lightly grazing his skin, teasing the lean muscle, sending a jolt through him.

"You’re not like the others," she murmured, her finger trailing lower, brushing the wetness still coating his cock, her touch making him twitch.

She smirked, her wine-red lips glistening. "You let your work speak for you."

The woman he’d just fucked moaned faintly from the bench, her thighs still spread, her pussy leaking his cum in lazy drips, glistening in the candlelight.

The redhead looked down, chuckled softly, her breasts swaying faintly. "Looks like you’ve got stamina. Good."

Then she knelt, right there, without hesitation, her full breasts bouncing as she tugged at his cock, her tongue sliding along the shaft—long, slow, teasing, licking up a streak of cum near the base, her eyes fluttering shut in exaggerated satisfaction.

Lor’s breath hitched, his cock pulsing back to full hardness, pre-cum dripping as she tasted him.

"Fuck..." he whispered, his hazel eyes fluttering, his lean frame tensing.

She smiled, her wine-red lips curling. "You taste like someone else’s pussy."

Then she opened her mouth wide, lips wrapping around his cock, sucking him with filthy precision, her cheeks hollowing as she bobbed her head, slow but deep, letting spit run down her chin, stroking him with both hands as she fucked her throat around him.

She wasn’t just good—she was practiced, enthusiastic, hungry, her tongue swirling around the head, her lips stretching to take him deeper, the wet sounds echoing in the alcove, mingling with the muffled moans from the Gallery beyond.

Lor’s head tilted back, a groan escaping as his hips twitched against her mouth, his cock throbbing painfully, his hands gripping the bench behind him.

This is Lia’s fucking mother.

She pulled off with a wet gasp, a strand of spit connecting her glossy lips to his cockhead, snapping as she smiled up at him, her breasts heaving, her eyes dark with hunger.

"You going to put that back in me now, or do I have to beg for it?"

Lor didn’t answer with words, his hazel eyes blazing behind the black-and-gold velvet mask.

He grabbed her by the waist, his grip rough, fingers sinking into the soft, plush flesh of her hips, sliding down over the taut black garter straps and her firm, round ass.

Her laugh was low and delighted, a throaty purr as she let him bend her forward over the padded bench, the same one where Toren’s wife lay spent, her pussy still dripping his cum in a glistening mess.

The redhead’s heels clicked wider on the marble, spreading her legs with practiced ease, her lace string panties pulled aside, revealing a soaked, glistening pussy that throbbed with need, lips swollen and pink, slick trailing down her inner thighs like liquid desire.

"Gods, you’re soaked," Lor muttered, lining up behind her, his cock twitching, wet from her mouth, still glistening with the last woman’s spit and his own cum, the head flushed and throbbing.

She looked back over her shoulder, her red curls tumbling over her masked face, freckles glowing in the flickering mana-light, her catlike onyx mask glinting with mischief.

"You’ve got me dripping, pretty boy. Now fuck me like you mean it."

And he did.