CHAPTER 171: PACE

Lor picked up the pace, his thrusts deeper now, the sound of their bodies meeting filling the room—a soft, wet rhythm that mingled with their gasps and moans.

He angled his hips, finding the spot inside her that made her cry out, a sharp, needy sound that sent a jolt through him.

He pressed into it again, and again, watching her face as her eyes fluttered shut, her lips parting wider.

The gentleness began to fray, giving way to something hotter, more urgent.

Lor’s thrusts grew harder, his grip on her hips tightening, fingers sinking into her soft flesh.

Nellie’s legs tightened around him, pulling him deeper, her nails pressing into his back through his shirt.

"Don’t stop," she gasped, the plea raw and desperate, her voice cracking with need.

He didn’t.

His rhythm turned relentless, each thrust driving deeper, the slick heat of her clinging to him, spurring him on.

The slap of skin grew sharper, the friction tighter, her body trembling beneath him with every stroke.

Her moans rose, soft cries breaking from her lips, her head tilting back, braids sliding against the rug as her back arched.

"Lor—" she moaned, her voice breaking as her thighs clenched around him, her body shuddering hard.

He felt the flutter inside her, the pulsing rush of her release, her wetness flooding around him as she cried out, her hips jerking against his.

The sound, the feel of her coming undone, was too much.

He gritted his teeth, holding himself back as her spasms eased, her body softening beneath him.

Then, with a low groan, he pulled free, his hand wrapping around his cock.

He stroked himself hard, once, twice, and the climax hit, sharp and blinding, his release spilling across her stomach and chest in hot, thick ropes, marking her pale skin once more.

The room fell quiet, their ragged breathing the only sound—hers soft and unsteady, his deep and heavy.

Nellie lay beneath him, her freckles glowing against her flushed skin, her glasses slightly askew, her braids a tangled halo around her head.

Lor leaned back, his hands resting on her thighs, his chest heaving as he took in the sight of her—marked, vulnerable, and utterly beautiful.

He reached for the discarded tissues, wiping her clean with gentle care, his fingers lingering on her skin.

"You’re incredible," he murmured, his voice rough but warm, a smile tugging at his lips.

Nellie’s eyes fluttered open, meeting his with a shy, sated glow.

"That was... amazing" she whispered, her voice soft and exhausted, a faint smile curving her lips.

Lor chuckled, low and warm, and leaned down to press a final kiss to her forehead, the gesture tender, sealing the moment.

The coin on the rug glinted faintly, a silent witness to the ritual’s completion, but the real magic was in the trust they’d woven, the heat they’d shared, and the promise of more lingering in the air.

.

.

Lor collapsed beside Nellie on the pale blue rug, his chest heaving, sweat slicking his skin.

The air was thick with the afterglow of their intimacy, the faint lavender scent of her room now tangled with the raw musk of their exertion.

Nellie lay beside him, her cheeks flushed a deep pink, her glasses adorably crooked on her nose, her ash-brown braids loosened into a soft tangle from their writhing.

Her gray eyes, hazy with a dreamy glow, met his, and the look sent a fresh throb through his already spent body.

He propped himself on one elbow, reaching for the tissues on the low table nearby.

His fingers moved with care, wiping the glistening streaks from her chest and stomach, lingering just a moment longer than necessary on her freckled skin, savoring its warmth.

"There," he murmured, tossing the tissues aside with a satisfied sigh, "all better."

Nellie blinked up at him, her breath still unsteady, then gently pushed his hand away.

"I’ll... take a bath," she said, her voice soft but carrying a quiet resolve that made his lips twitch.

Lor chuckled, low and warm. "Good idea. Wash all this away."

She sat up slowly, gathering her loosened braids over one shoulder, the motion making her bare breasts shift enticingly.

Her thighs pressed together reflexively, still trembling faintly from her release, and she rose, padding toward the door.

Just before stepping out, she glanced back, her gray eyes glinting behind her crooked glasses, a flicker of boldness beneath her shyness.

"I’ll be back soon," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He lay back, hands behind his head, grinning at the ceiling like a man who’d won a forbidden prize.

Sweet, shy Nellie—thick-thighed, bold-hearted Nellie—had spread herself for him, begged him not to stop, her moans echoing in his mind.

The thought of her now, naked and wet in her bathroom, water sluicing over her freckled skin, made his cock stir despite the exhaustion.

He closed his eyes, savoring the image, letting it linger like the aftertaste of her kiss.

The door creaked sooner than he expected, pulling him from his reverie.

Nellie stood in the doorway, her cheeks now a vivid scarlet, her arms crossed beneath her chest as if to shield herself.

Her loosened hair hung damp around her shoulders, clinging to her skin, and her thighs pressed together, a shy posture that only amplified her boldness.

"Would you... like to shower too?" she asked, the words tumbling out in a rush, barely audible.

Lor’s throat tightened, his pulse spiking.

He pushed himself upright, staring at her, caught off guard by the invitation.

That blush, that nervous stance, and yet she was the one suggesting it.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low, searching her face for hesitation.

She nodded quickly, biting her lip, her glasses slipping slightly down her nose.

"It’s... big enough. For two."

He swallowed hard, the air between them crackling with a new, unscripted heat. This wasn’t the ritual, wasn’t the Light’s bargain.

This was Nellie, raw and wanting, her lust spilling over as freely as his own.

"Of course I wouldn’t say no," he said, his grin crooked, a spark of mischief in his eyes.