CHAPTER 184: CLICKED

The door clicked shut behind Kiara, and Lor bolted up the stairs, taking them two at a time, his breath ragged from more than just the climb.

His head spun with the day’s chaos—the orgy’s fevered blur, Nellie’s soft surrender, the pink spirit’s haunting touch—but Kiara’s "dinner game" had left him painfully hard, his cock straining against his trousers with every step.

He slammed his bedroom door, collapsing onto the bed, face buried in the pillow as he muffled a groan.

Relief, tension, and raw need battled within him, a storm he couldn’t tame.

He wanted to laugh, to scream, to unravel.

Instead, he muttered into the fabric, "Gods above... what do I even do now?"

His eyes flicked to the window, catching a strange shimmer—a ripple of pink light, fleeting but unmistakable.

A silhouette hovered, curved and wrong, her glowing presence searing into his vision.

The spirit.

His heart leapt into his throat, fear spiking sharp—her unnatural, witch-born essence chilling his bones.

But beneath it, a low, shameful ache stirred, the memory of her cool, wet mouth, her hungry gaze, the way she’d drained him in dreams, leaving him both hollow and craving more.

"Shit," he whispered, pressing his back against the headboard, palms crackling with wind magic, ready to blast whatever dared enter. "Why does it feel so—"

The window burst open.

Cold night air flooded the room, scattering papers across his desk.

Lor flinched, bracing for the pink haze, his magic flaring brighter.

But instead, a tall shadow slipped through the frame with feline grace, moving with a confidence that grounded him instantly.

"Miss me?"

Kiara’s voice, warm and laced with mischief, cut through his panic.

She swung one long leg inside, her toned body sliding into the room as effortlessly as a shadow.

Moonlight caught her curves—her full bust, her dark hair spilling over strong shoulders, her skirt hugging her hips—making her look like a goddess who laughed at propriety.

She straightened, brushing dust from her skirt, and flashed a wicked smile. "I’m back."

Lor blinked, half-relieved, half-shaken, his magic fizzling out in his palms. "Back? You literally just left."

"Dinner was too short," Kiara replied, her smirk widening as her gaze dropped pointedly to the bulge still tenting his trousers. "And you looked... unsatisfied."

He opened his mouth to deny it, but a laugh slipped out instead, rough and unguarded. "Unsatisfied? That’s one word for it."

Something snapped inside him—not patience, not quite anger, but a pent-up need that had been straining since her teasing touches under the table.

He didn’t pause to think, didn’t give himself a chance to hesitate.

He launched forward, catching her by surprise, his body moving faster than his mind.

"Lor—!" she gasped, but he was already on her, pushing her back against the closed door with a thud.

His lips crashed into hers, hot and reckless, fueled by frustration, lust, and the lingering terror of the spirit’s touch.

He kissed her like he could burn it all away—the dreams, the fear, the questions—his tongue sliding against hers, greedy and unyielding.

His hands roamed her sides, fingers digging into her toned waist, then higher, squeezing the full swell of her breasts through her blouse, drawing a moan that vibrated against his mouth.

"You’re mine tonight," he growled, his breath ragged, teeth catching her lower lip in a sharp nip.

Kiara’s blue eyes widened at his ferocity, then narrowed, sparking with a fire that matched his own.

Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, her nails grazing his back through his shirt.

"Finally," she whispered, breathless, her voice thick with want. "That’s the Lor I wanted to see."

He kissed her again, rougher, his hands ravenous as they kneaded her breasts, thumbs brushing her nipples through the fabric until they hardened under his touch.

Her scent—clove and honey—flooded his senses, driving him half-mad, her warmth a stark contrast to the cold phantom of his dreams.

His cock throbbed, straining painfully, and he ground against her thigh, the friction sending shocks of pleasure through him, raw and electric.

This was real.

Kiara’s body, her moans, her fire—they were here, solid, his.

He bit her neck, hard enough to make her gasp, her back arching against the door as she pressed herself closer.

"Lor," she whispered, almost a plea, her voice trembling with need.

"Don’t stop."

Kiara’s back pressed against the door with a soft thud, the sound drowned by Lor’s lips as he claimed her mouth, fierce and unrelenting.

Their kisses had always carried heat—playful, teasing, or hungry—but this was different, a wildfire of desperation and need.

Not the careful Lor who tested boundaries with a grin, but something raw, almost feral, pouring every ounce of frustration, fear, and lust into her.

His hands gripped her waist, dragging her hips flush against his, the hard length of his cock pressing through his trousers, hot and insistent against her thigh.

Kiara’s muffled moan vibrated into his mouth, and he drank it down, greedy, pushing himself closer until their bodies molded together.

Her nails grazed his back through his shirt, light but possessive, her strong frame arching into him with a hunger that matched his own.

"Gods, Lor..." she breathed, her voice a mix of surprise and delight, spurring him further.

"You’ve been driving me crazy all night," he hissed, breaking the kiss to catch his breath, his lips trailing hot and slow along her jaw, down to the soft curve of her neck.

He bit gently—not enough to hurt, but enough to make her gasp, her head tilting to give him more.

"You think I can just sit there while you stroke me under the table like that?"

Her laugh was wicked, breathless, her blue eyes glinting with mischief. "

You nearly moaned in front of your parents. I thought I’d have to cover for you."

"Cover this," he growled, his hand sliding boldly up her blouse, fingers slipping beneath the fabric to cup the full swell of her breast.

The softness filled his palm, a perfect contrast to her toned frame, her nipple already hardening through the thin bra.

He squeezed, his thumb brushing slow, teasing circles, coaxing a soft moan from her lips.