CHAPTER 283: ALL NIGHT LONG, LIKE RABBITS

Silently, almost imperceptibly, soft whimpers escaped her mouth. "Jolthar, Jolthar, Jolthar," she repeated over and over again as her desire built up.

"Cleora, Cleora, Cleora," Jolthar teased back each and every time she uttered his name.

For him, too, her age mattered not. She was a wonderful woman – a beautiful woman.

As they moved together, Cleora’s passions soon overrode her sense as she lifted herself straight up and started bucking wildly, her breasts bouncing in time to her movements.

Jolthar not only saw her swaying but also got to see her womanhood devour his shaft repeatedly. Cleora did not hide her pleasure as her face started contorting and she moaned rather loudly.

After about ten minutes her moans became a full-fledged yell as her orgasm took hold.

Nearly every part of her body went stiff and spasmed as wave after wave of bliss filled her. Moments later, she felt herself going limp and rolled herself off. Her orgasm had rocked her body, but Jolthar was still aroused and erect.

"Give me a moment, darling," she whispered hoarsely.

"My throat has become dry, and I need something to drink." She gave him a peck on the cheek. "Then I have a very special treat for you."

She did not bother to cover herself as she crawled out of bed and walked to the pool nearby and drank herself until she was full.

"That’s much better," she purred as she crawled back to Jolthar.

As soon as she came, Jolthar got on top of her and positioned himself and thrust his hard shaft into her chamber.

"EHHH!!!" Cleora yelped.

"Jolthar! Slowly, darling, slowly, please," Cleora whispered, her hands clutching the grass below.

Jolthar nodded, taking her thighs and holding them to his hips, and then started slamming his dick into her pussy. Every stroke made her gasp and moan, the pleasure building with each movement. Cleora’s body arched in ecstasy as Jolthar continued to thrust, their connection deepening with each passionate moment.

Within no time, she had another orgasm, but Jolthar didn’t stop there; like he said, he could go all night.

His virility surprised her; even for a young man, he was so full of energy, and his member was so full of stamina. Cleora couldn’t help but lose herself in the pleasure, feeling completely consumed by their intense lovemaking. Jolthar’s relentless passion left her breathless and craving more.

Jolthar changed positions and fucked her for hours; the sound of water flowing, the noise of the night forest, and the distant howls – all of them were lost on their intense lovemaking.

It was like all of his desires, which had been built for a long time, crashed down on her in a wave of wild lust and primal need, leaving Cleora in a state of euphoria she had never experienced before. Jolthar’s insatiable appetite for her body seemed endless, making Cleora realize she had found a lover unlike any other.

For the nth time, both of them orgasmed, and Jolthar fell on top of her, his head resting on her bosom. He could hear her heart beating faster; his own breathing was rough too.

Even in the cold atmosphere, they were sweating profusely, their bodies intertwined in a tangled mess of passion and desire.

"By the gods!! I can’t even feel my body," Cleora gasped. She threw her hands on the grass, spreading them, feeling the dampness.

Jolthar chuckled lowly, settling beside her.

"Was I too much?"

She turned her head toward him, a lazy, satisfied smile playing on her lips.

"You? No! It was everything, just what I needed, darling."

He grinned, brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek.

"You said you didn’t want me to leave without making up for it..."

She smirked.

"Remind me next time to ask for mercy first."

Jolther held her bosom and moved in to kiss her. She held his head, her fingers running through his hair. He raised his legs, and she could feel his dick getting hard again.

She was astonished and moved back, "You are still hard, even after all that!!"

"What can I say? You make me want you more and more," he replied with a mischievous grin. "I can’t resist you," she whispered, pulling him closer for another passionate kiss.

Just like that, they were at it again—lost in each other under the stars, wrapped in a rhythm that felt endless. Jolthar was full of lust and desire, which seemed to be endless. His body was like a raging fire, fuelled by her touch and her intoxicating presence. They were consumed by a passion that knew no bounds, lost in a world where only the two of them existed.

But eventually, even the night surrendered.

As their breathing slowed and the silence of the forest returned, a faint golden hue began to spill through the gaps in the canopy overhead.

Birds stirred.

Leaves shimmered with dew.

The world was waking.

They lay on the grass, staring at the sky; their breath came in shallow gasps as they basked in the afterglow of their shared ecstasy.

The forest canopy shattered the morning light into fragments of gold that spilled across Jolthar’s face. He blinked, surprised at how swiftly night had surrendered to dawn. Beside him, Cleora’s breath came in soft waves, her body warm against the cool morning air.

Cleora blinked up at the light, her brows furrowing in surprise. "Is that... dawn?" she murmured, her voice still hoarse from all they had shared.

Jolthar closed his eyes for a moment. "Seems we outran the night," he said with a soft chuckle.

"We should return," he said, reaching for his scattered garments.

She tried to sit up, but her limbs protested. Her legs trembled slightly, and her body felt sore in ways she hadn’t expected.

"Okay... I might need a minute."

"A minute?" Jolthar grinned as he stood, pulling on his clothes with ease.

"You’ll need a ride."

Before she could argue, he helped her dress, and then he leaned down and scooped her into his arms with practised ease, cradling her against his chest.

"I’m not a damsel, Jolthar," she mumbled against his chest, though she made no effort to get down.

"No," he said with a grin, "you’re the storm after midnight. But even storms need rest."

"The mansion will be awake," she said with an air of amusement, her hands wrapped around his neck.

"Let them be," he replied, his voice carrying the quiet confidence that had defined him.

—

They reached the mansion just as the sun climbed above the hills.

Dew still clung to the grass, and the chill of the morning air clashed with the warmth still clinging to them.

As Jolthar crossed the threshold, carrying Cleora bridal-style, the hallway burst into life.

Servants paused in their morning duties, exchanging knowing glances that blossomed into poorly concealed giggles. Their dishevelled appearance told a story that required no words. Mud clung to Jolthar’s boots, leaves tangled in Cleora’s hair, and the subtle marks of passion decorated their skin.

Maidservants gasped softly, exchanged glances, and giggles spread like wildfire. A few of the older ones smiled knowingly, bowing their heads in greeting—but their amusement was unmistakable. Cleora, resting her head against his shoulder, groaned faintly. "Put me down before I die of embarrassment..."

Jolthar just grinned. Then he requested a maidservant, a jug of milk and to bring it to her chambers.

But it didn’t end there.

Just ahead, when they were about to reach Cleora’s chambers, they were met with a young woman. She stood frozen, having turned the corner at the exact wrong—or right—moment.

It was Nora. She asked, "Where were you last night...?" her words lost in the shock as she realised, as she took in all of their appearances and how Jolthar was carrying her.

Her eyes widened as they landed on the dishevelled pair: Jolthar shirtless, Cleora draped in his arms, her hair a mess and both of them clearly having spent the night anywhere but their beds. The faint bruises on Cleora’s collarbone, the mud along the hems of Jolthar’s trousers—nothing needed to be said.

Understanding dawned on her face, her cheeks blazing with colour that matched the spring roses. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then thought better of it and hurried past them, the sound of her retreating footsteps echoing off the marble floors.

Cleora buried her face in Jolthar’s chest. "Gods help me..."

"You’re welcome," he whispered with a grin, carrying her deeper into the mansion.

Cleora let out a soft laugh against Jolthar’s chest. "She’s scandalized."

His lips curved upward. "She’ll survive the shock."

He took her to her chambers.

In Cleora’s chambers, Jolthar laid her gently upon the silken sheets. The Baroness of Tekkora looked small against the expanse of her bed, her authority momentarily set aside in the quiet vulnerability of exhaustion.

"Rest," he commanded gently, before going out to ask the maids to arrange hot water.

Then he came back and fell on the bed beside her.

Jolthar and Cleora, they talked about the barony and themselves and how she was going to miss him.

After a couple of minutes, a maid entered the chamber, looking at the two of them sprawled on the bed, their baroness’s legs straddled Jolthar’s; they moved towards the bathroom, giggling and hiding their laughter.

But those two didn’t mind as they talked.