CHAPTER 136: HOT

"You’re both so fucking hot like this," Lor muttered, his voice tight, his cock twitching against Lia’s lower back, hardening again as his fingers curled inside her, dragging another cry from her lips, her pussy pulsing wildly.

"Please—Lor—fuck—I’m cumming!" Lia wailed, her body snapping forward, muscles locking as her orgasm slammed through her, her pussy clenching violently around his fingers, her thighs clamping around his hand, her whole body shuddering in his arms.

The sound was loud, shaking, messy—soaked in release and surrender—as she collapsed back against his chest, her plush thighs twitching, her generous chest heaving, her green eyes dazed with pleasure.

Lor didn’t stop immediately, his fingers moving slowly inside her, milking the aftershocks, his other hand gently massaging her trembling breasts, smearing the mint oil deeper into her flushed, freckled skin, her nipples hard and glistening.

Sophia leaned in, her lips finding his again, slow and deep this time, her tongue sliding into his mouth as her small breasts pressed hard to his back, her pussy throbbing with the shared heat of Lia’s climax.

They stayed like that—Lia twitching in his lap, fucked senseless on his fingers.

Sophia wrapped around him from behind, rubbing her slick chest against his skin, kissing him like he was her last breath, her blue eyes half-lidded with lingering arousal.

Lor’s hands didn’t stop, one buried in Lia’s dripping pussy, the other kneading her breast, his cock throbbing against her back, the air heavy with the scent of mint, lavender, and their raw desire.

__________

Silverward Manor

The manor was silent, a velvet-dark silence that pressed against the senses—thick curtains drawn, candles long extinguished, warding spells humming low along the baseboards like sleeping serpents.

But Kiara’s room pulsed with heat, not of flesh or friction, but of something deeper, older, primal.

The air was heavy with the scent of her—spicy perfume.

Her full breasts rising beneath her thin white silk nightshirt, nipples stiff against the fabric.

Her breath caught.

Then she gasped, her back arching beneath the silk sheets, her long legs twitching, her plush thighs tensing, her pussy throbbing faintly as a surge of power rushed through her.

Her hands clutched the sheets, knuckles pale, her dark bangs splaying across her forehead, her icy blue eyes glowing faintly in the dark.

It wasn’t pleasure.

It was power.

It rushed into her like a storm tide—raw, primal, familiar, licking at the base of her spine, surging up her nerves, filling her limbs with sparks and fire and need—not carnal, but magical.

Elemental.

Her full breasts heaved with each breath, her skin sheening with sweat, her pussy tingling with the echo of Lor’s touch.

She sat up sharply, her collarbones glistening, her icy blue eyes blazing with witchlight.

"...Lor," she whispered, a grin curling her lips, her voice husky with triumph.

He was already feeding her.

Somewhere, out there in the night, her partner—her pawn—was making someone cum.

Multiple someones, maybe.

The bond between them pulsed, invisible and alive, a tether strung tight through her heart, her pussy throbbing faintly as she felt it.

Every time he drew moans through flesh and surrender, she drank from it too, nourishing her, strengthening her, her witch blood humming with his lust.

She slid from the bed without a word, barefoot across the cold stone floor, her nightshirt clinging to her tall frame, shimmering against her skin as she moved, her full breasts swaying, nipples rubbing faintly against the silk.

Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, long and black as a raven’s wing, her pussy pulsing with the power coursing through her.

She didn’t bother with a robe.

Let the moon see her.

Let the sky watch.

She climbed the inner tower stairs barefoot, each step lit by the soft glow of her internal witchlight, her icy blue eyes blazing with purpose.

The house was quiet, obedient—no guards stirred, no servants peeked.

The door to the rooftop opened with a hiss, the cold night air rushing in, carrying the scent of iron and ozone, a storm brewing in the distance.

Kiara stepped out onto the blackstone balcony, high above the noble quarter, the Silverward estate stretching out below like a tamed beast, its spires curling like blades.

Her dark bangs fluttered in the wind, her full breasts rising with a slow breath, her pussy tingling as the storm’s energy mingled with her own.

The sky was a ceiling of churning gray—thick clouds rolling in heavy, wet swirls, ready to break but holding back.

Her eyes were wild now, electric, her witchlight glowing brighter.

The magic thrummed in her chest, a glowing ember behind her ribs, pulsing through her veins like threads of lightning beneath her skin, her full breasts heaving, her pussy throbbing faintly with the power’s intensity.

She raised her arms, fingers spread, lips parting, her voice spilling like poison wrapped in poetry.

"Reithu var’mali, enoch tal’ven—rend the veil, and drink the sky."

Pink light exploded from her fingertips, a swirling, concentrated beam of charged witchfire—laced with the magic she had harvested through Lor’s lust, her own hatred, and centuries of buried blood.

It launched upward, searing through the air, striking the clouds like a spike of divine wrath, heat and pressure exploding through the swirling mass.

For a moment, they resisted.

But then—they parted.

Not completely. Not yet.

But enough—a jagged hole ripping open above the manor, exposing the stars, a fracture in the heavens, a glimpse through the veil.

Cold wind whipped around her body, raising her hair like a halo, her nightshirt clinging to her full breasts and plush thighs, her pussy pulsing with the raw power coursing through her.

Her skin glowed pink now, fully suffused, runes flickering to life on her arms, her back, her collarbones—sigils of inheritance, banished rites, forbidden names, etched in light that pulsed with her heartbeat.

Kiara laughed, the sound starting as a soft giggle, then widening, growing into a cackle—unhinged, victorious, echoing over the rooftops like a witch at the gallows laughing at the crowd.

"He’s already at it," she whispered, licking her lips, her icy blue eyes wide with something unholy, her full breasts rising with each breath. "He’s learning. Feeding. Fucking. Perfect."

Her arms lowered slowly, her hands trembling with how good it felt—power through him, pleasure through them, and her—rising, her pussy throbbing with the magic’s intensity, her skin alive with witchlight.

"I am not strong enough yet..." she murmured, her eyes fixed on the gap she’d made in the storm, the tear trembling, faint and flickering. "But I will be."

She turned back toward the manor, her smile creeping wider, colder, her dark bangs framing her face, her full breasts swaying as she moved, her heart pulsing with the promise of vengeance.