Chapter 39 - what a night?? (R18)
She pulled him through the crowd, past leering sailors and giggling girls, to a back room where curtains swished shut with a soft rasp, sealing them in.
The space was tight—walls stained with years of smoke, a single lamp flickering on a rickety table—casting shadows over peeling paint and a cot shoved against the corner, its frame warped, straw mattress sagging under patched sheets. The scent of jasmine cloying hung in the air, mixing with the musk of past bodies—wood creaked underfoot as she spun him, her grip shifting to his chest—those bold hands shoved him down hard—cot springs groaned loud, protesting his weight—his cloak flared, catching a splintered edge as he hit the straw, the faint crack of wood echoing in the cramped room.
She didn't wait—straddling him fast—knees sinking into the mattress either side of his hips—her silk rustled loud, brushing his thighs as her fingers clawed at his tunic, her nails raked his chest through the fabric, sharp lines of heat flaring as she tore it open—buttons popped, skittering across the floor—baring his skin to the stale air, sweat already beading from the pub's ale and the night's edge. He growled low, a restless hunger now surging within him—his hands shot to her hips, gripping hard—fingers sank into soft flesh through silk—her smirk widened, eyes glinting as she rocked once, teasing him. Her heat pressed close, a promise through the thin layer.
He flipped her fast—cot rocked, slamming the wall with a thud—her gasp broke sharp, surprised but eager—black hair fanned across the sheets, kohled eyes widening for a beat before narrowing with want—her hands scrabbled at his shoulders, nails digging crescents as he pinned her down—silk stretched taut over her chest, nipples peaking hard under it—he yanked the fabric up—ripping it loud along a seam—scarlet tatters bunched at her waist—her cunt bared to the lamplight—olive skin flushed, wet folds glistening, dark curls slick with need—her thighs parted quick, trembling faint as the air hit her.
"Fuck me—now," she rasped—voice rough, no plea, just demand—her hips lifted, grinding air.
His cock throbbed, straining his trousers—wild sex followed—no pause, no words—just raw drive—his hands tore at his pants, fumbling rough, unleashing his cock—hard, thick, as he gripped her thighs, spreading her wider—cot banged wall again—wood splintered faint. Her legs hooked his hips, heels digging his ass, urging him in—her cunt sucked him deep as he thrust—wet, scalding—walls fairly tight, pulsing around him.
Her moans ripped out, jagged—cutting through jasmine haze—she threw her head back, throat bared—black hair tangled in sweat-soaked sheets. Her nails clawed his back—red lines bloomed, stinging hot as she bucked under him—hips slamming up to meet his—cot rocked wild, frame creaking louder, threatening to collapse—sweat mixed fast—hers salty, his bitter—dripping down his chest. Her kohled eyes rolled back, lips parted, gasping.
He pounded faster, restless. By this time Kael's voice had faded, pub tension burned out—his hands slid up—gripping her tits—squeezing hard, his thumbs flicking nipples. She arched—moaning louder—voice breaking high—her thighs shook, clamping his sides—heels dug deeper—her pussy spasmed—hot flood soaking his cock—she peaked fast—body jerking, teeth biting her own lip—eyes fluttered shut—sweat streaked her olive skin, glistening under lamplight—cot stilled a beat—creaking soft as she shuddered beneath him.
He didn't stop—thrusting rough—chasing his own—her cunt still pulsed, slick and tight—his breath rasped as his balls tightened, he could feel his climax coming. Two more slams—deep, brutal—then he pulled out—cock pulsing—spilling hot across her belly—white streaked her skin, thick and messy—dripping slow over olive curves—her smirk flickered back—lazy, sated—kohled eyes half-open—watching him finish—her hand trailed through it, smearing it across her trunk—voice hoarse—"Good soldier"—rum-laced breath faint.
He slumped back,breathing raggedly—sweat stung his eyes—jasmine clung to his throat—her legs sprawled, silk tangled and the room spun slowly. His hands fumbled, lacing up, his cock going back to rest still wet from her juices.
He reached for his belt—fingers brushing leather—then paused—pouch gone—coins missing—he patted again—nothing—grinning sheepish—head tilting up—her kohled eyes watched, smirk fading fast—brow raising slow—olive skin still flushed—black hair shifting as she sat up, tugging silk down over her cunt—covering it casual.
"Going somewhere?" she called—voice flat—edge creeping in—leaning forward—lamp flickered, casting her frown sharp—Liam half-turned—boots scuffing—hand patting belt again—empty—smile faltering—dawn grayed outside—sea air seeping through cracks—cutting jasmine haze. "Coins were right here—" he said—voice low, touching leather—"now they're gone,"—shrugging light—testing her—eyes flicking to hers—her brow arched higher—lips thinning—silk rustled as she crossed her arms.
"That's my burial now? Pay up—fucked good, didn't you?" she snapped—voice rising—olive hands clenched—kohled eyes narrowing—smirk gone—room shrank tight—lamp danced wild. Liam's grin dropped—temper flaring slow—restless itch twisting—pub dodged, now this. "Planned this? Steal and fuck—your game here?" he said—voice rough—stepping close—boots thudding—anger bubbling—her jaw tightened—silk slipping as she stood—bare feet slapping wood.
"You had your time—moaned plenty—now you won't pay?" she shot back—voice sharp—pointing fast—black hair swinging—olive skin flushed red—fury matching his—curtains twitched—heads peeked—lamp flickered hard. "Pay when you give my coins back—thieves' den," he growled—voice loud—hands flexing—her laugh barked harsh—"Thief? You're broke—deal with it!"—shouting now—room buzzed—other women slipped in—silk and lace—men followed—sailor builds—eyes cold—brothel woke—murmurs swelled—Liam's neck prickled—outnumbered—her glare burned—calling muscle.
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Boots stomped—two brutes pushed through—scarred, meaty—one bald, one bearded—grabbing his arms—dragging fast—cot tipped—sheets spilled—he thrashed—boots skidded—"Fucking crooks!" he roared—voice cracking—olive girl smirked—black hair bouncing—"Pay next time, soldier!"—her taunt chased him—curtains swished—dumped on cobbles—dawn cold—sea air hit—night soured—coinless—dragged out—streets gray—restless hum bitter.
Liam hit the cobbles hard—boots skidding—thrown out by scarred brutes as the courtesan's taunt—"Pay next time, soldier!"—rang from the brothel door—jasmine smoke spilling into dawn's gray.
He scrambled up—cloak snagged, coinless—anger hot—when Lysandra's sharp voice cut through—silver hair glinting as she strode past with Selene and Erynn—dock smoke curling behind. "What the fuck's this?" she snapped—silver eyes blazing—disgust sharp. Selene grinned wide—tail lashing—crimson eyes glinting—"Caught with your pants down, huh?"—teasing loud—claws flexing—amused as hell.
Erynn paused—golden curls framing green eyes—curious, soft—"You okay? What happened?"—staff tapping stone—brow furrowed—Liam's grin flashed—sheepish, rough—"Break went sideways—long story,"—brushing dirt—streets waking—tension thick.