The lamplight flickered, casting shadows that danced across Lila's bare skin as she straddled Jace, her thighs pressed tight against his hips. His cock was buried inside her, her warmth and tightness gripping him like a vise, sending shocks of pleasure through every nerve.
Jace's hands twitched against the silken sheets, his mind a tangle of raw want and sharp suspicion. What's she doing to me? he thought, his pulse hammering as he fought to keep his "drunk" facade intact, even as his body screamed to let go.
Lila moved slowly at first, her hips rolling in a deliberate, teasing rhythm, each stroke pulling a low groan from his throat. Her breasts swayed with every motion, full and soft, catching the moonlight in a way that made his mouth dry. He couldn't look away, the sight stoking the fire in his gut. His hands found her thighs, fingers digging into the firm, warm flesh, feeling the muscles flex as she rode him.
She didn't react, her eyes squeezed shut, lips parted slightly, her face a mask of concentration. Is she playing me, or is she lost in this too? Jace wondered, his thumbs tracing the curve of her thighs, sliding higher to grip her ass, the skin soft but taut under his palms.
Her pace quickened, hips grinding faster, the slick heat of her sliding up and down his cock with a rhythm that made his head spin.
Each thrust was a jolt, her tightness squeezing him so hard he clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to cum too soon.
The sensation was overwhelming—hot, wet, relentless—every nerve tingling, his body teetering on the edge.
"Fuck," he muttered, the word slipping out, rough and unfiltered, his voice barely passing for the slurred act he was clinging to. He groaned again, low and guttural, his hands tightening on her ass, pulling her closer as she moved.
Lila slowed suddenly, pausing with him deep inside her, her chest heaving as she panted, sweat glistening on her collarbone. Her eyes stayed shut, her brow furrowed like she was chasing something just out of reach.
Then she started again, faster, harder, her hips slamming down with a force that made the bed creak, her soft moans filling the room—breathless, needy, but controlled.
Jace's breath hitched, his fingers digging into her skin, the pressure building so fast he could barely think. Stay sharp, don't lose it, he told himself, but her rhythm was merciless, each stroke pulling him closer to breaking.
She leaned down, her hair brushing his chest like silk, and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was fierce, hungry, her tongue tangling with his, sucking at his mouth like she was drawing out his very soul.
Jace's hands slid up her back, fingers catching in her hair, tugging lightly as he kissed her back, hard and desperate, his facade cracking under the weight of it. Her taste; wine, spice, and something wild flooded his senses, making his head swim for real this time. She pulled back, lips swollen, and resumed riding him, her pace relentless, her moans sharper now, though her eyes never opened.
The room was a blur of heat and sound—the creak of the bed, the slap of skin against skin, the faint gurgle of the lamp wick.
Jace's body was on fire, his cock throbbing inside her, the tightness and friction driving him to the edge. He could feel it building, a white-hot pressure in his core, his groans louder now, barely muffled by the act. She's gonna ruin me, he thought, half-dazed, his hands gripping her hips as she moved, her breasts bouncing with every thrust, her skin slick with sweat.
Then, abruptly, she stopped. Her hips stilled, his cock still buried deep, and she let out a sharp, frustrated, "It's not working."
Her eyes flicked open, dark and stormy, her chest heaving as she slid off him, leaving him aching and exposed.
Jace blinked, stunned, his body screaming at the sudden absence of her heat. She stood, snatching her nightdress from the floor, the silk rustling as she pulled it over her head. Without a glance back, she strode to the door, her steps quick and clipped, and slipped out. The latch clicked shut, the sound sharp in the sudden silence.
Jace sat up, his breath ragged, his cock still hard and pulsing, the edge of climax so close it hurt. Confusion crashed over him like a cold wave, his mind scrambling to make sense of it.
What the hell was that? he thought, his chest tight with a mix of frustration and something heavier, like rejection. Was it me? The draught? Or is she just fucking with me? His hands clenched the sheets, knuckles white, as anger and hurt tangled in his gut. He couldn't just sit there, not like this, not with his body screaming for release.
With a low curse, he wrapped a hand around himself, stroking fast, desperate, the slickness from her still coating him.
The sensation was sharp, almost painful, but he pushed through, his mind replaying her moans, the way her body moved, until the pressure broke, spilling over in a rush that left him gasping. He slumped back against the bed, the silk cool against his flushed skin, his heart pounding as the room settled into quiet.
The lavender scent lingered, mocking him, and he stared at the ceiling, alone with his questions. What's your game, Lila? he thought, the answer no closer than before.