Chapter 377: The Offering 12

Lor built it slowly. Long, shallow strokes first, so that her body learned the shape of him.

Then deeper, with his hand sliding up from her hip to the small of her back, holding her tilted just right.

The count she had in her mind to keep her mind sane, broke down.

She forgot numbers and started saying his name instead, and then nothing at all, only sounds that were pushed out of her on every thrust.

He reached around and found her clit with two fingers, and she clenched so hard around him that he nearly lost his grip.

"There," she said, high and breathless. "There. Lor. I’m going to..."

"Go on."

She came with her face in the quilt and a long, shaking moan that she tried and failed to bite down.

Her walls rippled and clamped on him in waves.

He held still and let her take it, buried to the hilt, with her heat milking him and every muscle in his legs locked against the pull.

When it finally let go she slumped forward on her forearms, panting.

A thin string of wet followed him when he pulled out slowly. His cock came free glistening and swollen. The residual heat of her stayed on his skin.

"Thank you," Sophia mumbled into the quilt, which made Lia snort.

He turned to Lia.

She was ready. She had been ready for some time. The green panties under the torn black mesh were dark and shining, and when he pushed them aside there was a thread of wet already hanging off her.

She looked back over her shoulder at him with her red curls in her eyes and a flushed, greedy grin. One of her hands was still between her legs. She did not move it.

"About time. Give it to me."

"Is that how you want it?"

"Yes. Now. Don’t be gentle, I’ll be mad."

"You’ll be mad," he said. He lined up and pushed.

The head went in with less resistance than Sophia’s, and then he met the same firm wall. Lia’s grin flickered. She sucked a breath through her teeth, and he felt her go rigid around him.

"Ow. Ow, okay, that’s... okay. Keep going. Keep going."

"Slowly?"

"Not slowly. Just go."

He went, one steady push, and felt something give.

Lia swore, loudly and inventively.

Her fingers clawed the quilt and her whole body locked, and for a few seconds the only sound in the room was her breathing in ragged lines through her teeth.

He stayed buried in her, both hands on her hips, as still as he could be. She was hotter than Sophia, broader, and she gripped him in short, furious squeezes.

The residual slickness from Sophia and Olivia made the fit easier than it should have been. He could feel the difference in how she held him.

A hand slid across the quilt and found hers. Sophia had dragged herself the last few inches sideways, still shaking from her own climax, and she laced her fingers through Lia’s without a word. Lia gripped hard enough to grind the bones together.

"Breathe," Sophia whispered. "Out. Like that. Count if you need to."

"I’m not counting."

"One," Sophia said anyway. "Two."

By five Lia’s grip had eased.

"Don’t you dare stop," she said.

"I’m not stopping."

"Then why aren’t you..."

She pushed back on him.

All the way back, until her ass pressed against his stomach, and she hissed and rolled her hips in a slow circle.

Then she did it again, harder.

The movement dragged him deeper.

She was wet enough now that the slide was smooth.

Her freckled shoulders tensed and then loosened. She made a low sound that was not a swear.

"Oh," she said, in a very different voice. "Oh. That’s... okay. Yes. That’s good."

She rocked onto him and off, finding the angle by trial and not caring who watched, with her curls swinging and the black mesh dragging across his thighs.

Each time she slammed back, the sound filled the room.

She was loud, and she swore, and she told him exactly how she liked it in words that made Sophia, still draped on the quilt beside her, go scarlet.

The residual heat from Sophia was still on him. It mixed with Lia’s and made every thrust smoother than it should have been.

He could feel the difference in how she gripped him, broader and less careful.

"Harder. Harder. It feels amazing."

"I’m trying not to hurt you."

"I’ll tell you if you hurt me. Do it."

He did.

He gripped her hips and met her, thrust for thrust, and the wet slap of skin filled the room.

He felt every flutter of her around him, every grip and slip.

It was hot and tight and slick, and he had to drag his attention away from it to keep from ending too soon. He slid a hand up her spine, curled it in her hair, and held her head up.

Her freckled shoulders tensed under his palm.

She pushed back harder, and the movement dragged him deeper. She was wet enough now that the slide was easy. Her breath came in short, broken sounds against the quilt.

Sophia lay with her cheek on the quilt a hand-span from Lia’s face, and watched. She had never seen anyone’s face do that.

Lia’s mouth hung open, her eyes had gone unfocused, and a flush had climbed from her chest to her hairline.

Each time Lor drove in, her whole face tightened and then slackened, and she made a short, helpless noise that sounded like a word and was not one.

Sophia’s fingers laced through hers.

She did not let go.

"What’s it like?" Sophia whispered.

"Full," Lia said. "Really full. Sophia, I don’t think I can stop."

"You don’t have to."

"I know I don’t have to," Lia snapped, and then moaned, because Lor had changed the angle.

The shift made her clench hard. He felt it all the way to the base. Her hips rolled once, twice, and then locked.

"Lor," she gasped. "Lor, I... Fuck. Fuck, I can feel it. I can feel the whole... Don’t stop.