Ch. 71 – She Never Said How Many

Before Rhys could even attempt to drag his shattered mind back to reality, he felt a sudden shifting of weight. Shula had somehow stripped out of her clothes with impossibly fast efficiency, her bronze skin gleaming in the dim light. Before Rhys could even begin to process the mystery of how she had shed her outfit so silently, Shula hovered over him and brought her hips down, taking him fully inside her in one fluid, uncompromising motion.

Both of them gasped in unison—a sharp, synchronized intake of air that echoed off the guest room walls.

Shula immediately began to move, setting a smooth, deeply rhythmic pace that took full advantage of her absolute control. She was taking her time, savoring every single millimeter of the connection. Rhys clenched his teeth, his fingers digging into the bedsheets as he tried with all his remaining willpower to hold on against the intense, suffocating grip of her internal muscles.

It was the warmth that threw his senses into absolute disarray. Logically, given her Ifrit biology, the heat should have scorched his flesh, searing him with third-degree burns. Instead, her thermal energy wrapped around him like an impossible, soothing blanket—warming his tired, kinetic-damaged cells like being enveloped in a comforting, living fire.

Shula leaned forward, her chest hovering inches from his as her golden-amber eyes locked onto his face with a terrifyingly soft intensity. "I am so happy... to finally be with you, Rhys," she breathed softly.

She abruptly accelerated her pace, her hips bucking down against his with sudden, violent force.

A heavy, helpless shudder ripped straight through Rhys’s entire frame.

"I am going to love this child so much..." Shula whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of raw passion and deep-seated obsession as she rode him.

Reflexively, seeking any form of leverage to anchor himself against her relentless rhythm, Rhys brought his hands up and clamped them onto her hips, trying to stabilize her. She didn't slow down. Her magic began to flare wildly beneath her skin, superheating the air in the room until the faint smell of ozone and sweet cinnamon filled the space.

"Our heir... will be the absolute best there ever was," she gasped out, her head rolling back in sheer pleasure.

Rhys’s brain stalled. 'Our heir'?!

The word struck him like a physical blow, cutting straight through the overwhelming fog of sensory overload. Did she not mean her child with Darius? Was this not meant to be a proxy contribution to save her husband's family line? She had to have meant that. There was no way she could possibly mean—

Before he could process the terrifying implication, Shula hit her peak.

She finished hard, her entire body seizing in a violent, magnificent spasm. The raw, unfiltered moan that tore from her throat didn't just vibrate in the air—her ambient magic caused a strange, acoustic friction in the room, making her breathless cries echo as if her voice were coming from every single corner of the guest room at once.

Rhys was thoroughly drowned in the sound. Against his better judgment, against every moral fiber left in his battered soul, hearing the sheer, explosive symphony of her pleasure excited him on a primal level. His eyes drifted up to her form, taking in her bare, perfect frame, her beautiful breasts swaying in wild, heavy rhythm with her continuous, spasming motions.

Yielding to the overwhelming gravity of the moment, Rhys reached his hands up from her hips and caught her breasts in his palms, squeezing her firmly.

Shula instantly noticed the shift—she felt him finally giving in, surrendering his resistance to the tide. A look of frantic, ecstatic delight illuminated her face.

"Yes!" she gasped out.

She accelerated her speed to a terrifying, superhuman level. The rapid, powerful thrusts of her hips were so intense that they physically lifted Rhys’s back off the mattress, his body involuntarily bucking upward to meet her rhythm. Rhys was hovering right on the sharp, agonizing edge of complete release.

Shula was crashing through a second peak right on top of him, her body convulsing in hard, violent tremors.

"You've been waiting for this too, Rhys!" Shula cried out, her voice echoing in surreal harmonic layers. "Don't deny it! My body was made for you!"

Rhys’s mind fluttered, his logical thoughts dissolving into absolute dust. As her internal heat surged around him, he couldn't even lie to himself anymore—in this split second of pure, unadulterated friction, it felt exactly like her body had been tailored specifically for his.

The dam broke. Rhys finished hard, a deep, guttural sound escaping his chest as his entire body went rigid.

Shula refused to let a single drop go to waste. She dropped her weight fully onto his chest, her long, toned legs wrapping tightly around his waist, locking his lower body to hers in an absolute vice grip. They stayed glued together for what felt like endless, agonizing minutes, Rhys's body continuing to pulse weakly inside her while her internal muscles contracted around him, drawing every fraction of energy into her core.

Slowly, the intense heat began to dissipate, leaving the room heavy with sweat and silence.

Rhys snapped out of his daze. The fog cleared from his mind, replaced instantly by a cold, crushing wave of reality and immediate, suffocating guilt.

He shifted his weight, trying to roll to the side and push her off. But as he moved, Shula rolled with him, her arms and legs still firmly wrapped around his torso like a stubborn vine, refusing to decouple.

Rhys looked at her, his expression a mix of exhausted incredulity and growing alarm. "Shula... what are you doing? Where do you think you're going?"

Shula looked up at him, her bronze face wearing an expression of genuine, baffling confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I finished!" Rhys said bluntly, his voice sharp as he pointed toward the door. "That was the rule! Lira said once it's done, it's over! That means this is finished!"

A slow, terribly knowing smile spread across Shula’s face. She leaned up, shamelessly trailing her wet tongue over his chest and up his neck, before leaning into his ear.

"Lira said the visit is over when you finish..." Shula whispered, her hot breath sending a violent chill down his spine. "She never stated how many times you had to finish."

Rhys’s eyes went wide with pure horror.

Before he could even open his mouth to scream an objection, Shula softly began bucking her hips again. Rhys was still fully inside her, his flesh agonizingly sensitive from his recent release.

A helpless, sensitive shudder ripped through Rhys’s frame as her internal heat instantly reignited around him. Shula smiled wide, feeling him instantly reacting beneath her, and she began trailing long, wet licks all over his jaw and collarbone once more, setting a fresh, steady pace.

As her hips began to move with deliberate, relentless purpose, a heavy, hollow despair settled over Rhys's chest. He stared blankly up at the shadowy ceiling of his guest room, realizing with absolute, terrifying certainty that he was never, ever going to get out of this room alive.