Lucas had to give it to her—Selene knew how to fuck. The way she moved, the way she rode him in that cramped tub, water splashing everywhere, her thick thighs flexing with every bounce—"it was damn good. She’s got skills," he thought, his hands resting on her hips as she ground down on him, her pussy tight and slick around his cock.
She was into it now, her fingers tangled in his wet hair, gripping tight, pulling just enough to sting. Her moans filled the steamy room, loud and raw, and he could tell she was loving every second of it, lost in the sensation of him filling her up. Lucas, though? He was focused elsewhere—greedily sucking in her Yin energy, letting it flow into him with every thrust. It was rich, thick, buzzing through his core, and he could feel it feeding his cultivation, strengthening him bit by bit.
"She’s mid-stage adept rank, he thought," his mind sharp even as his body hummed with pleasure. Her Yin was strong, no doubt about that, but it wasn’t as pure as Lira’s, there was a roughness to it, a wild edge that didn’t quite match the soft, clean rush he’d gotten from Lira coupled that he was the first person to fuck her.
"Still good, though, he admitted," his lips twitching into a smirk.
He let her ride him for a while, her hips rolling fast, her plump breasts bouncing against his chest, but then he decided he’d had enough of the tub.
Without a word—he didn’t feel like talking to her, not now—he grabbed her under the thighs and stood up, water pouring off them in sheets. She yelped, her arms flailing for a second before wrapping around his neck, and he carried her out of the bath, his steps steady despite the slick floor.
Her wet skin stuck to his, her jasmine scent clinging to him, and he didn’t say a thing—just hauled her over to the bed in the corner of the room. The silence hung heavy between them, thick with tension, but he didn’t care.
He dropped her onto the mattress, the old frame creaking under her weight, and she scrambled to position herself, facing the wall, her knees digging into the sheets. Her fat ass stuck out, round and inviting, practically begging for him, and she twisted her head back to look at him, her eyes dark and desperate.
"Fuck me, Xavier... fuck me... I want more of you," she panted, her voice rough, needy.
Lucas gave a short nod, not bothering to answer her. His cock was still hard, dripping with her pussy juice, shiny and slick from their time in the tub. He stepped up behind her, one hand steadying himself on the bed, and lined up, the tip brushing her entrance for just a second before he thrust in—sharp and deep, no warning.
Selene moaned loud, a jagged sound that was half-pain, half-pleasure, her hands clawing at the sheets.
"Too big," she thought, her body tensing as he stretched her again, the ache sharp but so damn good she couldn’t complain. He grabbed her waist then, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, and started thrusting, hard and merciless, his hips slamming into her with a rhythm that shook the bed.
"He’s not holding back," she thought, her head spinning as he pounded into her, her fat ass smacking against his thighs with every stroke. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, loud and messy, and she couldn’t keep quiet—swearing and screaming, her voice breaking as pleasure ripped through her.
"Fuck... oh gods... yes!" she yelled, her words tumbling out sloppy, wild with how good it felt. She was losing it, her whole body rocking with his thrusts, her tits swaying under her, her pussy clenching around him like she couldn’t get enough.
Lucas didn’t care about her noise—he kept going, his grip tight, his cock driving into her over and over. "She’s a screamer," he thought, almost amused, but he didn’t let it show.
Her Yin energy kept pouring into him, rich and chaotic, and he took it all, letting it fuel him while he fucked her senseless. Her ass jiggled with every hit, soft and heavy against him, and he could feel her getting close—her moans turning sharper, her body trembling, her pussy tightening like she was about to explode.
"Not yet, he decided," his jaw clenching. Just as she teetered on the edge, he pulled out, sharp and sudden, leaving her empty.
Selene gasped, her head whipping around, her eyes wide and pleading. "No... please... more!" she begged, her voice cracking, her hands reaching back like she could pull him in again. But Lucas ignored her, stepping back, his cock still hard and dripping, glistening with her juices. She doesn’t get to finish, he thought, cold and stubborn.
He wasn’t giving her that—not after everything. He turned away, grabbing his robe from the floor, the damp fabric sticking to his fingers as he yanked it on. Selene’s whines followed him, desperate and sad, but he didn’t look back—just tied the robe shut and headed for the door, leaving her there on the bed, sprawled out and wanting. The room smelled like sex and jasmine, heavy and thick, but he pushed it out of his mind, stepping into the cooler air of the hall without a word.
Selene slumped onto the mattress, her body shaking, her pussy still throbbing with need. He left me, she thought, a lump rising in her throat as she stared at the empty doorway. She was sad, pissed, horny as hell—and he’d just walked out like it was nothing. Her hand slid down between her legs, fumbling, rubbing herself fast, trying to chase that climax he’d denied her.
"Come on, she thought," frustrated, her fingers slick but not enough—not like his cock, not even close. It felt good, sure, but it was a weak shadow of what she’d had with him inside her, stretching her, pounding her. "Damn it, Xavier" she muttered, her voice shaky, her hips bucking against her hand. She wanted more of him—needed it—and he’d left her high and dry, aching for something she couldn’t get on her own.
"He’s such a bastard, she thought, rubbing harder, but the pleasure stayed just out of reach, teasing her, leaving her restless and unsatisfied.
Lucas was now in the hallway, the cool air hitting his damp skin as he tugged his robe tighter around him. The smell of Selene—jasmine and sweat and sex—still clung to him, heavy and stubborn, and he wrinkled his nose a little, trying to shake it off.
"Need to get moving," he thought, his boots scuffing against the worn wooden floor as he made his way toward the main house. He spotted one of the servants bustling by, a young guy with a mop of messy brown hair, carrying a stack of linens that looked about ready to topple.
"Hey, you," Lucas called, his voice sharp enough to make the kid jump. The servant turned, wide-eyed, nearly dropping the pile. "Go fetch Lira for me. Tell her to come quick."
The guy nodded fast, muttering something like "Yes, sir" before scurrying off. Lucas leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and waited, his mind already drifting to what he needed to get done. "Academy’s waiting," he thought, tapping his foot impatient.
It didn’t take long—Lira showed up a few minutes later, her steps soft but quick as she came down the hall. She stopped in front of him, her dark hair pulled back loose, a few strands falling into her face, and she dipped into a respectful bow, her hands clasped tight in front of her.
"I’m here, Master," she said, her voice steady but soft, like always. She kept her eyes down for a second before flicking them up to meet his, and he could see that quiet spark in them—the one she tried to hide sometimes.
"She’s always so proper," he thought, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth. He liked that about her, the way she carried herself, even if she didn’t know how much she meant to him yet.
"Let’s head to the academy," he said, pushing off the wall, his tone firm but not harsh. "Have some servants pack my stuff... the necessary loads, I mean. Tell ’em to be gentle with it—don’t want my stuffs getting all banged up. Take it to my quarters there." He scratched the back of his neck, his damp hair sticking to his fingers, and glanced at her, waiting for her to nod. Lira straightened up, brushing those stray hairs out of her face, and gave him a quick, "Ok, Master," her voice clipped but clear.
She turned to go, ready to hustle off and get it done like she always did, but then she stopped—just for a heartbeat—and her nose twitched. What’s that smell? she thought, her stomach twisting as it hit her. Jasmine. Sweat. Something musky underneath it all. It was Selene, all over him, baked into his skin like he’d rolled in her.
"They fucked," she realized, and a hot, sharp stab of jealousy punched through her chest.
She froze there, her hands balling into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. "He was with her," she thought, her mind spinning fast, picturing it���Selene’s hands on him, her thick thighs wrapped around him, her moans echoing somewhere in this damn house.
Lira’s heart thudded hard, too loud in her ears, and she had to swallow down the bitter taste creeping up her throat.
"Why her?" she wondered, her eyes flicking back to Lucas for a second, searching his face like she’d find an answer there. He’d told her before—plenty of times—that she wasn’t just a servant to him, that she was his apprentice, someone he was training up, someone he cared about. She’d clung to that, let it warm her up inside, especially after what they’d shared, that night when he had given her the pleasure of her life.
But now? Smelling Selene on him, knowing he’d been with her, it stung like hell. "I’m nothing special," she thought, her chest tightening.
She shook her head quick, trying to shove it down, wipe it away. "Get a grip, Lira," she scolded herself, forcing her hands to unclench.
"Mistress Selene is Master’s lover," she told herself, her inner voice flat, like she was reciting some rule she had to live by. "She’s got every right to fuck him whenever she wants." It made sense—Selene was gorgeous, bold, someone who could twist men around her finger without even trying. Lira? She was just the girl who fetched his tea, scrubbed his floors, followed his orders. Even if he’d said otherwise, even if he’d made her feel like more, this smell—this proof—hit her like a slap. He can do what he wants, she thought, biting her lip hard enough to hurt. But the jealousy didn’t budge—it sat there, heavy and ugly, gnawing at her no matter how much she tried to rub it off.
Lira took a shaky breath, squaring her shoulders, and turned back to him, her face smooth again, like nothing was wrong. "I’ll get it done, Master," she said, her voice steady even if her insides weren’t. She didn’t wait for him to say more—just spun on her heel and started down the hall, her sandals slapping soft against the wood.
Focus, she thought, her mind racing as she headed toward the servant quarters to round up some help. She’d get his stuff packed, get it to the academy, do her job like always. But that smell stuck with her, lingering in her nose, and every step she took, she couldn’t shake the image of Selene on him, under him, taking what Lira wanted so bad to keep for herself.
"I’m just the apprentice," she reminded herself, over and over, but it didn’t stop the ache, didn’t stop her wanting him more than she’d ever admit out loud.