NOVPUB
Chapter 89: Why am I resisting?
"I want you to fuck me senseless in this trial room."
"Freya," Kael murmured, his voice a low growl, rough with the effort of restraint. His fingers tightened around the curtain, knuckles whitening as he fought the tide of desire her words had unleashed.
The request was a spark in a powder keg, igniting every nerve in his body.
His cock strained against the denim of his jeans, a relentless ache, but the reality of their surroundings—a public store, voices drifting from the next stall—held him back like a leash.
"No," he said, the word sharp, though his hazel eyes betrayed him, drinking in the sight of her: the crimson lace, the arch of her spine, the defiant tilt of her chin. "This is a public place. We can’t."
Freya’s lips curved beneath the mask, a wicked smile that sent a shiver down Kael’s spine even though he couldn’t see it, her eyes told it all.
She stepped closer, hips swaying with a rhythm that was both taunt and invitation.
She struck a pose against the booth’s wall—hand braced, back arched, breasts thrust forward, the thong a fragile barrier between her thighs, parted just enough to tease.
"Going back on your word, Kael?" she purred, her voice a warm caress through the mask, each syllable dripping with heat.
"You promised me anything. This is my reward." Her eyes locked onto his, unyielding, a gaze that stripped away his defenses, the mask amplifying her allure, making her both forbidden and irresistible.
Kael’s breath hitched, his cock throbbing, his resolve unraveling like a thread caught in a storm.
Why am I resisting?
He wondered, his mind a battlefield of lust and caution.
The public setting was a risk, yes, but...
It’s Freya and she is hot as fck.
The mask transformed her, her eyes burning brighter, her hidden lips a promise of decadence.
Why was he denying what his body screamed to take?
The thought of her, demanding him here, now, in this stolen moment, was a drug he couldn’t refuse.
She asked for it, she will get it.
A ragged sigh escaped him, and a smirk curled his lips, his hazel eyes glinting with surrender.
"You win," he murmured, stepping into the booth, the curtain swishing shut, sealing them in a world of shadows and heat.
Freya’s eyes blazed with triumph as she reached for him, but Kael was quicker, his hands finding her waist, pulling her against him.
Her body was warm unlike her icy powers, pliant, the crimson lace a fleeting barrier, her curves melding to his frame. The heat of her skin seeped through the fabric, and he felt the rapid thud of her heart, echoing his own.
Their lips couldn’t meet, the mask a barrier, but Freya’s eyes were a cosmos of desire, her breath hot through the fabric, her fingers digging into his shoulders with a hunger that matched his.
Kael’s hands roamed, slow and reverent, sliding up her sides, his thumbs grazing the undersides of her breasts, the lace rough against his skin, her nipples pebbling under his touch.
She arched into him.
"Mhha," a soft moan muffled by the mask, her nails scraping his leather jacket, urging him deeper.
He spun her gently, pressing her back against the booth’s wall, the wood cool against her skin, the crimson bra glowing faintly in the dim light.
His lips found her neck, tracing a slow, wet trail, his tongue flicking against her pulse, drawing a shiver that cascaded through her, her thighs pressing together in a silent plea.
Kael’s hand slid lower, tracing the delicate strap of her thong, his fingers dipping beneath to graze her inner thigh, teasingly close to her heat.
Freya gasped, her hips bucking, her moan sharper, and Kael’s hand clapped gently over her mask, his palm firm, muffling her as he began his exploration.
His fingers found her wetness, circling her entrance with agonizing slowness, coating themselves in her arousal before slipping inside, one, then two, curling to find that sensitive spot within.
Freya’s body tensed, her breath hitching, her hips rocking to meet his rhythm. 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙥𝙪𝙗.𝒄𝙤𝙢
He moved with precision, his fingers pumping slowly, then faster, curling and stroking, drawing her closer to the edge.
Her walls tightened around him, her muffled whimpers growing desperate, her thighs trembling as he brought her to the brink, only to slow, keeping her teetering on the edge of release, her body a live wire under his command.
"This dress is cute, but the sizing’s off"
Voices drifted from the next stall—two women having a light conversation.
"Ugh, why do they make these so tight in the hips?" the other replied, followed by the rustle of fabric.
Freya’s pulse surged along with Kael’s, the risk a heady aphrodisiac, amplifying every touch, every sound.
"Keep quiet," Kael whispered, his breath hot against Freya’s ear, his voice a velvet growl, wanting her desperate—and she was, her eyes fluttering, her body quivering under his relentless fingers.
Kael shifted his approach, wanting to savor her.
He turned her to face the wall, her hands braced against the wood, her body arched toward him. He knelt behind her, his hands sliding up her thighs, parting them gently.
The wet crimson thong was a stark contrast to her pale skin, and he hooked his fingers beneath it, tugging it aside.
He leaned forward, his lips brushed the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, kissing a slow path upward, his breath warm against her wetness.
Freya’s gasp was sharp, muffled by the mask, her body trembling as his tongue flicked out, tasting her, teasing her folds with languid strokes.
He explored her with reverence, his tongue circling her clit, then dipping lower, savoring her heat, her moans a soft, desperate hum.
The voices next door continued—"Maybe try the blue one, but it looks too skimpy."
But Kael was lost in Freya, his hands gripping her hips, holding her steady as he brought her to the edge again, her body shaking, her breath ragged.
Then, he rose, his cock aching, and guided Freya down, her knees sinking to the floor by the wall, her back against the wood, the wet crimson thong stark against her pale skin as her pussy dripped.
Kael looked into her pleading eyes which begged for a release, he smiled and raised her hands above her head, pinning them with one hand, her wrists slender, her pulse racing beneath his grip.
With his free hand, he slid the black mask from her mouth to her eyes, blindfolding her, her lips parting in a soft gasp, her platinum-cyan hair framing her now-hidden face, her vulnerability a gift that made his desire burn hotter.
"Trust me," he murmured, and she nodded, her breath shallow, her lips glistening in the dim light.
He leaned closer, his breath teasing her lips, his tongue flicking out to trace their outline, coaxing her to respond.
Freya’s tongue met his, tentative at first, then bolder, a slow dance of heat and promise, her lips parting wider, inviting him deeper.
Kael pulled back with a string of their saliva stretching.
He unzip his jeans, freeing his cock, hard and throbbing, and guide it to her mouth.
"Now, open your mouth"
