Chapter 68 - 67- Vex have lady luck

She couldn’t move.

Her whole body had gone stiff the moment she felt it—thick, hot, pulsing—right there between her thighs.

Vex’s shaft.

It wasn’t just resting on her panties. It was buried between her folds, the pressure gliding lower along her slit, slow and maddening, like it was seeking something even it didn’t understand.

The soaked cotton did nothing—it stuck to her, drenched and thin, riding up the curves of her pussy lips and letting his shaft nestle in deeper, as if her own body had betrayed her and opened the way.

The curve of it pressed down, caught tight between her thick, soft lips. Every little twitch of his cock made her feel like she was being stroked from the inside out.

The head nudged lower, fat and angry, sliding past the crease of her folds, leaving a trail of Asperia’s wetness mixed with her own.

And all she could do was stand there—legs trembling, arms clutching a bunch of clothes over her chest, trying to cover her breasts that were still heaving from earlier.

She blinked up at him, eyes wide, heart racing so hard it was making her ears ring.

He was looking down at her—not smug, not apologetic—just there. Watching her like he couldn’t believe what her body was doing.

And she could barely breathe.

Because she knew what he saw.

She felt the green hairs around her pussy curl out from the edges of the panties, wet and clinging to the sides, the heat radiating from between her thighs, and the scent... gods, the scent of his was thick in the air.

Sweet and musky, raw—same as the one dripping from her thighs like honey and shame.

Her nipples ached, stiff under the soft cloth bunched to her chest, the cold air and her racing blood making them press so hard they might as well be exposed.

Her legs were weak, like her knees might give out at any second—and worst of all, she liked how his cock felt pressing into her.

She hated it. Hated herself.

She felt an itch between her folds.

Outside, her sister’s voice cut through the storm in her head.

"I’ll wait here, then."

Her heart jumped into her throat.

She couldn’t let Maira in.

"W-wait, sister," she said, her voice cracking, breathless. "I’ll come out soon..."

Vex didn’t move. His hand was still on the door, but his body stayed pressed into hers, as if frozen by the heat between them.

"No," Maira said firmly. "You’re not fine. Just look at the bed. You cried so much, you soaked everything!"

Her stomach dropped.

She hadn’t cried on the bed.

That wasn’t tears.

That was... squirts. Spurts. Her shame. The evidence of what her fingers had done.

Her breath hitched again, eyes wide, lips parting, but no sound came out.

She looked up at him again. Slowly.

His golden eyes—that was the first thing she saw—bright, sharp, like two suns burning down her guilt. His hair, that soft gold, messy and wild, a few strands stuck to his damp forehead.

His jaw flexed, tense, as if holding back words. His chest rose and fell with slow, quiet restraint.

And she couldn’t help it.

Her body responded.

A sudden pulse clenched deep in her core.

"Mhhm." Her pussy throbbed—another warm slick sliding out, soaking her panties even more, dripping directly onto his shaft.

She felt it.

He felt it.

His cock jumped.

The heat between them flared again.

And that was when her voice gave out entirely. No more words.

Just breath.

Shallow, panicked, thick with want.

Her legs tightened together instinctively, trying to trap the pressure, but all it did was squeeze his cock tighter against her slit, sandwiching it between her folds.

She could feel every vein along it now, feel the slow throb of his pulse through the damp fabric, and she swore she was about to melt.

And then, he moved.

Not much—just shifted slightly against her, maybe from trying to balance his weight—but it was enough.

The head of his cock slid lower, dragging right across her clit.

Her eyes shot open. Her mouth opened in a silent gasp. Her spine arched so subtly even she didn’t notice.

And then—

His hand covered her mouth.

He looked at her, eyes wide, chest barely rising as if the breath in his lungs had turned too heavy to carry.

His hand still hovered by the door, but his body hadn’t moved, hadn’t dared lean back, not even an inch, and she could feel the warmth of him—his skin, his scent, the thick shape of him still pressing into her, right there between her legs.

And then came his whisper, low and ragged, like it hurt to say it out loud.

"If Maira finds us like this... she’ll hate me."

Something about those words cracked her open. Not because of what they meant.

But because of how he said them—with panic, not lust.

With fear—not of being caught, but of being hated by the one he thought mattered.

And that stung more than anything else.

A tear slipped from her lashes before she even realized her eyes were wet.

Her jaw clenched tight, as if trying to hold back something she didn’t understand. Her heart was pounding again, but it wasn’t just from arousal this time.

It was from something messier, sharper, something that made her chest ache.

And she didn’t know why—maybe it was the weight of everything left unsaid—but the words spilled from her lips before she could stop them.

"...Why not me?"

It came out as a whisper, but it echoed inside her head like a scream. She didn’t know where it came from.

Maybe it was jealousy.

Maybe it was heartbreak.

Maybe she had finally mistaken lust for something more dangerous—but whatever it was, it was real.

It was raw. And it tore right through her.

Vex stared at her like she had just said something impossible.

"What?" he whispered, confusion flickering in his eyes.

But she wasn’t even sure what she meant herself. Her head was spinning, flooded with memories she hadn’t wanted to think about.

Like the time he saved her from Liren—how terrified she’d been, how his hand had yanked her away before anything worse could happen.

And what did she do? Scream at him. Call him a pervert. Spit her fear onto the only person who tried to help.

Then later, when he saved Maira—her sister, her world—he had risked everything, bled for her, fought like a monster, and still, she yelled again. Never once thanked him.

Never once asked why he kept showing up when no one else did. She had convinced herself he was nothing but a nuisance, a problem she couldn’t trust.

And maybe that’s why it hurt now. Because despite it all, he looked at Maira like she was everything. And never once looked at her like that.

Her fingers had gone numb without her noticing.

The clothes she had clutched to her chest fell from her grasp, hitting the floor in a slow, silent slump.

She didn’t care anymore. About hiding. About pretending.

Her chest was bare, nipples flushed and tight from the cold, the heat, the shame—but she didn’t flinch.

She looked up at him, tears still clinging to the corners of her eyes, and took a step forward. Her breasts pressed softly into his chest, skin against skin, and the warmth of him made her breath hitch.

Her nipples grazed across his skin, and it was so sharp, so overwhelming, that her legs almost gave out. But she held still.