Extra's Life: MILFs Won't Leave the Incubus Alone Chapter 582 - 577: smutty 2

The upper ledge stayed quiet except for the wind and the occasional low voice from the work below. Elizabeth sat with her back to the stone, legs stretched out, the damp seam of her trousers pressed against the cold rock.

The mess Aiden had left inside her the night before had not dried. Heat from the fight and the long ride had only kept it fluid. Every small shift sent another slow trickle along the inner seam.

Aiden sat close enough that their shoulders and thighs touched. The residual lock carried the exact temperature of his body and the steady, thickened current of his attention. He was not scanning the dark. He was focused on her.

"Still carrying it," he said.

"Yes."

"Good."

The word sat between them like a hand on the back of her neck. Elizabeth turned her head. In the thin starlight his eyes looked almost black. She reached down, openly this time, and pressed her palm against the soaked fabric between her legs.

The pressure forced a thicker slide of his spend against her fingers. She kept her hand there.

Through the lock she felt the precise moment his control slipped. The current between them went heavy and hot.

"Elizabeth."

"I want the nights we talked about," she said, voice low. "The ones where we choose it because the choosing is the point. Start now."

He moved. One hand caught the back of her neck, the other covered hers between her legs and pressed harder.

The wet fabric squelched softly. She opened her mouth against his and the kiss was deep, open, nothing like the brief brush after the fight.

His tongue slid against hers while his fingers worked the seam of her trousers open. Cold air hit slick skin. She lifted her hips and helped him push the fabric down to her thighs.

He did not rush the next part. He slid two fingers through the thick mess coating her, pushed them inside, and fucked them into her slowly while his mouth stayed on hers. The lock flared with every stroke.

She felt his hunger and her own answering it, clean and mutual. When she clenched around his fingers he made a low sound into her mouth and pulled them out.

"Turn," he said against her lips. "I want to be inside you while you’re still this full of me."

She turned onto her knees on the cold stone, trousers shoved further down, cloak pulled over both of them for what little cover it gave.

He freed himself, lined up, and sank into her in one long, wet thrust. The slide was filthy—slick with everything she had carried all day. She pushed back to take him deeper.

The lock carried the exact sensation of her walls stretching around him and the sharp satisfaction that rolled through him when he bottomed out.

He fucked her in deep, controlled strokes, one hand braced beside hers on the rock, the other wrapped around her hip to hold her in place. Every thrust forced more of the earlier loads out around his cock. It ran down her thighs in thick streams. She did not care.

The pleasure was sharp and full and shared. Through the bond she felt him holding back the edge so he could stay inside her longer, and she clenched around him deliberately to pull him closer to it.

"You’re going to come like this," he muttered against the back of her neck. "Full of me again. Choosing it."

"Yes—" The word broke on a hard breath. He reached around and rubbed her clit in tight circles timed to his thrusts. The orgasm hit her in a long, shaking wave.

Her cunt clamped down and milked him while fresh fluid spilled around his cock. He fucked her through it, then drove deep and held, pulsing hard as he emptied into her for the first time that night.

The heat of it was distinct from what she had already been carrying. She felt every spurt through the lock and her own body at the same time.

He stayed buried until the last pulse faded, then pulled out slowly. The rush of combined spend was immediate and heavy.

He gathered some of it on his fingers and pushed it back inside her, then smeared the rest across her clit and the swollen lips of her cunt.

"Keep it," he said, voice rough. "I want you riding back tomorrow still open and wet with both of us."

Elizabeth stayed on her knees a moment longer, breathing hard, feeling the new load begin its slow path downward. When she finally straightened and pulled her trousers up, the fabric clung immediately.

She did not clean herself. She sat back against the rock beside him, shoulder to shoulder, the lock warm and sated and still faintly humming with residual heat.

Below them the work continued. No one called for them. The night held.

They did not sleep. The watch ended, another pair took the ledge, and Elizabeth and Aiden moved down to the secondary perimeter where the light was lower and the rock formed a shallow alcove. The thralls were fully bound and sedated. Residual readings were being logged.

Kaelara had ordered a four-hour rest rotation before the return march. Most of the column had already dropped into the kind of exhausted half-sleep that came after multi-day pursuit.

Elizabeth’s trousers were a lost cause. The new load Aiden had put in her on the ledge had joined the old one; every step left a faint wet sound she no longer tried to hide.

He watched her walk. Through the lock she felt the renewed roll of lust under his control, denser than before.

They took the alcove without discussion. The moment they were screened from the main light he had her back against the stone and his mouth on hers again.

This kiss was slower, deeper, almost tender in its hunger. His hands pushed her cloak aside and opened her trousers with practiced efficiency.

She kicked one boot free so she could spread her legs wider. He dropped to one knee, dragged the soaked fabric down, and put his mouth on her.

The first long lick dragged through the thick mess of both their spend.

He groaned against her cunt and licked deeper, tongue fucking into her, cleaning and tasting at the same time. Elizabeth’s head fell back against the rock. One hand buried itself in his hair.

The lock carried the exact flavor of her on his tongue and the sharp satisfaction it gave him. He sucked her clit, pushed two fingers inside her, and curled them until her thighs started to shake.

"Aiden—"

He stood, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and kissed her so she could taste herself and him together. Then he turned her to face the rock, kicked her feet apart, and sank into her from behind in one smooth, filthy thrust. She was so wet and open that he bottomed out with almost no resistance. The sound was obscenely slick.

He fucked her harder this time—deep, rolling strokes that forced fresh cum out around his cock with every drive.

One hand reached around to rub her clit; the other covered her mouth when her moans started to rise. She came again with his palm sealing the sound, cunt spasming, more fluid spilling down her thighs. He did not stop.

He kept the same relentless rhythm until she was shaking and dripping and the only thing holding her up was his arm around her waist.

"One more," he said against her ear. "I want you so full it runs down your legs the entire ride back. I want you to feel me with every step and know we both chose it."

"Then give it to me," she managed. "All of it."

He did. The final orgasm tore through him with a low, rough sound he muffled against her shoulder. He buried himself to the hilt and flooded her, pulse after thick pulse, until she could feel the pressure of it inside her.

When he finally pulled out, the rush of spend was heavy enough to run in continuous streams down both thighs. He gathered it again, pushed as much as he could back into her, and then simply held her upright while she trembled.

They stayed like that for a long time—his chest to her back, both of them breathing hard, the residual lock glowing warm and sated between them. Eventually he helped her straighten her clothes.

The trousers were ruined. She pulled them up anyway and felt the immediate, heavy cling of fabric against skin still slick with everything he had given her.

Aiden’s hand settled at the back of her neck, thumb stroking once along the side of her throat. "When we reach the temple, we have that conversation. Full version.

And then I take you to a real bed and do this properly—slow, as many times as we want, no watches and no cold rock."

Elizabeth leaned into his touch. "I’m holding you to that."

"Good."