Luck let out a low groan as Neve's tongue explored his base.
"You're getting good at this," he murmured, guiding her head before releasing into her mouth.
She swallowed her seed with an obedient gulp, tongue flicking out to clean him with a thoroughness that surprised him
Neve paused, lips still pressed to his softening length, and looked up through her lashes as if awaiting instructions.
Stroking the back of her neck, he murmured, "You did that well... Now turn around."
She turned, revealing her soft ass.
He held her hips with his hands and slowly pressed himself into the humid dampness between her legs.
Neve whimpered—louder than she meant to, but he always coaxed the most shameful noises from her.
Luck started slow, letting each stroke register in the trembling muscle of her thighs.
Rather than rushing in, he let the moment stretch, teasing her from behind.
His thumbs kneaded into the hard tension at the dip where her thighs met her butt, rolling circles as he ground gently against her.
"Please... stop teasing me," she begged.
He enjoyed the small gasps she made, the way her body tried to push back against him, greedy for more, until finally, when she was wet and open, he slid in.
"Mmm" Neve moaned.
He worked into her inch by inch, savoring how she tried to muffle her cries, but failed in the end.
Luck kept one hand on her hip and used the other to reach under, fingers working along with his base.
When she came ,she sobbed a little—genuine and uncontrolled, no act at all, and he felt pride surge through him.
He gave her a moment, rocking with her through the aftershocks, then pulled her up by the shoulders so her back pressed to his chest.
Kissing the back of her neck, he tasted the salt near her hairline
"Gone already?" he teased.
She shook her head, and began moving her hips faster.
He ran his hands up her belly, found her breasts, cupping them gently. "Do you want more?"
"Yes," she muttered, the word was so thin it vanished before it reached the air.
He continued to pound her like he was trying to memorize her; slow, greedy, unhurried, the way a sommelier might savor a long-preserved vintage before letting it settle on the tongue.
When he came again, it overflowed her inside.
She didn't know how long they stayed like that—their bodies locked and slick, the sweat cooling and drying on her shoulders, the weight of him pressing down so she felt like a pinned specimen.
They continued without pause—immersed in each other until time faded away, her body imprinted by every shuddering climax.
.
.
.
Three Hours Later.
Luck stared at his laptop. He wanted to spend more time with her, but right now, something else needed his attention—sleeping with her stepmother to earn EC points.
'When is she coming?' he muttered, clicking his tongue in frustration.
If only he could leave the motel area, he would go find her himself.
It didn't help that the timer kept counting down in front of him.
The ticking seconds made him restless.
He heard a rustling noise and stood up, feeling excited.
However, when he stepped outside, he was met by four heavily armed dwarves—one wielding a mace, another with a long hammer, and the others holding various weapons.
Each dwarf wore a different color—yellow, brown, black, and gray beneath their bronze armors.
"Hey, you," the black-clad dwarf growled, his voice harsh. "Where are our brothers?"
The dwarf in brown slammed his hammer's end into the ground. "Talk now, or we'll crack your knees and rip the truth from your skull."
Luck took a deep breath. He was hoping for the evil stepmother—not four street thug wannabes.
"You little shits better get the hell out while I'm still asking nice—or you'll end up like your three dead brothers."
The yellow dwarf spat onto the ground. "You're bluffing. Our brothers could whip your ass with their pinkies."
"Yeah?" Luck asked, his voice flat. "Ask them. Green, Red, and Blue.. Oh right—you can't, I massacred them."
That seemed to catch the group by surprise.
"KILL HIM!"
The gray dwarf roared and charged, mace raised overhead.
Luck barely stepped aside, then swung his sword in one motion—taking the dwarf's head off.
"Too low level to fight me," he muttered, flicking the blood from his blade. "Go grind some XP first."
The remaining dwarves hesitated, their bravado breaking.
The yellow one—a head taller and probably their leader—actually took a step back, boots scraping the ground.
"Holy shit," he hissed, eyes flicking from Luck's blade to the twitching, headless body. "He's not bluffing, boys—he's a fuckin' psycho!"
"Well?" Luck cocked his head. "I can do this all day."
Instead of running, the remaining three huddled together to form a plan.
He always found it funny how no matter the world, the species, or the color, some idiots just couldn't read the room.
The yellow and brown dwarves began whisper-fighting, heads ducked together.
Luck could hear every word.
"He can't take us three," hissed Brown.
"Didn't you see what he did to our brother?" Yellow shot back, voice wavering. "He didn't even look. He just—just did it!"
"Don't chicken out! Remember we own this forest!"
Luck interrupted, "If you're going to try a flanking maneuver, you should really be quieter. "
The yellow dwarf sneered, reached into a satchel, and tossed a heavy cloth on the ground.
Black unzipped it, and a nest of crossbow limbs and bolts tumbled out. They came prepared.
"Not a damn chance," he growled, lunging before they had time to aim.
But a smoke bomb burst at his feet, blinding him in a cloud of acrid fog.
The world vanished behind a wall of smoke, and his lungs seared as he pushed blindly.
A split second later, a crossbow bolt hissed past his cheek.
"Fuck," he wanted to use his gun, but he couldn't even see his opponents.
***
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Authors Note:
1 Bonus Chapter per 100 Power Stones
1 Bonus Chapter per 10 Golden Tickets