Morgana kept her hips pressed against Damon’s hand, guiding his fingers deeper into the damp cleft of her panties, where the sticky heat of her arousal engulfed them like a hungry vortex.

Her full lips parted in a low, lingering moan, the sound echoing in the confined space of the fitting room like a siren of lust.

She felt each callus of his calloused fingers brushing against her inner walls, stretching her, filling her with a delicious pressure that made her tremble.

But then, she stopped suddenly, pulling her hips away with a fluid, provocative movement, leaving his fingers slippery and lonely in the air.

Her golden eyes, still ablaze with desire, locked onto his with a mixture of amusement and feline cunning.

She licked her lips slowly, savoring the moment, while her hand—now free—slid down, tracing the rigid, throbbing line of his erection through his tight pants.

Her fingers pressed firmly, feeling his cock pulsing beneath the leather, thick and insistent, a wet stain spreading even further.

“You’re so tense, Damon,” she murmured, her voice a husky, mocking purr, as she massaged its length with slow, circular motions, squeezing the base where it throbbed most strongly.

“All stiff down here… and still pretending to resist. Relax, knight. Let me take care of this.” Her skillful fingers unzipped his pants with an audible click, freeing his erect cock which sprang out—thick, veiny, the swollen, red head glistening with pre-cum that dripped from the glans.

She enveloped him with her red lace-gloved hand (no, it was just his imagination running wild), slowly masturbating him from wrist to tip, spreading the viscous fluid like natural lubricant.

Damon groaned loudly, his hips involuntarily thrusting forward, fucking her hand for more friction.

“Morgana… shit, stop playing around,” he growled, his voice deep and broken, his large hands gripping her hips to pull her back against him.

She laughed again, that guttural, sensual sound reverberating in her chest, as she quickened the pace of the handjob, her thumb circling the sensitive head of his penis, pressing the frenulum with cruel precision.

“I thought about not being so direct, you know?” she confessed, leaning in to brush her lips against his, her warm breath mingling with the musky scent of sex that filled the air.

Her nearly bare breasts, with stiff nipples peeking out from the lace openings, brushed against his chest with each panting breath.

“I almost restrained myself, feigning modesty… but you seemed to be losing interest in me. Looking at those stupid gloves out there, as if I wasn’t enough to keep you here.”

Her golden eyes narrowed defiantly as she squeezed his cock tighter, pumping now urgently, feeling it swell even more in her palm.

“But look… now you’re all mine. Say you want me, Damon. Say you’ve thought about fucking you like this ever since you first saw me.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. With an animalistic growl, Damon spun her against the fitting room wall, his enormous hands tearing the red lace of her panties with an audible snap.

The already exposed slit made everything easier—he aligned his throbbing cock with her moist entrance, her swollen lips parting to receive him like a wet invitation. In one thrust, he sank halfway in, feeling her walls contract in hot spasms around him, sucking him in like a vacuum of pleasure.

“Ah, fuck… you’re so tight,” he groaned, biting her neck as he began to thrust, slowly at first, each stroke cracking against her flesh, the wet sound echoing in the cramped space.

Morgana arched her back, her nails digging into his back through his shirt, her moans mingling with his—loud, uncontrolled, ignoring the risk of being heard.

She thrust her hips back, meeting each thrust, her exposed clitoris rubbing against the base of his cock with each collision.

“Harder… fuck me like I’m your trap, knight,” she whispered, her golden eyes rolling in ecstasy as orgasm approached, her inner walls tightening like a fist around him.

The fitting room trembled with their force, the curtain swaying dangerously, but neither of them cared.

Damon sped up, pounding deep, his balls slamming against her buttocks, the climax building like an inevitable storm…

Morgana bit her lower lip hard enough to leave a pink mark, but the pleasure was too overwhelming—each deep thrust from Damon made her arch her back against the mirrored wall of the fitting room, her breasts swaying freely in the openings of the red lace, stiff nipples brushing the cool air like sparks of electricity.

His cock filled her completely, thick and relentless, stretching her inner walls in rhythmic spasms that brought her to the edge.

The wet sound of their fucking echoed too loudly—slap-slap-slap against her flesh, mixed with the thick smell of sweat, excitement, and expensive perfume.

She knew they were risking everything. The store outside buzzed with distant voices of customers and the clinking of hangers, the doorbell ringing sporadically like an alarm.

A loud moan escaped her, guttural and uncontrollable, and Damon covered her mouth with a large, calloused hand, his fingers pressing against her soft lips while his other hand gripped her waist, holding her in place to thrust even deeper.

But Morgana, ever the tease, pushed his hand away with a wicked smile on her swollen lips.

She brought her own hand to her mouth, her long, elegant fingers covering her parted lips, muffling the moans bubbling in her throat.

Her golden eyes, glazed with lust, locked onto his through the mirror in front of them—a double vision of them fucking like animals: her in torn lingerie, panties stretched to the side with the exposed slit revealing his cock entering and exiting her soaked cunt, her pink lips opening obscenely with each thrust; him behind her, trousers down to his knees, tense muscles glistening with sweat, his cock glistening with her juices.

“Mmmph… yes, like that…” she moaned against her palm, the muffled sound transforming into sensual vibrations that Damon felt reverberating through her to his buried cock.

Her hips thrust back furiously, meeting each of his thrusts, her swollen clitoris rubbing against her fingers now—she slid them down, under her hand in her mouth, circling the sensitive button as he fucked her mercilessly.

Her other hand reached back, digging her nails into his buttocks, pulling him deeper, forcing him to hit her cervix with each plunge.

Damon grunted low, the hoarse sound in her ear, biting her exposed earlobe as he quickened the pace.

“Damn, you’re dangerous… squeezing me like that,” he whispered, feeling her walls pulse and contract like a living fist, sucking his cock into an imminent orgasm. He slid a hand forward, tearing further into the lace of her corset to expose one breast completely—a pink, erect nipple—pinching it hard, twisting until she writhed and bit her own hand to keep from screaming.

The mirror captured everything: the sweat running down her bare back, her dark hair clinging to her pale skin, her vagina stretched around his thick member, juices running down her thighs to her fishnet stockings.

Morgana came first—violently, uncontrollably—her body convulsing as her inner walls tightened in rhythmic spasms around his penis, squirting a hot jet that ran down her legs.

Her eyes rolled back, her hand over her mouth muffling a scream that still escaped like an animal purr, her teeth marking her palm.

Damon couldn’t resist. With a muffled groan against her neck, he thrust deep one last time, his cock swelling before exploding—thick, hot jets of cum flooding her cunt, overflowing her exposed slit and dripping onto the fitting room floor.

He kept thrusting through her orgasm, milking every drop inside her, their hips colliding in final tremors as they both gasped, pressed together.

Slowly, she removed her hand from her mouth, licking her damp fingers with a predatory grin, turning her face to kiss him with renewed hunger.

“See? I told you it was a trap…,” she whispered, feeling his cum trickle down her thighs as his still half-erect cock throbbed inside her. “Now clean this up before someone comes in. Or do you want a third round?”

…

“Why do you have that look on your face?” Ester asked, crossing her arms as she watched Lily sitting on the garden bench. The morning sun streamed through the leaves above them, but nothing there was as irritating as that silly smile, too satisfied to be innocent.

Lily tilted her head slightly, her lips curved in a lazy, almost proud smile.

“I think… I used my powers correctly this time.”

Ester frowned, immediately suspicious.

“…What?”

Without answering immediately, Lily raised one hand and made a small gesture in the air. The mana condensed into a translucent surface, a simple transmission magic—too small to be serious, but vivid enough to show exactly what Lily wanted.

Ester froze.

The image was short, too clear, and utterly inappropriate to be seen in broad daylight. It was Damon’s penis going in and out of Morgana… there was no sound, but it didn’t need to. Everything there spoke for itself.

“What did you—,” Ester began, but the sentence died before she finished.

Lily watched her reaction with genuine, almost scientific attention.

“I just gave it a little push,” Lily said casually, as if commenting on adjusting the seasoning of a dish. “A magical adjustment here, another there… nothing invasive.”

Ester turned sharply to her, her face flushing with shock and disbelief.

“You interfered with that?”

Lily put her hand to her chin, thoughtful, her eyes still shining.

“Maybe I overdid it a little,” she admitted with a low laugh. “But let’s face it… if it was going to happen, it might as well happen right, shouldn’t it?”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep