Chapter 244. They Were Lost In Love-Making... Not Knowing Lia Was Listening**
The overflow was relentless, a visible sign of how thoroughly he had claimed her.
As the last of his tremors subsided, William’s strength began to waver. Slowly, tenderly, he lowered her body, releasing her thighs from his grip and guiding her back onto the mattress.
Catherine fell onto her back like a broken doll, her limbs splayed out in exhaustion. Her chest heaved with ragged, desperate breaths, and her skin was flushed a deep, feverish pink.
Her eyes were glassy, unfocused, and unfathomably satisfied. Her consciousness was fraying at the edges, slipping away into a warm, hazy void.
She looked up at the ceiling, a dazed, lopsided smile stretching across her lips as she felt the heavy, warm fullness still pulsing inside her.
"Haahh... haahh..." she whispered, her voice barely audible, a faint thread of sound in the quiet room. Her eyes fluttered, struggling to stay open. "Massages... mmmph... massages are the best..."
A shuddering breath escaped her as she felt the last of the overflow trickling down her leg. "I’m so full... I feel it... I could get pregnant... ahh..."
With those final, delirious words, her eyelids grew heavy and finally closed. Her breathing slowed into the deep, rhythmic cadence of someone who had been pushed to the absolute edge of existence and had finally found peace in the aftermath.
She drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep, completely undone by the storm they had created together.
The silence that followed Catherine’s collapse was brief, broken only by the wet, rhythmic sounds of William’s body still responding to the climax. With one final, shuddering groan, William pulled his cock free from her swollen, dripping pussy.
The sound of his exit was unmistakable: a wet, sucking PLOP that echoed in the room.
Even as he withdrew, his body refused to stop.
"Fuck... oh god..." he gasped, his hips bucking one last time.
A final, powerful stream of semen shot forth, but instead of landing inside her, it arched through the air. He began to shower Catherine’s body with his release, the thick white fluid splattering across her flushed stomach, her heaving breasts, and her parted lips.
SPLAT... SHHHH... PFFFT~
Each droplet landed with a soft sound against her glistening skin.
Catherine, still half conscious and lost in a haze of post-orgasmic bliss, didn’t flinch. Instead, a dazed, angelic smile spread across her face.
The sensation of the warm liquid cascading over her felt like a benediction, a final seal on the claiming he had just performed. She felt cherished, overwhelmed, and utterly complete.
William collapsed beside her, his muscles twitching with residual exhaustion. He reached out, pulling her limp, slick body against his own. His arms wrapped around her in a possessive embrace, his skin sliding against hers with a wet, squelching sound.
"I’ve got you, Catherine..." he whispered hoarsely, pressing a kiss to her sweaty temple. "I’ve got you."
But while the bedroom was a sanctuary of exhausted intimacy for them, the house itself was far from quiet.
Downstairs, Lia sat frozen on the guest room bed, her own breathing ragged and uneven. She had been alone in the guest room, her hand still warm from the frantic masturbation she had just been performing while listening to them through the ceiling.
Every thrust, every guttural roar from William, and every high-pitched, desperate scream from Catherine had been playing like a vivid, explicit movie behind her closed eyelids. She had been riding her own climax to the rhythm of their violence, her own moans muffled by her palm.
Now, the aftershocks of their noise still seemed to vibrate in the walls.
"Oh my god... oh fuck..." Lia whimpered, her voice trembling.
The sounds of William’s final eruption and Catherine’s delirious laughter felt like they were happening right next to her ear. She grabbed the nearest pillow and pressed it hard against both ears, squeezing it tight, but it couldn’t drown out the memory of those sounds, the primal, animalistic sounds of two people completely losing their humanity to lust.
She felt like an intruder in her own home, a voyeur to something sacred and terrifying. The raw intensity of what she had heard, the way Catherine had begged to be ruined, and the way William had sounded like a predator claiming prey left her feeling hollow and exposed.
A wave of bitter insecurity washed over her. She pulled her knees to her chest, curling into a ball on the bed.
"How... how could I ever..." she whispered to the empty room, her eyes filling with tears of frustration and longing. "How could I ever be worthy of him?"
Her mind raced with images of Catherine: the way she had taken every inch of him, the way she had screamed until her voice broke, the way she had been completely undone by his strength.
Lia looked down at her own body, feeling small and inadequate. Catherine seemed like some goddess of pleasure, someone capable of weathering William’s storm, while Lia felt like she would be shattered by the mere first touch of such intensity.
"She’s so... she’s so perfect for him," Lia choked out, a sob catching in her throat. "And I’m just... I’m nothing compared to that."
The house fell into a heavy, charged silence, but for Lia, the echoes of their wild, animalistic mating continued to ring in her ears, leaving her trapped between a desperate desire to join them and a paralyzing fear that she could never match the madness they had unleashed.
Lia lay curled on the bed, the pillow still pressed against her ears as if she could physically block out the lingering echoes of the upstairs chaos.
Eventually, the adrenaline from her own frantic masturbation began to drain away, leaving her body feeling heavy and boneless. Her breathing gradually slowed, the ragged gasps smoothing out into something resembling sleep.
But sleep would not come easily.
Every time she closed her eyes, the darkness behind her eyelids wasn’t empty; it was filled with the ghosts of what she had heard. She could still hear the wet slap of skin on skin and the way William’s voice had dropped into that terrifyingly attractive growl.
But more than that, her mind kept drifting backward, away from the violence of the bedroom, to a moment that had been quieter, yet far more dangerous to her composure.
Her mind wandered to the earlier part of the evening, the massage.
A deep, involuntary blush crept up her neck, spreading across her cheeks like wildfire. She remembered the way William had leaned in close, the heat radiating off his massive frame as he hovered over her.
She remembered the way his breath had tickled her ear, smelling faintly of mint and something primal. At that moment, he had been so close to her lips—so close that she could have reached up and claimed him herself.
She had felt the unspoken promise in the air, the charged tension that suggested the massage was merely a prelude to something far more consuming.
Her heart gave a sudden, violent thump against her ribs.
"Oh god," she whispered into the darkness of the living room, pressing the back of her hand against her chest. "Why does he have to be like that?"
The memory made her stomach flip with a nauseating mix of anxiety and desperate arousal.
If she had let it happen, if she had leaned into that kiss, would she have been able to handle him?
Would she have screamed like Catherine, or would she have simply broken under the weight of his desire?
The question haunted her, making her pulse race faster.
"No, no, no... stop it, Lia... Stop thinking about it." She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, forcing herself to breathe deeply. "You can’t go around daydreaming about him like some lovestruck teenager."
She knew she needed to regain control. Tomorrow wasn’t just any day; it was the day of the advanced combat training, a grueling session that would test every ounce of her physical and mental endurance.
If she showed up tomorrow looking flustered, red-faced, and distracted, she would fail both as a swordswoman and as someone who wanted to stand beside William as an equal.
"Tomorrow has to be different," she told herself firmly, her voice a tiny murmur in the quiet house. "Tomorrow, I have to be sharp... I have to be disciplined."
She made a silent vow to herself: she would act completely normal. She would not mention the noise from upstairs.
She would not mention the way her own body had betrayed her tonight. She would put on her training gear, she would focus on her strikes and her breathing, and she would treat William with the professional respect she always did.
She would pretend that she hadn’t spent the last hour listening to his every moan and every wet thrust.
She needed to make him forget about today. She needed to erase the image of Catherine in his mind by proving her own strength, her own capability.
If she could show him she was a weapon, perhaps he would stop looking at her as something fragile that needed protection and start seeing her as something that could withstand his storm.
"Just act normal," she repeated like a mantra as she finally began to drift toward unconsciousness. "Focus on the training... Focus on the discipline..."
"Tomorrow... tomorrow I’ll be ready."
With that last thought, her body finally surrendered to exhaustion, her mind slipping into a troubled sleep where dreams of training drills fought against vivid, unwanted memories of heat, skin, and the devastating promise of William’s touch.