Chapter 162| A Gentleman’s Manners R18+

Chapter 162: Chapter 162| A Gentleman’s Manners R18+

"Want to do more?" Nil asked.

The question hung between them beneath the amber glow of the fairy lights strung across the old dorm ceiling. Somehow, the lights had survived months of neglect, flickering occasionally but refusing to go out completely. Their soft glow filled the room with warmth, making everything beyond the window seem distant.

Zane swallowed. Nil’s cheeks were flushed, and her breathing hadn’t quite returned to normal. She looked at him with an expression that made it difficult for him to remember what he had intended to say.

He knew he should answer her. Instead, he found himself staring at her lips.

"Zane?" Nil prompted, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah?"

"That wasn’t an answer."

"I know." He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling slightly ridiculous. "I’m trying to come up with one that doesn’t make me sound like an idiot."

Nil laughed. "Too late for that."

He gave her a disbelieving look, and her laughter grew louder. The sound eased some of the tension in his chest, though it did nothing to settle his racing heart.

The lamp outside the window flickered once. Beyond the thin walls, the main dormitory had grown unusually quiet. Somewhere down in Arena Two, Maren was probably still putting the others through their drills. They had at least another hour before she finished.

’I should say something’.

But his body had already answered. His hands found her hips,both of them. Deliberate and the flannel of her checkered skirt bunched under his palms. The fabric was soft from too many washes. Beneath it, she was softer.

Nil’s eyes stayed locked on his. She didn’t pull away. Didn’t flinch. Instead, her lips curved into something between a smirk and an invitation.

"Knew you were a bad boy," she said, her voice low and steady. "Guess the rumors were true."

Zane’s hands stilled. "Rumors?" The word came out rougher than he intended. "So Maren really talks about.."

"Maren talks about everything." Nil stepped closer. Her oversized hoodie swallowed her frame, the sleeves falling past her wrists, and when she reached up to trace the line of his jaw, the cuff brushed his collar. "Especially the things you do in the dark."

His heart hammered. The pads of her fingers moved along his chin, feather-light, and his cock pressed hard against the seam of his trousers. ’This is happening. She’s right here. This is happening’. Zane’s thoughts began swirling.

"Won’t you take it off?" she asked.

The question landed like a challenge. Zane rose from the edge of the bed, his knees had been locked, he realized, holding him in a half-crouch and reaching for the hem of her hoodie. "Sorry. My manners."

The cotton slid upward. She raised her arms to help, and the hoodie pooled on the floor. Beneath it, nothing but skin. Her breasts sat high and full, the nipples already peaked tight from the cool air or from him, he couldn’t tell which.

He stared. Her ribcage rose and fell with each breath, and the fairy lights painted one side of her chest gold.

"Why are you staring at them like that?" Nil tilted her head. "Suck them already."

Zane’s hands found her waist and guided her backward to the mattress. The springs creaked as she sank onto it, and he followed, one knee between her thighs. When his mouth closed over her left nipple, she exhaled. A long, shuddering sound that vibrated through her chest.

He sucked. Slow at first, then harder, drawing the taut peak between his lips. His tongue circled the areola. He switched to the right, his hand cupping the left where his mouth had been, thumb rolling the wet nipple.

"Zane..."

His name stretched into a moan. Nil’s fingers dug into the back of his head, pressing him closer, and her hips shifted beneath him. Through his trousers, his erection pressed against her thigh—throbbing, insistent, leaking against the fabric.

She felt it. Her pelvis rolled upward in a slow grind that made his breath catch. "You’re so hard."

He didn’t answer. His mouth kept working—sucking, releasing, flicking. Lost in the taste of her skin. The faint salt. The way her breath hitched each time he grazed his teeth along the edge of her nipple.

Then his hand moved. Down her ribs. Across the soft plane of her stomach. Along her thigh, where the checkered skirt had ridden up. His fingers slid beneath the hem and found the damp heat between her legs.

Nil’s hips bucked.

"You’re soaked," he murmured against her breast.

"Fingers," she whispered. "Now." In a low soft erotic voice.

He pulled the cotton of her panties to the side. The fabric dragged against her clit, and she hissed through her teeth. Then his index finger found her entrance—slick, warm and slid inside to the second knuckle.

"Fuck.." The word tore out of Nil as her back arched off the mattress.

Zane watched her face as he moved. In, out. Slow at first, then matching the rhythm her hips demanded. His thumb found her clit and pressed in tight circles while his mouth returned to her nipple, catching it between his lips.

"You’re actually pretty good at this," she gasped.

He added a second finger. The stretch drew a deep moan from her throat, and he felt her inner walls flutter around him—tight, gripping, wet enough that the sound of his fingers moving inside her carried through the silent room.

Her neck arched back. He followed it with his mouth, kissing the line of her throat, dragging his tongue along the tendon. Her pulse hammered against his lips. She tasted faintly of sweat and the vanilla lotion she used after every shower.

"Zane..." Her voice broke. "Zane, I’m.."

He felt it before he understood. The way her hips stuttered. The way her thighs clamped around his hand. The way her breathing went sharp and shallow.

She was close.

And then she grabbed his wrist. Stopped him. Held his fingers still inside her while she panted at the ceiling, chest heaving, the skin above her breasts flushed deep pink.

"Not yet," she said. Her eyes dropped to his. "Take your pants off. I want to see what Maren’s been talking about."

Zane’s fingers slid out of her slowly—deliberately, watching her face as he withdrew. Nil’s breath caught at the loss, her hips chasing his hand for half a second before she caught herself.

He stood. The mattress springs groaned their release. His trousers sat low on his hips, the button straining against the obvious shape beneath the denim. Her eyes tracked the movement as he worked the button free, one-handed, never breaking her gaze.

The zipper sounded loud in the quiet room.

He pushed the jeans down. His boxer briefs followed, and his cock sprang free—thick, curved slightly to the left, the head flushed dark and slick with a bead of pre-cum that caught the fairy lights.

Nil’s lips parted.