Lust Meter System: Conquering Beauties

"Liam."

Her voice came out in a whisper that had almost nothing behind it, just his name arriving on whatever breath she had available, her lips barely moving.

He was already on one knee beside her, his hand finding her shoulder.

"You’re okay," he said. "I’m here. You’re okay."

He looked at her properly.

Her blonde hair was damp against her face and the floor, pressed flat by sweat, strands stuck across her cheek and her neck.

Her skin was flushed and wet, the shirt she was wearing, white and thin, clinging to everything it covered, the torn shoulder hanging loose, the fabric pulled tight across her chest and damp enough to show every outline beneath it.

Her legs were bare from mid-thigh down, her breathing shallow and fast, her chest rising and falling with the specific rhythm of someone whose body was working hard at something it should not be having to work hard at.

He looked above her head.

Two hearts. The third one dark and empty.

’Stella was here,’ he thought. ’She came here after Tasha and Grace. She went through all three of them and tried to do to Kelly what she did to the others.’ He looked at Kelly’s face, at the sweat on it, at the effort behind every breath. ’But Kelly fought it. Or her body fought it. And whatever the fight cost her it cost her this.’

He got his arms under her, one behind her shoulders and one beneath her knees, and lifted her from the floor in one steady motion.

She was lighter than he expected and heavier than she should have felt, the weight of someone whose body was not currently cooperating with anything being asked of it.

He carried her to the couch and lowered her onto it slowly, making sure her head found the armrest, her body settling against the cushions, her legs stretching out along the length of it.

He pressed his palm to her forehead.

Hot. Genuinely hot, the kind of temperature that had been building for a while, the skin of her forehead dry and burning under his hand.

He straightened up and went to the kitchen.

He opened the fridge. Some fruit in a bowl on the second shelf, grapes and something sliced. A carton of milk.

Leftover something in a container he did not open. He looked in the freezer section above it and found what he was looking for, a gel ice pack sitting flat against the back of the compartment, the kind that had been in there long enough to be properly frozen.

He grabbed it and came back.

He went to the bedroom and pulled the blanket from the end of her bed, a thick knitted one that had been folded there, and came back to the living room and unfolded it across her, tucking it around her carefully, working from her feet up to her shoulders, making sure none of her was exposed to the cool air of the apartment.

Then he pressed the ice pack gently against her forehead.

She made a small sound.

Her eyes opened slightly.

"Hi," he said.

Her lips moved.

He leaned forward to hear it.

Her hand came up.

It found the front of his jacket and gripped it, the grip surprising him with its force given the state she was in, and before he had processed what was happening she had pulled him forward and her mouth found his.

She kissed him hard. Not the way she usually kissed him.

There was something urgent underneath it, desperate even, her hand in his jacket pulling him toward her rather than inviting him, her lips pressing against his with a force that her general state should not have been capable of producing.

He started to pull back.

Her grip tightened.

’Is this the effect,’ he thought, not pulling away but not going further either, his hands on either side of her on the couch. ’Is this what Stella did when she tried to remove the connection and it didn’t fully work. Did she leave something behind in Kelly. Something that is now doing this.’

A notification appeared at the edge of his vision.

He pulled back far enough to focus on it.

System text, flat and direct.

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]

[If she does not reach climax three times within the hour the remaining heart will collapse. She will not survive it.]

He read it once.

He looked at Kelly below him, her hand still in his jacket, her chest rising and falling, her flushed face and her damp hair and the torn shoulder of the shirt and the blanket he had just put on her.

He stopped fighting it.

He reached up and gently removed her hand from his jacket and held it in both of his for a moment, then set it down at her side. He pulled the blanket back slowly, folding it to her waist, and looked at her.

The shirt was damp and thin and the torn shoulder had left that side almost completely exposed, the fabric hanging away from her skin. He reached for the hem of it and she lifted her arms slightly, understanding, and he pulled it over her head carefully and set it aside.

She was lying there in the low light of the apartment with her chest bare and her breathing still fast, the flush sitting deep across her skin from her collarbones down across her chest, her boobs moving with each breath, her nipples hard from the cool air that had reached her when the shirt came off.

He put his hand flat on her sternum and felt her heart rate beneath it.

Too fast.

"I’ve got you," he said. "Just stay with me."

He moved his hand slowly, spreading it across her chest, feeling the warmth of her skin under his palm, and then he pressed both hands across her boobs, warm and deliberate, his thumbs finding her nipples.

She made a sound that was not the whisper of before. Something with more in it.

He worked slowly, his hands moving with care rather than urgency, feeling her body start to respond beneath them, her breathing changing from the shallow fast rhythm of the fever toward something deeper, her back arching slightly off the cushion.

He lowered his mouth to her chest and pressed his lips to the top of one and then worked downward, his tongue finding her nipple, pressing flat against it and then circling.

"Oh," she said. The word arriving with actual volume behind it for the first time since he had come in.

He kept going, his mouth moving between them, his hands spreading across her stomach and then back up, keeping the warmth moving across her body, feeling the fever working against what he was doing and feeling what he was doing start to win.

He moved one hand down from her stomach.

His fingers found the waistband of what she was wearing below the blanket and he worked it down slowly, her hips lifting slightly to help without her saying anything.

He looked at her.

She looked back at him with her eyes more present than they had been since he arrived, the specific quality returning to them, the colour coming back into her face in a way that was different from the fever flush, warmer and less strained.

He pressed two fingers against her slowly.

Not inside yet. Just against her pussy through the wet fabric of her panties, feeling the hot warmth of her body, pressing lightly and holding to let her feel him before he did anything else.

She exhaled.

He watched her face.

The flush was still high on her cheekbones, but it was changing now, shifting from the hot dry fever into a deep wet heat that was responding to his touch.

He pressed a little firmer into her pussy.

Her hips tilted forward, her body moving before her brain could even stop it.

He kept the pressure right there, taking his time. His other hand stayed flat against her chest, his palm cupping her boob while his thumb rubbed slow circles over her hard nipple. He kept both hands moving at the exact same slow pace, feeling her body soak in the touch and get wetter.

"Mm," she moaned softly to herself.

He moved his fingers slowly over the fabric, rubbing back and forth, finding the spots that made her squirm and staying right on them.

She pressed her pussy back against his hand.

He kept going.

Another minute went by like that. His fingers kept rubbing her through her underwear while her breathing got deeper and heavier. Her chest rose and fell fast as her pussy throbbed under his palm.

Then he pulled her panties aside.

He pressed his fingers straight against her bare, wet pussy. She was dripping, her body hot and completely ready for him without even being asked.

She let out a soft gasp.

He stayed right there, not moving yet. Just letting his bare fingers rest on her wet clit and lips, his palm warm against the inside of her thigh, letting her feel his touch skin-to-skin.

She shifted her hips, searching for him.

He slid his middle finger right onto her swollen clit and pressed down lightly.

"Oh," she said, her voice louder now.

He pressed a little harder and started rolling his finger over her clit in a slow circle. He felt her whole body twitch and react to every tiny bit of pressure. He watched her face and listened to her breath, staying right on the exact spot that made her moan the hardest.

His thumb rubbed her wet lips while his finger kept circling her clit. She made a needy, slurring sound that wasn’t even a word.

"Oh god," she whined.

He kept his pace steady and slow. He didn’t speed up. He didn’t rush. He just held that sweet, hard pressure right on her clit, letting her get completely worked up and dirty under his hand.

Her hand reached down and grabbed his wrist.

She wasn’t trying to push him away. She just needed something to hold onto. Her fingers wrapped around his skin, feeling the steady movement of his hand as he rubbed her.

"Mm," she whimpered. "Oh. Right there."

He stayed right on her clit.

He felt her pussy start to pulse and tighten under his touch. Her hips began to ride his hand, pushing up into every slow circle he made over her clit. Her grip on his wrist got tight and needy.

"Oh," she gasped. "Oh Liam."

He pinched his thumb and finger together slightly, putting just a tiny bit more pressure directly on her clit. Her wet pussy clamped down and throbbed instantly.

"Oh god," she cried out. "Oh. That’s so good."

He kept it right there, holding the pressure firm, keeping the slow circle continuous and patient.

He let her build up to the edge, giving her clit the exact attention it needed instead of rushing her.

Her back arched up off the couch.Her nails dug into his wrist.

"Oh," she panted. "Oh. Oh I’m going to cum."

He held his finger locked right on her clit and didn’t slow down or stop for a second.

"Oh god," she screamed softly. "Oh. Liam. Oh."

She came hard.

Her whole body clamped shut, her pussy pulsing wildly against his fingers as her hips locked high in the air.

She held tight to his wrist, letting out a long, loud moan that shook her whole chest. Wave after wave of her orgasm crashed through her until her pussy finally stopped throbbing, her hips sank back into the cushion, and she went totally limp.

He kept his fingers resting gently on her wet clit through all of it, letting her ride out every last pulse before he pulled away.

Then he slowly slid his hand out from between her legs and looked up at her.

She lay back on the couch, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. The sick fever heat was still there but she looked better

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