Academy's Pervert in the D Class-Chapter 101: wooden

Lor crossed the room in three quick strides, his feet silent on the wooden floor, and eased the curtain aside, fingers brushing the fabric as he cracked the window open, expecting—he didn’t know what.

And then—

"Olivia?" he whispered, shock lacing his voice, his hazel eyes widening as he took her in.

_______

Hours earlier...

Olivia stormed through the threshold of her family estate, tossing her bag down without care, the leather thudding against the marble floor like a discarded thought.

Her footsteps echoed off the grand halls as she moved fast—too fast—barely greeting the maid with a curt nod before slamming her bedroom door behind her, the wood rattling in its frame.

Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding as frustration boiled in her chest, her light brown wavy bob swaying with each furious step.

She didn’t get a moment with him.

Not even one.

Not during class, not after, not in the hallway.

Kiara was glued to him like some smug leech, hoarding him like Lor was hers. Like she’d branded him.

That bitch had coiled herself around him like heat on iron, sucking up all his time, attention, and probably—

Olivia growled, her fingers already working at the button of her pants, popping it open with a sharp flick, her hazel eyes burning with pent-up rage and need.

She dropped onto her bed, sliding the tight charcoal-gray trousers off her round hips in one aggressive motion, the fabric dragging against her smooth skin, revealing her lacy white panties—simple but sheer, the material clinging to her mound, already damp with frustration, the outline of her pussy lips visible through the thin fabric where her arousal had begun to soak in.

Her thighs parted slightly as she kicked the pants away, her round hips settling into the soft sheets, wide and inviting, curving out from her slender waist like a promise of softness.

Her hand slid down, slipping under the elastic of her panties, fingers searching through the warm, slick folds of her pussy—but her body didn’t respond.

Not fully.

Her clit throbbed a little, yes, swollen and sensitive under her touch, but her mind—

Her mind wasn’t there.

It was back at the spell precision tournament, with her straddling Lor’s face, his tongue fucking her like he wanted to drown in her, lapping at her pussy with relentless hunger, his hands gripping her thighs as they shook, her juices coating his mouth while he devoured her until she came so hard she nearly blacked out, her walls clenching around nothing but the memory of his heat.

Her breath hitched, fingers circling her clit faster now, rubbing the slick nub in tight, desperate loops, her pussy lips parting under the pressure, wetness coating her fingers as she arched her back, her full breasts straining against her blouse.

But, before she could get on.

Came the shame.

The guilt.

Twisting like a knife in her gut.

She hadn’t even spoken to him in three days.

Hadn’t looked at him directly.

She’d watched from afar, like some shy schoolgirl, all while Kiara draped herself on him in full view.

Olivia had let it happen.

Pretended she didn’t care, even as her pussy ached watching them, imagining Lor’s tongue on her instead.

Her fingers circled harder, but her mind pulled back again.

Frustrated, she ripped her shirt off, buttons popping in her haste, unclasped her bra with a snap, letting her curves spill free—full soft breasts, nipples hardening into pink peaks in the cool air.

She rolled them between her fingers, pinching sharply, twisting the sensitive buds until pain mingled with pleasure, her back arching off the bed, hips bucking into her hand as she rubbed her clit faster, her pussy clenching around nothing, slick sounds filling the room as her fingers dipped lower, teasing her entrance, sliding in just the tip before pulling back, her round hips grinding against the sheets in desperate need.

She whimpered, her hazel eyes squeezing shut, her wavy bob splaying across the pillow like a halo of frustration.

Her clit ached, her hole was wet and throbbing, but it wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t working.

She needed more—deeper, harder, something to fill the void Lor had left.

A last resort.

She bit her lip, her free hand trailing down past her slick pussy, fingers brushing the tight, puckered hole of her ass, the forbidden spot she’d never explored, her body tensing with a mix of taboo excitement and nerves.

Her pussy clenched in anticipation, juices dripping down to lubricate the path, her round hips lifting slightly off the bed as she circled the rim, teasing the sensitive skin, the sensation sending sparks up her spine, her clit pulsing harder under her other hand.

She hesitated, breath hitching, her thighs quivering as she pressed a single finger against the tight ring, feeling it give slightly, the warmth enveloping her finger.

Slowly, carefully, she pushed in—one fingertip breaching the resistance, the heat and tightness making her gasp, her pussy flooding with fresh arousal as the new sensation built, her walls clenching in rhythm, her clit throbbing under frantic rubs.

She gasped, her body arching, the fullness strange but intoxicating, her finger sliding deeper, the stretch burning sweetly as she rocked her hips, fucking herself slowly on her own finger, her pussy dripping onto her hand, the slick sounds mixing with her whimpers.

Her full breasts bounced with each thrust, nipples tight and aching, her mind flooding with images of Lor—his tongue, his fingers, his cock filling her instead.

Almost.

Almost.

Then her body stiffened.

Her breath caught—but not in pleasure.

She pulled her finger back out, wiping her hands fast on the sheets, hating the emptiness inside her, the frustration boiling over as her pussy clenched around nothing, still aching, still unsatisfied.

It wasn’t enough.

None of it was.

She stared at the ceiling, flushed and furious, her slick pussy throbbing, her panties discarded on the floor, soaked and forgotten.

Only one option left.

She dressed in the darkest clothes she could find—black top hugging her full curves, soft gray pants clinging to her round hips, her boots near silent on the floor.

A cloak thrown over her shoulders, hair tied back tight in her wavy bob.

She didn’t even wait.

The moon was high when she slipped out of the estate and headed straight to Lor’s home, hunger rising like a fire in her belly.

She needed to see him.

She needed him to see her.