Gon's Harem System
Chapter 183: With Zara (18+)

Chapter 183: With Zara (18+)

The door to Gon’s room thudded shut, a heavy echo bouncing off the stone walls as Zara swept inside.

With a flick of her wrist, she tossed her cloak aside, the fabric flaring dramatically before pooling on the floor like spilled ink.

She paced the tight space, restless as a caged wolf, her boots scuffing the worn wooden planks.

The room glowed soft and intimate, candlelight flickering from a stub on a rickety table, casting shadows that danced across the uneven walls.

A creaky bed sat in the corner, its frame groaning faintly under its own weight, while a single narrow window spilled pale moonlight in a silver thread across the floor.

The air hung thick with the scent of melting wax, worn leather, and a faint musk that clung to them both.

Zara turned, smirking as she sized Gon up, her green eyes glinting like a blade’s edge, sharp, predatory, daring him to meet her fire.

Gon slid the bolt into place with a slow, deliberate clack, locking them in.

His gaze stayed steady on her, calm but alight with something deeper, a quiet intensity that said he was ready, though he wouldn’t be rushed.

The space between them crackled, their shared heat coiling tighter with every breath.

Zara struck first, her voice cutting through the stillness like a whip. "Hope you’ve got more than pretty words stashed in here," she said, nodding toward the wooden chest by the bed, though her eyes flicked to his chest, broad, solid beneath his tunic, her tone daring him to prove himself.

Gon leaned back against the cool stone wall, arms crossed, a slow grin tugging at his lips. "Plenty," he replied, voice smooth as honed steel. "Question is, can you handle it when it’s real?"

She stepped closer, circling him slow and deliberate, a hunter sizing up prey, or a rival. "I don’t follow, I lead, don’t you forget it," she shot back, her words edged with a challenge she knew he’d catch.

He tilted his head, unfazed, his grin widening just enough to stoke her fire. "Lead all you want, Zara. I’ll still get you where you’re going."

His voice dropped low, teasing but steady, a promise wrapped in velvet.

She laughed, a short, sharp sound that rang off the walls. "Big talk for a man leaning on a wall. Prove it."

She closed the gap, her breath brushing his jaw, warm and taunting, her presence a spark begging for kindling.

He didn’t flinch, holding her gaze as the air thickened. "Patience," he murmured, "or you’ll burn out before we start."

She smirked, undeterred. "I don’t burn out, I burn through."

Their words snapped and flared, a duel of wills as much as wit, each parry stoking the heat between them higher.

Gon straightened, stepping into her space, his hands hovering near the hem of her tunic.

She cocked her head, smirking, permission granted, and he lifted it slow, fingers brushing her ribs, tracing the curve of her waist, lingering just long enough to feel her shiver beneath his touch.

His movements were deliberate, testing her edges.

She shoved him back, sudden and rough, her hands yanking his tunic up and off, nails raking down his chest in a quick, claiming scrape that left faint red lines.

He caught her wrist mid-motion, pulling her flush against him, lips finding her neck, soft at first, then wet, teeth grazing the pulse there as she gripped his hair, tugging hard. "Show me, then," she whispered, voice husky with demand.

He sank to one knee, unlacing her boots with deft, careful fingers, pressing a kiss to her calf, then the tender hollow of her inner knee, his eyes flicking up to catch the flare in hers.

She kicked the boots off impatiently, shoving him toward the bed with a grin.

Her hands flew to her pants, stripping them down in one swift motion, daring him to keep up.

He rose, shedding his own layers as they stumbled together, a tangle of limbs and half-laughs, her pushing, him guiding, until they hit the bed, the creak of it loud in the charged silence.

Zara shoved Gon onto the bed with a force that made the frame creak, the straw mattress dipping under his weight.

She swung a leg over him, straddling his hips, her thighs clamping tight against his sides.

Her hands shot to his wrists, pinning them above his head with a grip like iron, her nails digging into his skin just enough to sting.

Through the thin barrier of her undercloth, she ground her core against his rod, the friction deliberate and commanding, heat radiating where their bodies pressed.

Her dark hair fell wild around her face, framing the smirk that curled her lips as she leaned down, her breath hot against his ear. "Not so fast," she growled, her voice low and rough, a challenge laced with hunger.

She rolled her hips again, slow and assertive, letting him feel her control, her dominance in the way she held him beneath her.

The candlelight flickered across her taut frame, shadows playing over the curves of muscle and the faint scars that marked her skin, a warrior’s body, unyielding and alive with intent.

Gon lay still for a moment, his chest rising and falling steady under her weight, his eyes locked on hers, calm, but simmering with something dangerous.

He let her lead, let her savor the upper hand, until the tension coiled too tight to hold.

With a sudden, fluid twist, he broke free of her grip, his hands sliding to her waist as he rolled her beneath him in one smooth, practiced flip.

The bed groaned under the shift, and she landed on her back with a sharp exhale, his body now pinning hers, his control subtle but unshakeable, a quiet strength that didn’t need to shout.

He dipped his head, lips brushing her neck, soft at first, then slow and wet, tasting the salt of her skin.

His kisses trailed lower, lingering at her collarbone, where he sucked lightly, drawing a faint red mark as his teeth grazed her.

One hand slid down her body, cupping her core over the damp fabric of her undercloth, his palm pressing in a steady, rhythmic pulse.