Transmigrated As An SSS Ranked MILF Overlord
Chapter 142: Two Targets

Chapter 142: Two Targets

The pressure was intoxicating—tight, warm, and impossibly consuming. Steve guided his cock in slowly, savoring every second as her tight arse hole stretched to accommodate him.

Slick from the heat of her deepthroat, he moved deeper, inch by aching inch, until he felt her fully wrapped around him.

A guttural sound escaped his throat, raw and involuntary. Fiona gasped, her lips parting as her breath hitched. Her body trembled, and a sharp moan tore from her lips before she clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes squeezing shut in stunned pleasure. Her cheeks flushed crimson, her back arching instinctively as if to draw him in even further.

Steve’s grip tightened on her hips, grounding himself in the feel of her. She was molten beneath his hands, silken and trembling, every nerve drawn tight. He pulled back slowly, the friction nearly maddening, before thrusting his thick length forward again—deeper into her. Fiona shuddered, muffling another cry.

Steve’s hands gripped the generous curves of her hips, his palms clapping firmly against the plush flesh of her ass with every driving thrust. The sound echoed through the room—raw, rhythmic, and primal.

He moved with deliberate control, grinding his teeth as her body gripped him with impossible tightness, pulling him deeper with every glide. The sensation was maddening—flesh yielding and firm, wrapping around him like velvet heat.

His pace built in steady waves, each stroke sinking deeper, fuller. Her body rocked beneath him, accepting him inch by inch, her breath stuttering with every thrust.

Steve’s teeth clenched, his breath hot and ragged, the tension riding his body like a wave. His jaw was damp, lips parted slightly, and the sight before him was enough to drive him wild. Fiona’s hand was still pressed over her mouth, but it couldn’t hide the desperate sounds that slipped out—those soft, broken gasps that made his pulse hammer.

Her eyes were squeezed shut, lashes fluttering as each thrust sent a tremor through her. Her body rocked beneath him, and then—trembling—one of her hands slid upward. Fingers grazed her flushed skin before settling over one of her breasts, full and sensitive. She cupped it tightly, her fingers digging in as if she needed something to hold onto—anything to tether her to the moment.

Her hips pushed back instinctively, matching his rhythm, craving more. She pinched her nipple, hard, and a muffled cry tore through her fingers.

’Oh... oh my god...’ Her thoughts spun, her mind a storm of heat and surrender.

’ I love it—I fucking love it.’

’Oh my...’ The words echoed through Fiona’s mind in a dazed rush as her fingers gripped her breast again, kneading the soft, sensitive flesh. Steve’s movements continued relentlessly behind her, his body rolling into hers with deep, measured thrusts. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her body trembling with every motion as he claimed her over and over, riding the rhythm like he was lost in it.

She was drifting—high on sensation, her moans muffled behind her palm, her body flushed and slick with heat. Steve’s teeth parted in a tense snarl, his jaw clenched as he kept moving, eyes locked on the way her body responded to every stroke.

Then—

"Fiona? Steve?"

The voice cut through the haze like a blade.

They froze.

Just like that—bodies stiffening, breath held. A jolt of adrenaline broke through the pleasure, replaced instantly by alarm. They glanced toward the door, wide-eyed and still.

Again, the voice called, a little louder this time.

"Fiona? Steve?"

Recognition hit. That voice—it was Sarah.

Steve immediately pulled back, slipping out of her with a quick, fluid motion. Fiona gasped at the sudden emptiness, but the urgency in the moment overpowered everything else. He reached for his trousers, dragging them up in a hurry, his hands fumbling slightly. Fiona adjusted her dress, smoothing it down, brushing her hair back with trembling fingers. Her cheeks were still flushed, her lips parted, trying to steady her breath.

The footsteps were getting closer.

They fumbled with their clothes, adjusting themselves quickly as they turned to face Meshul, trying to shake off the tension from what had just happened. A moment passed. Then, finally, Sarah stepped into the clearing.

She slowed her steps when she saw them—Fiona and Steve—standing side by side with overly calm expressions. Innocent. Too innocent.

"Sarah," Steve said softly, his tone light, casual. Fiona gave a small wave, brushing strands of hair behind her ear as if nothing was out of place.

Sarah paused, eyes flicking between them with quiet suspicion. She tilted her head.

"Did I... miss something?" she asked.

Fiona smiled. "No, not at all. What’s wrong?"

There was a pause—subtle, but weighted. Sarah’s gaze lingered on Fiona a moment longer before she answered.

"Tonya and I... we just need you guys before we start the search."

Steve muttered, "Oh, alright. Let’s get going, then."

And just like that, the group began to move. They returned to where Tonya waited, assembling their weapons and whatever else they needed. Then, without another word, they followed the remnants of Maggie’s tracks into the wilderness.

The forest thickened around them, the light breaking through in scattered beams. They moved quietly, steadily, their boots pressing into soft earth as they left behind the campsite—the cave, the fire, the silence.

’She passed through here,’ Sarah thought. ’These are her tracks. Maggie’s. And whoever she was with.’

They pressed on.

Time passed. The sky brightened. When noon arrived, the sun stood high above them, casting short shadows beneath their feet. The air was warm now, carrying the scent of river water ahead.

Eventually, the path curved, opening through the trees. Bushes parted, and the group stepped out onto a small bluff overlooking a flowing river.

It wasn’t wide, but it was fast. Clear water shimmered beneath the sunlight, rushing steadily. The footprints they were following stopped at the edge of the bank.

"They passed through here," Sarah said.

The river stretched ahead, the other side visible but distant. Too far to leap. Too deep to risk.

"Does everyone know how to swim?" she asked.

Fiona hesitated, then muttered, "I’m... not really a good swimmer."

Tonya stepped forward, voice calm.

"There’s no need to swim," she said.

She moved closer to the water, her steps measured. At the edge, she paused, took in a deep breath, and slowly raised her hands. Her fingers curled together, then separated, pulling outward in opposite directions as if she were peeling the air itself apart.

"Clear," she whispered.

The river obeyed.

The water trembled, then parted. A path of dry earth emerged, a corridor of land framed by moving walls of water on both sides.

A soft gasp escaped Fiona.

Tonya remained steady, her brow furrowed in concentration as the parted water remained suspended. It wasn’t a complete halving of the river—only a winding stretch in front of them. As she moved forward, the path shifted with her, opening just ahead and closing behind.

’She’s not forcing the water apart,’ Steve realized, eyes wide. ’It’s... avoiding her.’

The group followed, walking along the path she made, the cool mist brushing against their skin. Not a single drop touched them.

By the time they reached the far bank, Tonya stumbled slightly. She exhaled sharply, then raised her fingers and whispered another word. The spell broke.

With a great whoosh, the river surged back into place.

Steve glanced at her, noting the slight tremble in her fingers as she steadied herself.

’Water elementals... are pretty damn useful,’ he thought, impressed.

He turned to Fiona. She was already crouched low, scanning the ground.

"Well, we’re through thanks to Tonya," he said. "So... what now?"

Fiona didn’t answer immediately. She was focused, her fingers brushing the earth, eyes tracing invisible signs.

Then she muttered, "Where is it?"

Steve tilted his head. "Where’s what?"

"The tracks," she said. "They’re gone."

He blinked, stepping beside her. Sure enough, the trail had ended. Nothing remained but their own fresh footprints. There was no sign of Maggie or anyone else crossing to the other side.

’But the tracks led right to the river,’ Steve thought. ’She passed through here. We all saw it.’

He frowned, his eyes scanning the tree line.

That’s when it hit him.

A whisper of pressure. A sharp prick in the back of his mind, like static buzzing behind his skull.

’What... was that?’ he wondered.

He looked up instinctively, and then—

A glint. A flash of light.

An arrow, surging through the trees like a bolt of lightning, shimmering with condensed mana.

It was aimed directly at Sarah’s head.

Steve didn’t hesitate. His instincts roared to life. He reached for his sword, yanking it free as he lunged toward her, lifting the flat of his blade to deflect the blow.

But before his foot hit the ground, another glint caught his eye.

A second arrow.

This one was headed for Tonya.

His heart dropped.

Two targets. Two arrows. One shield.

’No...’

In that split second, time seemed to slow. His breath caught, his muscles coiled, and a decision hung in the balance.

’Who do I save?’