Chapter 1371: Heretic and the Goddess (r-18)

He set her on the table without letting her go but he kept her thighs open around him, and put his mouth on the first inch of bare skin like he meant to collect her one piece at a time. Alabaster and rose, every line of her carved with devotion; he had worshipped her before and still felt like a heretic seeing her for the very first time.

Phei started softly at her throat, he moved to the hollow beneath it, then followed the sharp line of her collarbone.

She shivered when the air touched it when his lips left, and he followed that shiver with his mouth until he reached the upper slope of one breast and stayed there a while, kissing the pale skin while his hand filled itself with the other and his thumb dragged over her tight nipple until it pebbled even harder against him.

He dragged his mouth down the slope of her breast and took her nipple into his mouth; he sucked it until the peak stiffened against his tongue—her spine bowed right off the table.

A sound broke out of her, and she bit it off quickly, as though that would help.

"Haah... Little Dragon..."

It didn’t help.

He drew her deeper—his tongue circled the tight bud; then he pulled off just far enough for the wet peak to glisten before he took it again.

When he switched to her other breast he did it worse, with an open mouth, a slow pull, and just enough of his teeth to make her hips jerk against his cock. Her breast filled his mouth in a perfect teardrop weight, as if it had been shaped to fit there.

Each suck made her grind down harder and smear more of her nectar over his trapped length, and her pussy left a darker wet patch on his trousers every single time she moved.

The Goddess’s head tipped back and her dark hair slid off her shoulder while he worked her second nipple, and still she tried to keep that goddess line in her spine, as though composure could somehow survive his mouth on her breast and a cock grinding through her ruined lace.

It was a valiant effort.

Phei looked up from the wet peak to her black eyes and didn’t look away while he sucked, possessive and warm, and let Goddess Fall Touch spill from his hand into the teardrop weight until her stomach jumped and her thighs tightened around his waist.

He left her nipple shining and kissed its pale underside, then the tight ladder of skin between her breasts, collecting her exactly the way he had promised with his mouth.

"I missed this," he said into her skin. "The way you smell when you’re so wet, Goddess. The way this body goes still and then doesn’t. That grace you walk around with like your body isn’t the hottest and graceful thing in a room."

And he kept going lower, between her breasts and over the tight ladder of her ribs, down to the trembling flat of her stomach, where her muscles jumped under his mouth as if they had a mind of their own.

Every kiss left a wet mark behind, and every mark made her writhe a little more, while her dress hung off her like a ruined afterthought nobody had any use for anymore.

His tongue traced the shallow dip of her navel.

Lower still, just above the line of her panties, he breathed her in slowly and felt her stomach flutter against his mouth. Goddess Fall Touch spilled from his hand into the flat, elegant plane of her, and the Ashford Madam’s head tipped back again; her dark hair slid off her shoulder and her black eyes went half-lidded, while she still tried, bless her, to look like a goddess instead of a woman about to be devoured on a table.

Phei dropped to his knees—

He pulled the dress down to her knees in one smooth tug, then kissed the bone of each kneecap, then the inner line of her calf, then higher and higher, until his mouth turned into the tender softness of her inner thigh.

Once he was close enough, he pressed his face there and breathed her in whole pussy in.

Her surged through his nose to his core at once, warm and salted and already wet with wanting him to eat her pussy and then fuck her, and gods, it was almost enough to make him forget his own name.

Her inner thigh was damp where her nectar had begun to travel, and he licked the smear off her skin before he even reached the lace.

She was already past pretending, and they both knew it.

He looked up at her.

Her back was arched off the table— both her hands planted behind her with her fingers white on the wood.

Between her spread thighs her pale lace had gone dark and glossy at the center, stuck to her, and a thin thread of wetness ran down toward the table.

The lace clung so tightly it outlined every soft fold she had, and her clit showed as a visible swell beneath the soaked crotch. Another slow bead welled up, slid, it caught the low light, and dripped lower. Her black eyes watched him from above, wrecked and still proud, as though she could survive being looked at like this—like she was something sacred— if she only kept her chin lifted high enough.

Even veiled in ruined lace she was a relic worth kneeling for, and the Young Dragon had honestly never been so glad to be on his knees.

"Look at you. Already leaking, are we, Goddess."

She opened her mouth, most likely to tell him off.

Right next he put his head under the dress and kissed her pussy through the lace before she got the chance.

And it wasn’t a peck, either. It was a full, open-mouthed seal over the soaked crotch, and he sucked the taste of her through the lace until it molded to every fold.

She jerked so hard the table creaked.

"Ahhhhhhh—"

The broken sound escaped her before she could kill it.

The lace turned translucent against his tongue, and he tasted her right through it: sweet, salt, and unmistakably her.

He licked along the wet stripe her panties could no longer hold, then hooked the lace aside with his tongue and dragged it over bare, wet flesh. Bare, she was liquid silk. His tongue parted her inner lips and found her already dripping, and her entrance fluttered against its tip like it had been waiting for him all evening.

He stayed right there and made a proper ceremony of that first bare lick.

Phei flattened his tongue through her parted inner petals, he then gathered the bead that had welled at her entrance, and dragged it up over her clit in one long, wet stroke that made her thighs jump around his ears.

The Goddess’s hand slipped off the wood, then fisted in his hair.

Phei looked up along the lean length of her while he licked her again, slower, so she could watch the filth of his mouth on her and still try, poor thing, to keep her chin lifted; please ran from his tongue into her fluttering little mouth, and her stomach jumped.

She lifted her hips to meet him, which rather settled the question of who wanted what.

The dress went onto the floor, where it belonged.

He didn’t take her panties off yet. He licked her through them again, slower, and flattened his tongue over her clit until the lace was completely useless, then used his teeth on the strings at her hips — a kiss, a bite, a pull, first one side and then the other — until the lace loosened and he drew it down her thighs with his mouth still on her.

Her panties peeled away wet, and a shining string of her followed them down, stretched from her folds to the ruined lace, and finally broke.

Bare, she was even worse, in the very best way.

Her outer lips were soft and flushed and already parted. Her inner petals shone a deeper pink, wet enough that the light caught on them, and her clit stood swollen from the lace and from his mouth.

A slow bead of her nectar welled at her entrance and slid toward the table.

All of her lay open and gleaming before him, a flushed little mouth that had very obviously been made for his. Her inner petals clung together, then separated when he breathed on them, and her clit peeked from its hood, tight and shiny, and twitched whenever his exhale touched it.

Even wrecked like this, the Ashford Madam somehow kept the long, taut line of a goddess: her teardrop breasts high and trembling, her stomach flat and jumping, her thighs elegant even while they shook around his head.

Gods, she was exquisite, a rose split open at dawn, dew-heavy and blushing, and entirely his for the taking.

Phei spread her with his thumbs and, for one second, looked exactly like a man who had gotten away with something.

Then he buried his mouth in her pussy.

He licked from her hole to her clit in one long, filthy stroke, then did it again, slower, and gathered every drop of her on his tongue. Her taste flooded his mouth.

He drank the next pulse of her wetness straight from her entrance, pushed his tongue just inside, then dragged it back up to her swollen peak, sealed his lips around it, and sucked until her thighs clamped his head like a vise.