Chapter 1373: "Missed Drinking You, Goddess" (r-18)

He changed only the work inside the same kneel; he never left the table and never rushed the claim. He would then push his tongue into her until her entrance clenched and spilled over his chin, drink it, drag up through her inner petals until they clung glossy to his mouth, then seal around her clit and suck until her thighs shook against his shoulders.

His other hand stayed on her teardrop breast with his thumb on her wet peak, and when her hand slipped on the wood he caught her wrist and put it in his hair so she had something to hold on to.

"I’ve got you... I am going to pleasure you goddess off these past weeks you missed my tongue and cock," he murmured into her pussy, warm and shameless, and went right back in.

He did not stop when she started shaking. Why the hell on earth would he?

He pressed her thighs wider with his mouth still on her, and there was nothing left between them at all. Spread like this, she was even worse, in the very best way. Fully open. Fully gleaming. He spread her with his thumbs until her inner petals parted and her entrance winked at him, dripping, and licked her like he meant to empty her.

Long strokes from the bottom of her hole to the peak of her clit.

His pointed tongue flicked her swollen bud until her thighs clamped his head.

Then back down into her, where he curled his tongue and drank whatever kept spilling for him.

His other hand returned to her ass and held her up off the table so he could bury his face deeper. She rolled against him while silent moans broke in her throat; her teardrop breasts shook, her stomach tightened, and the whole lean line of her bowed as he sucked her clit and fucked her with his tongue in the same filthy rhythm.

The Ashford Madam’s grace tore on a swallowed cry; her black eyes went wet, and her dark hair slid off one shoulder while she still tried not to make a sound the hall could keep.

"Ahh— Phei—"

When his tongue withdrew, as even his mouth leaving her was a loss she refused to accept.

Phei felt it and answered with depth instead of a question. He pulled her ass onto his face and licked into her fluttering mouth until her toes curled off the table’s edge and her voice broke mid-word.

Her climax hit in a warm, sudden rush.

She lifted off the wood. Her thighs locked around his head. A soundless cry tore out of her as her pussy fluttered and gushed against his mouth, and he drank all of it. Every pulse. Every dewy, trembling wave.

He sealed his lips over her and swallowed her down while she shook, while her entrance clenched and leaked and tried to close, while her fingers stayed fisted in his hair as if letting go would drop her straight through the table.

He kept licking but slower and yet greedier, and gathered every last drop from her folds, from her entrance, from the wet shine on her inner thighs.

Wasting any of her would have been sacrilege, and Phei was many things, but never a heretic about this.

He stayed sealed to her through the last pulses and kissed the shake out of her clit, then her inner petals, then her dripping little mouth, which kept fluttering as if it wanted him back inside. Romance lived right there in the greed.

"Haah... gods..."

"Phei—"

Two of his fingers slid into her without warning, and she clenched around them at once, tight and drenched. He curled them while he kept eating her, and his tongue worked her clit in short, wet flicks every time his fingers dragged against her inner spot.

She squeezed him so hard his knuckles felt it.

Every curl drew a soft, filthy sound out of her, and more of her spilled over his fingers and ran down to his wrist.

Goddess Fall Touch ran down those two fingers straight into her grip, and the Goddess’s grace finally broke on a swallowed cry, even as her body still tried to sit like she belonged on a throne instead of a table in a resting room.

He fucked her with his two fingers in long, curling strokes that matched his mouth and dragged their pads against her inner spot until her walls fluttered and locked and fluttered all over again, while her nectar ran down his wrist to the table and he sucked her clit and let frost chase fire through the power in his hands.

Her toes curled off the edge as one of her breast shook when her breath broke.

And Phei didn’t hurry, not even a little. He ate her like he had all the time in the world, even with the hall right there, and looked up every now and then at her black eyes just so she would know he was watching her try, and fail, to stay quiet.

She writhed on the table.

She fisted in his hair more desperately, and her breasts shook with every broken breath.

The resting room stayed quiet except for the wet sounds of his mouth and the thin, helpless noises she kept failing to swallow, which, given how sound carried in here, was rather the whole problem.

She moaned anyway, bitten and shaking, and her hips rolled against his face as if she had already forgotten there was a door at all.

"Mmh... Phei..."

"Ahh— don’t— they’ll hear—"

He answered her warning by sealing his mouth over her clit and curling his fingers deeper, and Goddess Fall Touch poured into her grip until her voice broke on the very next sound and she forgot the hall entirely for a few breaths, which was exactly what he wanted. Then he eased off just enough for her to hear the laughter again, and the contrast made her clamp down around his fingers even harder.

Phei kissed the inside of her thigh and told her he had her, still on his knees, his mouth still on her, his eyes on the lean, elegant line of her as she tried, and failed, to look like a goddess on a table.

He looked up once while she was still coming, and he didn’t look filthy at all. He looked like a man who had her, wholly and completely.

Only when the last tremor eased did he lift his head.

His mouth was wet with her. His chin shone. His eyes had gone dark.

"Goddess," he said, his voice rough. "I missed drinking you."

She heaved for air, her chest rising hard, her teardrop breasts still flushed and her nipples still tight: "Phei... fuck me."

He smiled, slow and wicked, and came closer, still between her open thighs, still tasting her on his tongue.

"Say it again Goddess."

She swallowed, still shaking, and reached for his shirt instead of answering, she undid one button, then the next and the next, her fingers were slow because her breath was still broken. The shirt opened on a body that looked forged rather than born: hard chest, tight stomach, the clean, dangerous lines of a man who had been tempered instead of merely built.

She traced him with her fingertips and followed every ridge, every warmth, every faint sheen of effort.

How could anyone be this? Any of this?