Kian’s acceptance was immediate, a swift, eager nod that sent a thrill through Lyssa’s spent body.
Gods, what a beast, she thought with a giddy, internal laugh.
Ready for another round without a single sign of tire.
She was ready for his cock inside her again, that familiar, stretching fullness. But the ache between her legs was a sweet, sore reminder of how thoroughly he’d already claimed her.
A new, hungry curiosity bloomed. She wanted to feel his mouth. She wanted to know what those silent, intense lips could do.
She rose up slowly on trembling arms, her body a symphony of pleasant aches. As he moved closer, kneeling on the bed, his erect cock stood proud and eager. Before he could guide himself into her, her hands shot out, catching his length in a loose, warm grip. He stilled, his dark eyes questioning.
“Wait,” she breathed, her voice husky. “I want… I want you to taste me, Kian. Use your mouth. There.”
He stared at her for a heartbeat, then a slow, devastating smile touched his lips. He nodded, a glad, eager gesture that made her heart flutter. He slid off the bed entirely, his movements fluid and purposeful.
Before she could process his next action, his strong hands gripped the backs of her thighs. He pulled her toward him, dragging her across the damp sheets until her buttocks met the very edge of the mattress. Her calves hooked over his shoulders as he stood between her legs, spreading her wide open to the cool room air. Then he pushed, firmly, on her thighs.
Lyssa fell backward with a startled yelp, her upper back hitting the mattress, her head pillowed by the rumpled covers. She was splayed open, exposed, her swollen pussy presented to him like an offering. He knelt slowly, his face now level with her core. His hot breath washed over her damp curls, and she shuddered.
Then, he dug in.
Oh, my God.
Not only was this boy a beast. He was also an artist.
His mouth sealed over her in a hot, wet, perfect vacuum. His tongue, broad and flat, swiped through her folds in one long, languid stroke that made her back arch off the bed. A broken cry tore from her throat. He didn’t just lick, he explored. He mapped her with a sensualist’s attention to detail. The blunt tip of his tongue circled her throbbing clit with tight, precise revolutions, then flicked it with a rapid, teasing rhythm that had her hips jerking off the mattress.
Her hands flew to her own mouth, clamping over it to stifle the screams building in her chest. The ecstasy was too intense. His tongue delved lower, spearing into her entrance, fucking into her with shallow, penetrating thrusts that mimicked the act of sex but felt a thousand times more intimate. The wet, slurping sounds he made were obscenely loud in the quiet room. He drank from her as if she were a spring and he was dying of thirst.
One of his hands left her thigh, his fingers joining the feast. He rubbed slow, firm circles around the aching, used pucker of her anus, the touch a shocking counterpoint to the lavish attention his mouth was paying to her front. The dual sensation, tender and possessive, unspooled her completely.
Her hands, no longer needed to quiet herself, gripped the bedsheets in white-knuckled fists. She twisted the fabric, her legs trembling over his shoulders. He changed techniques seamlessly. Broad, flat laps. Sharp, pointed flicks. A gentle suction on her clit that made her see stars. He was relentless, worshipful, utterly in command of her pleasure. Every nerve ending she possessed was focused on the hot, wet, brilliant work of his tongue and lips.
In the master’s chambers, the air was thick with sweat, sex, and a cruel, floral perfume.
The servant girl, her soft body gleaming, rode Priest Eldrin’s lap with a desperate, grinding rhythm. She had already climaxed twice, her cries now reduced to hoarse, continuous whimpers. Lady Anya had moved from tormenting the girl’s nipples to her mouth, kissing her with a deep, devouring passion. Anya’s fine gown was stained, her composure a thrilling contrast to the debauchery she orchestrated.
Eldrin lay beneath them, a spent vessel. He had passed out twice, only to be woken by the deep, rolling rides of the servant girl and the suffocating, perfumed press of Anya’s silken-clad buttocks against his face. He hadn’t spoken. He couldn’t move. His cock, red and slick from endless attention, was at their utter mercy. It stood, trapped between the girl’s dripping channel and Anya’s occasional, teasing grasps, so wet and overstimulated it was a miracle of persistent hardness.
Anya broke the kiss, her lips glistening. She looked down at Eldrin’s glazed eyes.
“Watch her take you, priest,” she commanded, her voice cool. “Watch her fall apart on your pathetic, leaking cock.”
The girl obeyed, her eyes locking with Eldrin’s as she increased her pace, slamming down on him with a wet, slapping sound. Her small breasts bounced, her face a mask of overwhelmed pleasure.
Kian’s assault on Lyssa’s senses became a focused, brutal campaign. He pinned her clit between his lips and sucked, hard, while his tongue fluttered against the trapped, hypersensitive nub.
Lyssa’s vision whited out. A tectonic wave of pleasure gathered in her core, unstoppable. She couldn’t hold back. A raw, screaming moan erupted from her, her hands tearing free of the sheets to tangle in his hair, not to push him away, but to hold him right there.
In the master’s chambers, Anya’s hand snaked between the servant girl’s legs, her fingers finding the girl’s clit as she fucked Eldrin. “Now,” Anya hissed. “Cream his cock for me. Do it.”
The girl’s eyes rolled back. A guttural, shattered sound tore from her throat. Eldrin, feeling her inner walls clamp and flutter violently around him, finally broke. His own release was a weak, pulsing trickle after so many, but it was enough. He groaned, his body bowing against the silken cords.
Anya, watching them, felt her own climax arrive with a cold, sharp precision. She pressed her thighs together, a shudder of pure, dominant satisfaction wracking her frame, a silent, powerful orgasm that curved her lips into a victorious smile.
And in her room, Lyssa shattered.
The climax was a supernova, tearing through every nerve. Her body convulsed, her thighs clamping around Kian’s head as she ground herself against his relentless mouth, riding the waves of pure, mindless ecstasy he was pouring into her. She felt him groan against her, the vibration tipping her even higher, and she knew, with absolute certainty, he was tasting her own release, drinking it down as his reward.