Read Novel Full Chapter 739: Crucifixion (r-18)
Chapter 739: Crucifixion (r-18)
I pulled my hand away, and the sudden absence felt like ripping velvet from raw skin—her body jerked as if I’d torn something essential out of her, leaving her cunt clenching desperately around nothing, a slick, hollow spasm that echoed through her thighs like a thunderclap of need.
The air hit her exposed folds like ice on a burn, making her gasp, her hips bucking forward in a futile chase, chasing the ghost of my fingers that had vanished.
Her eyes flew open—glassy, feral, shattered with rage and hunger. Tears welled instantly, hot and stinging, spilling over lashes clumped with mascara, carving black rivers down cheeks burning scarlet.
That broken cry ripped from her throat, guttural and primal, vibrating in the air between us, while her pussy throbbed visibly, another fat droplet of her arousal welling up, pearlescent and thick, rolling languidly from the soaked lace to trace a warm, sticky path down the cool leather, leaving a glistening snail-trail that cooled too slowly, teasing her skin with its lingering wetness.
I stepped back, letting her eyes drop to the obscene strain in my slacks—the rigid line of my cock pulsing against the fabric, the dark bloom of precum seeping through like a confession.
The scent of my own arousal mingled with hers now, sharp and salty, cutting through the heavy musk radiating from between her legs.
She whimpered, a small, shredded sound, like a wounded thing left to bleed out.
"Eros, please~"
My smile was all teeth. "No," I murmured, voice gravel-rough. "Not my fingers. Not yet."
I sank to my knees, the carpet biting into my skin through the fabric, deliberate and unhurried. Her thighs trembled under my palms—skin fever-slick, the fine down on them raised like she’d been electrified.
The heat pouring off her was furnace-hot; I could feel it on my face before I even leaned in.
Her pussy scent hit me like a drug—thick, heady, expensive perfume cracked open by raw, dripping cunt: warm skin, faint vanilla, crushed jasmine, and underneath it the darker, filthier note of pure, swollen sex—musky, tangy, intoxicating, the kind of smell that made my cock throb and leak a thick bead of precum down my shaft.
Salt and honey and something primal, animal—a wet, hungry aroma that flooded my mouth with saliva, made me groan low against her thigh as I inhaled deeper, letting it burn straight to my balls.
I started at her left knee again, but this time I devoured—lips parting wide, tongue dragging slow and wet up the impossibly soft, satin-smooth skin of her inner thigh, tasting the faint sheen of expensive sweat, the silky texture quivering and goosebumping under every rough scrape of my stubble.
Each open-mouthed suck was obscene—teeth grazing, tongue lapping broad and filthy, leaving wet trails and blooming red marks that made her thigh twitch and jerk toward my face.
She tasted like sin—rich, salty desperation, dark wine and hot cunt, the flavor exploding across my tongue as I sucked harder, biting just enough to make her gasp sharp and needy.
Higher.
The lace tops of her stockings were soaked now—translucent, clinging desperately to the crease where thigh met groin, drenched through with her slick.
I dragged my tongue along that edge—slow, nasty, filthy—lapping at the nylon saturated in her juices, the faint synthetic sweetness mixing with the thick, creamy tang of her arousal leaking past it in heavy drops.
The heat pouring from her cunt was scorching—radiating in waves that bathed my face, made my lips burn and my cock jerk hard against my stomach.
I could feel her clit throbbing through the lace—fat, swollen, frantic, pulsing like a second heartbeat against my cheek as I pressed closer.
Every exhale was deliberate—hot, humid breath blasting over the drenched fabric, making it cling even tighter, outlining her obscene perfection: those fat, parted lipsglistening dark, the hard knot of her clit straining desperately, tiny spasms rippling through her folds as my breath teased her mercilessly without touching.
She bucked hard—hips grinding forward, thighs clamping around my head as a raw, guttural moan tore from her throat—
"Fuck—please—your mouth—eat me—need your tongue in my cunt now!"—voice wrecked, shaking, dripping with pure, filthy desperation.
Her skin was fever-hot silk under my rough hands, thighs trembling violently as I gripped them wider, stubble scraping red lines up the tender flesh while her scent grew thicker, wetter, the lace now completely transparent and molded to every slick fold.
Another thick bead of her arousal seeped through, dripping slow and warm onto my waiting tongue as I finally pressed my mouth fully against her—growling low, inhaling her like oxygen before ripping the lace aside with my teeth.
She was sobbing openly, ragged, wet sounds ripping from her chest like her body couldn’t contain the ache anymore.
Her fingers clawed viciously into my hair, nails raking deep, bloody crescents into my scalp, yanking my face forward with desperate, frantic strength—trying to force my mouth where she needed it most.
I let her feel my teeth again—harder this time, a sharp, deliberate bite high on her inner thigh that broke skin just enough to make her scream raw and cracked, her entire body seizing in a violent spasm, thighs clamping around my head like a vise.
The faint copper tang of blood bloomed hot and metallic on my tongue, mixing with the thick salt of her sweat as I dragged my tongue over the mark—slow, filthy laps that soothed and punished at once, making her shake harder, hips bucking wildly against my face.
I traced the very edge of her panties with the flat of my tongue—never slipping under, just devouring the soaked lace, lapping up the thick, creamy slick that had seeped through in heavy globs, coating my tongue like warm, melted honey mixed with pure cunt.
The fabric was ruined—drenched transparent, clinging obscenely to her swollen folds, every thread saturated with her dripping arousal.
Her scent was everywhere—thick, heady, overwhelming—raw pussy and expensive perfume cracked wide open, flooding my lungs, making my cock throb painfully hard, leaking thick precum down my shaft as I inhaled her like a drug I’d kill for.
I stayed there, nose buried in the damp curls peeking from the lace edges, breathing her in deep and greedy—hot, humid exhales blasting over her clothed cunt, making her hips roll in frantic, filthy circles, chasing friction that I denied her.
The scorching heat of her pussy pulsed against my lips—radiating like a furnace—so close I could feel every desperate flutter of her walls, every fresh bead of thick arousal welling up and sliding slow and warm down to coat my chin in glossy strings.
Her pleas were incoherent now—just broken, filthy syllables and my name shredded into raw, reverent sobs—
"Please—fuck—eat my cunt—need your tongue inside me—make me come—Eros—please!"—voice wrecked, shaking, dripping with utter desperation.
I pressed one final kiss—hard, possessive—right over her clit through the lace, lips sealing tight, sucking with brutal pressure just enough to trap the swollen nub against the soaked fabric.
She screamed—back arching violently off the chair, thighs crushing my head, body convulsing as a fresh gush of cream flooded the lace, soaking through to my mouth in a hot, tangy rush.
And then I pulled away.
Stood.
Licked her taste from my lips slow and deliberate—thick, creamy, salty sex—letting her watch every flick of my tongue, her ruined flavor coating my mouth like victory.
"That," I said, voice hoarse and low, "was for the lobby."
I walked to the door.
Paused.
"Didn’t even take the lace off," I added quietly, eyes raking over her trembling, dripping form. "Next time you decide to tease me in public, Sable... remember I can make you come apart without ever putting my tongue inside that greedy, soaking cunt."
The door clicked shut behind me.
I left her dripping—panties flooded, clit throbbing untouched beneath the ruined lace, thighs slick with her own cream, body shaking with denied release—the taste of her still thick and filthy on my tongue, the sound of her broken, sobbing pleas echoing down the hallway like the sweetest fucking music.
"You... bastard..." she whispered, voice cracked and wrecked, but I was already gone—leaving her wrecked, desperate, and craving the moment I’d finally rip those panties off and bury my cock where my tongue had only teased.