The Villainess Wants To Retire-Chapter 333: The beginning r18

Soren’s hands began to move. Slowly. Deliberately. Palms sliding over the thin ice-silver slip as though the fabric were an insult keeping him from what was his.

He cupped her waist, thumbs tracing the flare of her hips, then higher, groping the soft weight of her breasts through the silk until her nipples peaked hard against his touch. Every stroke was possessive, reverent, hungry.

Eris tried to hold onto the last threads of composure. "Soren—this is—you need to, "

"Need to what?" His lips brushed the shell of her ear, breath cool and deliberate. "Stop touching my wife?"

The words were a velvet blade. They cut through her protest before it could fully form. She opened her mouth again, but nothing came, only a ragged exhale as his fingers kneaded her flesh with shameless entitlement.

Her body betrayed her at every turn: hips tilting forward, thighs pressing together, the slick heat between them growing unbearable under the aphrodisiac’s relentless tide.

Soren felt it all. The obscene, delicious heat pouring off her skin like a furnace left open in winter. It soaked into his palms, curled around his wrists, made his blood roar.

His mouth descended.

He started at the hollow beneath her ear, kissing soft, then nipping sharp. Then licking a slow, wet stripe up the column of her throat.

Eris’s head fell back against the glass with a soft thud, exposing the long, vulnerable line of her neck to him completely. He took the invitation. Teeth grazed her pulse point, then closed gently, sucking until a bruise bloomed beneath his lips.

He moved across her jaw, behind her ear, mapping every sensitive spot that made her breath fracture.

His hands were everywhere, sliding down to grip her ass and haul her tighter against him, then up again to palm her breasts, rolling her nipples between cool fingers until she whimpered.

Small sparks danced at her fingertips, fire magic answering the storm he was unleashing inside her. The air warmed, scented with smoke and jasmine and raw desire.

"Melting already, Empress?" he rasped against her skin, voice thick with dark amusement. "I’ve barely started."

Eris drew breath for a cutting retort, something sharp, something regal, but Soren swallowed the words with his mouth.

He kissed her hard, claiming, tongue sweeping in to tangle with hers in a battle neither wanted to win. She kissed him back just as fiercely, fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer even as her mind screamed for distance.

His hands found the ties of her sheer robe. "This," he growled against her lips, "is in my way."

He peeled it from her shoulders slowly, never breaking the kiss, letting the gauzy fabric whisper down her arms and pool like spilled moonlight at her feet. Now there was only the slip, ice-silver silk so thin it might as well have been air, clinging to every damp curve, hiding nothing. The thin straps looked fragile enough to snap under a harsh breath.

Eris’s restraint shattered. She surged up, arms wrapping around his neck, dragging him down into a kiss that was all teeth and desperation. Their tongues warred, moans spilling into each other’s mouths, bodies grinding in a rhythm older than empires. One of Soren’s hands fisted in her hair, angling her head exactly how he wanted; the other gripped her ass hard enough to leave marks, pressing her against the rigid length straining.

She tastes like honey wine and smoke and desperation, Soren thought, drowning. I could die in this kiss and count myself blessed.

He tore his mouth away only when breathing became a necessity. Foreheads pressed together, both panting, lips swollen and wet.

"I’ve been dying to devour you completely," he whispered against her mouth, voice ragged and low. "Slowly taking my time."

His eyes were dark, dangerous, pupils blown wide with hunger.

"And I’m not letting you go until I’m through with you."

The words landed like a vow and a threat at once. Eris felt them sink into her bones, felt her core clench hard enough to make her knees buckle. Heat spiked through her, fresh arousal slicking her thighs. She tried, gods, she tried, to summon rationality.

"Soren, we should— "

But he was already sinking.

Slowly. Deliberately. Dropping to his knees like a supplicant before his goddess.

He kissed his way down her body, sternum, the soft skin between her breasts, ribs, the trembling plane of her stomach. Each press of his lips drew a gasp from her.

His hands gathered the hem of the slip, sliding it upward in a torturous reveal of skin: hips, the crease where thigh met torso, the trembling inner planes of her thighs.

He bit gently, then harder, alternating sides, marking her pale flesh with faint red crescents. Eris’s breath came in short, sharp bursts. Her hands scrabbled for purchase against the glass, then tangled in his hair.

When his face settled level with her abdomen, height difference stark, his broad shoulders forcing her legs wider, she was already shaking. Cool air kissed her exposed skin; his breath followed, colder still. He lifted one thigh, draping it over his shoulder, opening her completely.

Then he looked up.

The gaze he fixed on her was pure predator, eyes glowing faintly with ice-magic, lips parted, expression raw and feral. Eris felt her face burn, butterflies rioting in her stomach, pulse thundering between her legs. She was dripping; she could feel it sliding down her thigh.

"Do you remember?" His voice was gravel and smoke.

Eris could barely think. "Remember... what?"

"That night." His breath ghosted over her inner thigh, raising gooseflesh. "When I asked you to come to Nevareth with me."

He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive skin there.

"You dared me to get on my knees for you. A taboo for an emperor."

Another kiss, higher.

"And you did it. Without thinking twice." Eris’s voice came out breathless, trembling. "I should have known you were crazy back then."

Soren smiled against her skin, teeth grazing lightly. "I don’t care about stupid rules when it comes to you."

She tried for sharpness, for control. "You and your flattering words, "

"Would you like me to do something else with my mouth instead?"

The question was pure sin. Eris flushed crimson, mortified and aching, and shoved weakly at his forehead. He didn’t budge an inch. Instead, cool breath rolled deliberately over her soaked folds, making her hips jerk.

Soren slid the slip higher, baring her completely. Her drenched pussy glistened in the night light, framed by a faint, soft white bush, natural, perfect, utterly inviting. He stared, reverent and ravenous.

Fuck, he thought, mouth watering. She’s perfect. So wet already. For me.

"Stop staring," Eris hissed, voice cracking with embarrassment.

"I’m sorry," he said, and meant none of it.

Then he dove in.

Eris’s sharp gasp cracked the silence as his tongue met her. He started gentle, broad, flat licks from entrance to clit, tasting her slowly, savoring.

But gentleness lasted only moments.

Soon he was making out with her pussy like a man possessed: lips sealing around her clit, sucking softly, tongue swirling, probing, lapping up every drop of arousal like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

His cock throbbed painfully against his trousers, leaking steadily, but he ignored it. Nothing mattered but her taste, her sounds, the way her thighs trembled around his ears.

The aphrodisiac turned every touch into wildfire. Eris’s moans spilled out unchecked, high, broken, desperate sounds she’d never made in her life. Her fingers clutched at his hair, at the doorframe, anything to anchor her as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter.

Soren read her like scripture. When her hips began to rock, seeking more, he gave it. Hands gripped her ass hard, pulling her flush to his face, burying himself in her. He devoured her without mercy, tongue thrusting inside her, then returning to circle her clit relentlessly.

The first climax slammed into her without warning. Back arching, thighs clamping around his head, Eris cried out, a raw, shattered sound, as she came hard.

Soren groaned into her, feeling every pulse, his own cock twitching dangerously close to release just from her taste and the way she shook.

But he didn’t stop.

Even as she shuddered through the aftershocks, oversensitive and gasping, he kept going. Tongue softer now, soothing and stoking at once. Eris’s shame melted away; her hips began grinding against his face again, chasing the next crest.

Then his fingers joined.

One thick finger slid inside her slowly, dragging along her fluttering walls. She clenched around him instantly. He curled it, found her spot with unerring accuracy, and added a second. The stretch was perfect, the pressure exquisite.

Eris lost her composure. Her head fell back against the glass, eyes rolling, mouth open on silent cries. All that existed was his mouth and his fingers and the unbearable pleasure building again, too soon, too much.

"Sor—Soren," His name broke on her tongue, the only word left to her.

He curled his fingers harder, sucked her clit in pulsing rhythm, and she shattered.

This time she squirted, hot, helpless pulses soaking his face, dripping down his chin. Soren drank greedily, fingers still working her through it until her legs turned to water and she sagged, trembling violently.

He caught her before she could fall.

Rising in one fluid motion, Soren lifted her with one arm around her waist, the other kicking the balcony doors shut behind them. He kissed her again, deep, filthy, letting her taste her own release on his tongue. She moaned into his mouth, boneless and wrecked.

"Don’t fall asleep on me now," he murmured against her lips, voice rough with promise. "This is just the beginning."

Eris could barely form thought, let alone words. Her mind was scattered ash, her body liquid flame. She clung to his shoulders as he carried her toward the massive bed, the night stretching endless and insatiable before them.