Chapter 31: WARM BATH
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[you have maxed the orgasm of a sex beast]
[[Devil essence unlocked: 34%]]
[[Mask evolved: 10]]
[[Appraisal: Nightmare Incense]]
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Dax didn’t understand the gift, but a primal part of him was fiercely glad he was going to be keeping his dick.
The queen now slowly, gingerly, pushed herself upright and turned to face him. She leaned forward, her spent body swaying, as their lips met in a slow, deep kiss, their tongues entangling lazily, tasting each other and the remnants of their passion.
It was too short. She pulled back, her voice a quivering, husky whisper that still held a seductive trail.
"Stevon."
"Mm?" Dax mumbled, his senses still swimming.
She trailed her fingers down his chest, through the sweat-slicked hair, and gently wrapped her hand around his softening, oversensitive cock. He shivered violently at the touch.
"I will need to shower before we have that dinner," she purred, her thumb stroking him gently.
"What do you say? Wanna join?"
He smiled, a lazy, Lucivar’s aura of satisfaction tugging at the corners of his mouth. He was still buried deep inside the feeling of her, the scent of their coupling thick in the air.
"I’m dirty," he replied, his voice low.
...
The bath was another place of ceremony, a sanctum of steam and fragrance whose marble walls seemed to pulse faintly with the warmth of scented water.
The water sluiced over the Queen’s shoulders, a shimmering cascade seeking the peaks of her nipples. Dax’s breath hitched. Gods, they were perfect. Rosy, taut, and beaded with droplets that clung for a desperate moment before tracing a path down the magnificent slope of her breasts.
He watched, utterly transfixed, as a single, rebellious trickle of water navigated the deep valley of her cleavage, disappeared over the subtle curve of her stomach, and finally, finally, pursued a glistening trail through the shadowed divide of her sumptuous ass.
He hadn’t meant to follow her in. But the sight was a siren’s call, and his will was nothing but shipwrecked timber.
"See something you like, conqueror?" Her voice was a low, throaty purr that vibrated through the steam-filled air, snapping his gaze up to hers. Her eyes, dark and knowing, held his. There was no anger there. Only a dark, shimmering amusement and a heat that mirrored the fever in his own blood.
He couldn’t beat the temptation. He didn’t want to.
He didn’t answer with words
A low growl rumbled in his chest as he closed the distance between them in the vast, opulent tub.
The water sloshed over the sides as he pulled her onto his lap, her back to his chest. His hands, large and possessive, slid around her waist, palm flat against her stomach to pull her flush against him. He could feel the frantic, rabbit-quick beat of her heart against his forearm.
She arched into his touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips as he pulled her firmly against him. The hard length of his erection pressed against her ass, a blatant, demanding answer to her question.
Gently, he turned her to face him.
He lowered his head, his lips finding the elegant column of her throat. He tasted soap and her unique, intoxicating scent; jasmine and power. Her head fell back, granting him access, and her fingers tangled in his hair, not pushing him away but pulling him closer. Claiming him.
His mouth traveled lower, capturing a pebbled nipple. Her sharp cry echoed off the marble walls as he suckled, his tongue laving the sensitive peak until she was trembling, her knees buckling. He held her upright, one arm a firm band around her back, the other hand sliding down, down, over the glorious curve of her hip.
He cupped the full, round flesh of her ass, kneading it, possessively. A low groan tore from his chest. So perfect. So fucking perfect.
Like some rights, he turned her over again.
"You are a vision," he murmured, his voice husky against the shell of her ear before his teeth grazed the sensitive lobe.
One hand drifted down, through the warm water, over the soft nest of curls, until his fingers found her core.
She was already slick, so much slicker than the water surrounding them.
A choked gasp escaped her as he parted her folds, finding the swollen, sensitive pearl of her clit. He didn’t tease. He applied a firm, circular pressure that made her entire body jolt, her head falling back onto his shoulder.
"Dax..." she moaned, her own hands gripping his powerful thighs, her nails digging in.
"I’m just following the water’s path," he growled, his fingers moving with a skilled, relentless rhythm.
He could feel her tightening around nothing, her hips beginning a desperate, involuntary undulation against his hand.
He slid one long finger inside her, then a second, curling them to find that spot that made her cry out, the sound echoing off the marble walls.
She was so hot, so unbelievably tight around his digits, pulsing with a need that matched his own.
"Daddy," she moaned, the word a broken plea.
"Now."
With his other hand, he cupped her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching just enough to send another sharp bolt of pleasure-pain through her.
He was everywhere, his touch overwhelming, consuming. He replaced his fingers with the thick head of his cock, pressing against her entrance. He paused, drawing out the agonizing, exquisite moment of anticipation.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice rough.
She turned her head, her eyes glazed with pure want. He drove into her in one smooth, powerful thrust, filling her completely.
A shared, guttural cry was torn from both of them. The water amplified every movement, every slap of skin on skin, every choked-off moan.
He set a punishing, deep rhythm, one hand anchored on her hip, the other braced against the side of the tub.
Each plunge was a claim, each withdrawal a sweet torture. He could feel the muscles in her stomach clench, could hear her breath coming in ragged sobs of pleasure.
"Aaaaaaah! ahhhhhh ! Yes Daddy! Yes!
Her scream was one of pure, unadulterated pleasure. He filled her completely, a perfect, tight fit that stole the air from his own lungs.
The slap of their wet skin merged with the rush of the shower and her ragged moans. He gripped her hips, his fingers pressing into her flesh as he plunged deeper, harder.
He could feel the coil of his release tightening, a wildfire in his gut. He reached around, his fingers finding her clit, circling the swollen nub in frantic, slick circles.
She cried out, her inner muscles clamping around him in a violent, exquisite spasm that ripped his own orgasm from him. His vision whited out as he emptied himself into her with a guttural roar, his body shuddering with the force of it.
They collapsed against the tub, spent and breathing heavily, the water still raining down on them.
...
Later, Dax slumped on the bed allotted to him. The mattress exhaled a faint aroma of jasmine and old cedar, as if the room itself were trying to soothe his fevered mind.
Outside, the sun had already relinquished its throne, but a pale, dusky light still lingered, hesitant and half-hearted, forcing everyone to wait for night’s full descent before dinner could begin.
As Dax lay back, his thoughts roamed far and wide, a restless tide he could not command. He could still taste the memory of the Queen’s body; her moans whispered in his skull like phantom echoes of some forbidden hymn.
The memory clung to him like damp silk. He needed something, anything, to wrench his mind from that intoxicating spiral, if only to claim a few moments of peace before the evening meal.
And then he remembered: the voice he had heard earlier, flickering in the theatre of his mind’s eye. Its cryptic cadence had unsettled him, yet also promised answers. Determined, he drew a long breath and let himself sink inward.
The runes blossomed in his inner sight, gleaming like fireflies in an abyss.
He focused on the one sigil whose meaning eluded him most:
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[Appraisal: Nightmare Incense: Level 1]
■¡ Nightmare Incense is bestowed only by a Rebate Beast of Sex. It grants the wielder passage into the Nightmare Realm; the duration depends upon the rank of the incense.■
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A stubborn smile flickered across Dax’s lips, a flame he could not quite smother. The discovery warmed him from within. He imagined, almost with relish, the look on Darling’s face when she realized she had armed him rather than destroyed him.
Speaking of Darling, he still could not fathom what crime of his had provoked her to poison him. She had seemed kind, even companionable. The contradiction gnawed at him.
He exhaled slowly, still smiling. He was not finished with the Queen yet; he can actually go more rounds with her, and the thought brought a dangerous thrill. It was beginning to feel as though he were enjoying himself more than fulfilling his mission.
What astounded him most was the wellspring of strength surging through him. By all rights he should have been spent; hours of indulgence should have left him hollow.
Instead, desire coiled within him like a serpent of fire, ready to strike again. There could be only one source: the Devil’s gift. He was certain of it.
Let the Queen wait for my second coming.
Once, he had trembled at the thought of losing his manhood. Now he almost laughed at the memory.
As his mind wandered in this labyrinth of thoughts, a sharp rap sounded at his door.
"Young Master," a voice called, muffled but urgent, "dinner is served, and the Queen demands your presence at once."