100x Rebate Sharing System: Retired Incubus Wants to Marry & Have Kids

Chapter 733: Chapter 732 - Taking Her Into the Bathtub

He leaned. Down. His face, descending toward her crotch, was calm. Focused. The green eyes, which had been on hers, dropped. To the wet silk. To the dark hair beneath. To the outline of her pussy, the swollen lips, the engorged clit that was visible through the transparent fabric.

She closed her eyes.

His mouth found her pussy.

The contact, his lips through the wet silk, was warm. Soft. Not the brutal, demanding contact she had expected. Not the ’I-am-going-to-destroy-you’ assault that he had inflicted on the others. This was different. Gentle. Exploratory. His lips, pressed against her mound, kissed. The motion, the softest touch, made her body jerk. The contrast, the ’I-expected-violence-and-received-tenderness’ contrast, was more devastating than any force.

His mouth moved. Down. To the edge of her panties. His fingers, hooking the wet silk, pulled. Aside. Not off. Aside. The fabric, stretched, exposed her. The dark hair, wet and matted, covered her mound. The lips, the outer folds, were visible. Pink. Swollen. The inner lips, darker and wetter, peeked from within. The clit, the small nub, was hidden beneath its hood.

He buried his face.

His mouth, open and wet, sealed over her pussy. His tongue, emerging from between his lips, found her entrance. The tip, broad and warm, pressed. The lips, yielding, parted. The tongue, sliding into her, was slow. Deliberate. The ’I-am-tasting-you’ motion that was nothing like the brutal fucking the other women had received.

"MMMM—!!" The moan, muffled by the gag, was loud. Her back arched. Her hips, against the tub’s marble bottom, bucked. The ’his-tongue-is-inside-me’ sensation, the first oral she had ever received, was overwhelming. Her hands, on the rim, gripped harder. Her legs, on his shoulders, tensed. Her thighs, clenching around his head, squeezed.

His hand found her bra. The black lace, wet and transparent, was pulled. Not gently. The fabric, stretched past its limit, tore. The cups, displaced, freed her breasts. The nipples, pink and stiff, were exposed. The areolas, wide and dark, were peaked. The mounds, heavy and full, the mature breasts of a woman who had never borne children but had been blessed by genetics, were bare.

His hand found one. His fingers, rough and warm, closed around the nipple. Pinched. The pressure, sharp and direct, made her gasp. He pulled. The nipple, stretched, followed his fingers. The breast, heavy, lifted. The skin, taut, strained. He released. The nipple, red and sore, snapped back. The breast, released, fell. The flesh, soft and heavy, settled.

He kneaded. While his tongue, inside her, explored. The combination, the dual assault on nipple and pussy, was devastating. Her body, which had been resisting, which had been fighting the pheromones and the fear and the arousal, surrendered. Her hips, moving on their own, ground against his face. Her pussy, wet and swollen, pushed into his mouth.

’He did not do this to the others,’ she thought. The realization, cutting through the fog of pleasure, was sharp. ’He fucked them like animals. No foreplay. No oral. No tenderness. He just took them. Bent them. Spread them. Fucked them. But me... he is preparing me. Making me ready. His tongue. His mouth. His fingers on my nipple. He is—’

’He is treating me differently.’

’Why?’

The thought, the ’why-me’ question, was interrupted by his tongue finding her clit. The nub, exposed by arousal, was sensitive. The tip of his tongue, pressing against it, sent a jolt through her body. Her spine arched. Her legs, on his shoulders, kicked. The ’too-much’ reaction of a woman whose clit had never been touched by a tongue.

He sucked. The clit, the small nub, was drawn into his mouth. The suction, gentle but persistent, was maddening. His tongue, circling the captured nub, worked. The combination, the ’suction-plus-tongue’ combination that no amount of reading or gossip had prepared her for, was building something. A pressure. A heat. A ’something-is-coming’ wave that was rising from her pelvis.

Her hands, releasing the tub rim, found his hair. Her fingers, threading through the dark wet strands, gripped. Not pulling. Holding. The ’I-need-something-to-anchor-me’ grip of a woman who was losing control.

Her pussy, against his mouth, was gushing. The arousal, thin and clear, mixed with the bath water. The fluid, leaking from her entrance, was being lapped up by his tongue. The sound, the wet ’lap-lap-lap’ of a man drinking from a woman, was audible over the lapping of the bath water.

The pressure built. The heat rose. The wave, the ’I-am-going-to-cum’ wave, approached.

"MMMM—!! MMMMPH—!!" The moans, muffled by the gag, were frantic. Her hips, bucking against his face, were erratic. Her legs, tensing on his shoulders, were shaking. Her hands, in his hair, were pulling. The ’I-am-about-to-explode’ signals that her body was broadcasting.

He sucked harder.

The orgasm hit.

"MMMMMM—!! ♡♡♡!!"

Her body convulsed. Her back arched off the tub bottom. Her hips, slamming upward, drove her pussy into his face. The fluid, the clear thin squirt, erupted. Hit his chin. His cheeks. His lips. He drank. His mouth, sealed over her entrance, swallowed. The sound, the ’gulp-gulp’ of a man swallowing a woman’s orgasm, was obscene.

Her body fell. Back into the water. The splash, the displacement of her body, sent water over the rim. She lay. In the warm water. Trembling. Her eyes, open but unfocused, stared at the ceiling. The aftershocks, the small convulsions, made her twitch. Her legs, still on his shoulders, were limp. Her hands, in his hair, released. Fell to her sides. Into the water.

He lifted his face. From her pussy. His chin, wet with her arousal, dripped. His lips, swollen and red, curved into a smile. The ’I-just-made-you-cum-harder-than-you-ever-have-in-your-life’ smile that was both pride and promise.

He moved up. His body, rising from the water, was over hers. His face, wet and glistening, was above her. The scent of her own pussy, musky and strong, hit her nose. His face, covered in her fluids, was inches from hers.

He reached. His fingers found the panty gag. Pulled. The fabric, wet with her saliva, emerged from her mouth. The gag, freed, was tossed aside. It landed on the marble floor with a wet SLAP.

She gasped. The first breath, unobstructed, was deep. The air, fragrant with lavender and sex, filled her lungs. Her mouth, free for the first time in hours, opened. The jaw, sore from the gag, ached. She worked it. Tried to speak.

"Stop," she said. The word, the first clear word, was hoarse. Broken. "Not do that. It’s wrong. I am a Baroness. I am— we cannot— this is—"

He kissed her.

His mouth, still wet with her own juices, sealed over hers. The taste, the musky, sweet, slightly salty flavor of her own arousal, hit her tongue. The fluid, transferred from his lips to hers, filled her mouth. She tasted herself. The pussy juice, the squirt, the arousal. All of it. On his tongue. On his lips. In her mouth.

"Mmph—♡ mm—♡" The moan, muffled by the kiss, was involuntary. Her mouth, which had been protesting, opened wider. Her tongue, betraying her, found his. The taste, the ’I-am-kissing-a-man-who-just-ate-my-pussy’ taste, was devastating.

His hands, during the kiss, moved. Found her wrists. Lifted them. Over her head. The bra, the torn lace that had been pushed aside, was used. The fabric, wrapped around her wrists, tied them together.

The knot, tight and secure, bound her hands above her head. Her arms, stretched over her head on the tub’s marble edge, were pinned. Her breasts, lifted by the position, were thrust upward. The nipples, pink and stiff, pointed at the ceiling.