Chapter 38: Teaching a lesson (R18)
"Then come, my dear Isis," said Astrid with a mischievous smile, her lips still glistening with provocation. "But remember... he’s still under my care."
Isis returned the gaze with a golden gleam in her eyes, as if accepting the challenge.
"Sharing, I can do. But yielding... never."
"Hehe, we’ll see then," Astrid laughed, rising with feline grace, leaving Aziz’s lap with an elegant glide. She settled beside him, her white hair cascading over her shoulders like liquid silk, making room for Isis to take what she clearly desired.
Without hurry, Isis approached. She sat before him, legs crossed, posture perfect — the embodiment of a woman who had mastered the game from the first glance. Her body radiated a quiet, almost arrogant confidence. Her blood-red eyes didn’t stay on Aziz’s face for long; they slowly descended, like someone admiring a living work of art, until they stopped at the center of his lap.
The young man’s cock was still pulsing with the fury of youth, standing proud and defiant, as if aware that it was the focus of all attention. A rebellious scepter pointed to the sky. Isis arched an eyebrow, amused by the sight, and her lips curved into a wicked smile.
"My lady had this in her mouth just moments ago, huh..." she murmured with a hungry glint in her eyes, as if speaking to herself — but clearly meant to provoke.
With a light, almost innocent gesture, she poked the tip with her finger, testing its texture like someone checking the ripeness of fruit. The response came instantly.
"Ahh..." sighed Aziz, breath caught by an involuntary shiver. His muscles tensed in a sudden reflex, betraying how sensitive he still was after the climax.
The sound, though soft, was music to Isis’s ears. Her eyes lit up with feline mischief, as if she’d just discovered a new toy that reacted delightfully to the slightest touch. A look of playful wickedness took over her face as she slowly withdrew her finger.
Aziz, frustrated by the loss of contact, narrowed his eyes at her. He was about to protest when he saw her discreetly spit into one hand, then rub both palms together, spreading the moisture. Her movements were slow, sensual, calculated to maintain control of the scene. The gentle sound of her wet, warm hands sliding against each other filled the room with tension.