Chapter 955: The Battle Begins
Hands. Lips. Tongues.
Everywhere.
A tidal wave of sensation crashed over Quinlan as eight women closed in on him. In this moment, they were more like predators of the most beautiful kind than his tender little lovers. Each one devoured him with her own style, her own rhythm, her own flavor of obsession.
Aurora, ever the delicate alchemist, trailed her fingertips over the lines of his chest, whispering praises of his newest muscles built in Zhenwu. Her lips brushed over his collarbone, soft and reverent, but her hands trembled with barely restrained need.
Vex, the yandere blood bride, was anything but delicate. She approached him from the top, her teeth grazing his neck possessively, leaving hot, claiming kisses along his shoulders. Her hands roamed downward, greedy, territorial.
Lucille, the throat goat both in name and in spirit tonight, slithered down the front, her palms tracing every muscle, every line of him, leaving kisses that burned hotter than fire. Her mischievous grin widened, the bell at her neck jingling as she descended on one spot and one spot only.
With a ravenous motion, her lips parted and she claimed his cock whole, engulfing his erect "knight" in the depths of her wet mouth and the exquisite pressure of her tight throat. <For honor... and service...> she purred using the mental link.
Ayame was precise, as always. Her warrior’s hands slid along his arms, fingers squeezing his biceps, his forearms, studying and memorizing the strength that her man had gained since she last saw him. But tonight, that precision had a new edge to it, a deliberate seeking of pleasure.
Her gaze which was usually sharp with focus, now burned with a hungry fire as her lips found the pulse on his wrist, then trailed up his arm. Her slick tongue darted out, tasting his skin, drawing a trail of her saliva in the process as her body pressed closer, leaving no doubt of her great need.
Seraphiel’s elven grace betrayed her devilish intent. She straddled his thighs, hands caressing up his sides, mouth exploring his ribs and abs with maddening slowness, whispering sweet, filthy things in Elvish... things that were meant for no ears but his.