Chapter 229 - Jenny, you are really a bitch
"She won’t hate me for undressing her," he said, after a moment’s consideration, his voice carrying the careful, measured quality of someone constructing a reasonable justification under less than ideal circumstances.
He paused.
"...Right?"
The room offered no response.
He sighed through his nose — not unhappily — and dragged a hand slowly through his hair.
Below, somewhere outside the house, a car engine turned over. Jake Harlowe, apparently unable to commit to leaving, finally committing to leaving.
Cruxius did not notice this.
He was looking at Jenny, still and flushed and thoroughly unconscious, her pyjama top rising and falling with the steady rhythm of her breathing, the lamplight doing generous work with the curve of her—
He cleared his throat again.
"...At the very least," he said, with the quiet resignation of a man who had decided, "she’ll have questions when she wakes up."
He stepped closer to the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he settled one knee beside her.
Jenny lay exactly as she had fallen—yellow pyjamas loose and rumpled, hair fanned across the pillow, lips parted in unconscious surrender. Her chest rose and fell in slow, even breaths, the soft fabric of her top clinging lightly to the curve of her breasts.
Cruxius hooked two fingers under the hem of her pyjama top and drew it upward, the soft fabric whispering over her stomach, over the warm swell of her breasts, until it bunched beneath her chin. The simple pale bra cradled her perfectly. He slid his hands beneath the cups, palms warm against the undersides, and lifted. Her breasts spilled free with a soft, heavy jiggle, full and flushed in the lamplight, deep brown nipples already tightening into stiff peaks.
A low, sleepy muffle slipped from her throat—barely a sound, more like a breathy sigh that made her lips part a fraction wider.
He unclasped the bra with one smooth motion, tugged it off along with the top, and tossed both aside. His hands returned to her breasts immediately, kneading the soft, heavy flesh slowly, thumbs circling the stiff peaks. He pinched one nipple between thumb and forefinger, rolling it gently, then twisted it with just enough pressure to make her body twitch. Another soft, unconscious muffle escaped her lips, quieter than the first, her breathing catching for half a second before settling again into those slow, helpless little huffs.
He smiled at the reaction, eyes darkening with hunger.
Without breaking contact, Cruxius stood just long enough to strip himself bare. His shirt hit the floor, followed by his pants and underwear. His cock sprang free—thick, heavy, already fully hard and throbbing, the flushed head glistening with a bead of precum. His balls hung heavy and full beneath it. He climbed back onto the bed, naked now, skin hot against hers as he settled between her spread thighs.
Next he peeled her pyjama bottoms down her hips, taking the panties with them in one slow drag. The fabric slid over the curve of her ass, down her thighs, and off her ankles. He spread her legs wider with both hands—gentle but firm—until her knees fell open wide, exposing her completely. Her pussy was completely shaved, smooth and glistening under the lamplight, outer lips plump and already slightly parted, the pink inner flesh slick with arousal.
"Looks like someone’s been keeping secrets," he murmured, voice low and rough.
His hand settled on her inner thigh. His thumb stroked upward and brushed the sleek mound, then parted her folds, opening her fully. The entrance looked visibly used, yielding too easily even in her unconscious state. A low chuckle rolled out of him. "Jake must have had a very tiny cock."
He pressed the pad of his middle finger against her entrance, circling once, then pushed inside slowly. She was soaking wet; the finger slid deep without resistance, but her walls clamped down—hot, silky, and still impossibly tight. Her breathing hitched again, a tiny muffled whimper rising from her throat while she remained unconscious, her hips giving the faintest unconscious shift.
Cruxius leaned down, mouth closing over one brown nipple. He sucked hard, tongue swirling, teeth grazing the sensitive peak as saliva coated her breast in warm, wet trails. His free hand kept working the other breast, kneading the soft flesh, pinching and twisting the nipple until faint red marks bloomed around the tip. A fresh, sleepy muffle slipped from her lips—deeper this time, almost a moan—while her body twitched beneath him.
He shifted his hips lower, letting his thick cock slide along her soaked pussy lips. The heavy shaft rubbed slowly back and forth over her clit, the swollen head nudging her entrance with every lazy stroke. His balls pressed warm and heavy against the soft skin of her inner thighs, dragging lightly with each grind, leaving a faint sheen of her own slickness on them. Sweat was already beginning to bead on her skin, mixing with his as their bodies pressed closer, her flushed chest rising faster against his bare torso.
Her breathing changed—quick, shallow gasps now, each one carrying a soft, unconscious muffle that grew a little needier. Her hips gave a tiny, unconscious roll against his cock, smearing more of her wetness along his length. He added a second finger inside her, stretching her open while his thumb circled her clit. The wet, rhythmic sounds of his fingers pumping filled the quiet room.
Her body began to tremble—small, heartfelt twitches traveling from her thighs up through her stomach, her breasts jiggling softly with every shaky breath. Saliva glistened on her nipples, bite marks faintly visible where his teeth had claimed them.
Her eyelids fluttered.
A soft, broken moan escaped her lips, louder this time, vibrating against his chest as he kept grinding his naked cock against her dripping pussy.
Cruxius lifted his head just enough to watch her face, fingers never slowing, his balls still rubbing teasingly against her slick thighs. "What’s that?" he asked, voice rough with amusement, his own breath hot against her skin.
Her eyes opened—wide, dazed, pupils blown. Both hands flew up to cover her mouth, but the moan tore through anyway, raw and needy. Her back arched clean off the bed as the orgasm slammed into her. Her walls clamped down hard around his fingers, pulsing wildly, and then she squirted—hot, clear fluid gushing over his hand and cock in rhythmic spurts, soaking the sheets and his balls. Her cry came out broken and desperate: "IANNNFGG~~!!!"
She collapsed back onto the mattress, chest heaving, breasts jiggling with every gasping breath, sweat glistening across her skin and dripping onto his chest where their bodies still pressed together.
Cruxius didn’t stop. He pulled his fingers free with a wet sound, then leaned down and caught both nipples between his teeth at once—biting just hard enough to leave fresh marks and make her gasp again.
He tugged them outward, stretching the sensitive peaks while his tongue soothed the sting, sucking greedily and leaving even more saliva trailing down the curves of her breasts.
His cock continued to rub slowly against her oversensitive pussy, balls nestled warm and heavy against her thighs, the friction sending fresh shudders through her spent body.
Her hands were still half-covering her mouth, eyes glassy and wide, watching him in stunned, trembling silence as another soft, exhausted muffle slipped out.
He released her nipples with a wet pop and sat back on his heels, lips glistening, smirk sharp and satisfied, his naked body still hovering over hers.
"Thalia was right," he said, voice low and dark with amusement. "You really are a bitch."