Chapter 8: The Worship That Fails
Lin Mu's breath trembled as he pressed his face into her thighs. The scent of her—soft, sweet, and faintly salty—washed over him. Familiar, but not his. Not anymore.
She lay back on the bed, eyes half-lidded, one hand stroking his hair as he lowered his lips to her folds.
Her pussy was still open.
The outer lips, reddened from the night before, were puffy and sensitive. The entrance yawned slightly, a soft pink slit that no longer remembered his shape. Her clit peeked out above, untouched by him—still dull, unresponsive.
And deeper within, even now, he could see the pearly streaks of another man's seed, dried faintly at the corners and clinging stubbornly to the warmth just inside her.
She hadn't asked him to clean her again.
But he wanted to.
He needed to.
Lin Mu's tongue flicked gently along her lips. He licked upward slowly, tasting the mixture of faded sweat, her natural slickness, and the faint bitterness of the leftover cum. His tongue curled, dipping just slightly into her slit—and the texture changed immediately.