She shakes her head as she says, "That is my Meaningful Purpose. One day”—she sobs— “when you're an old man and I’m dead because I don't have the Xin De genes, you're going to look out over the children I've made for you, and their children, and their children, dozens of them that all originated from my body, and you’ll understand why being your Silk Girl means everything to me!”
Fuck. I don’t want to imagine a room filled with her babies but without her…
Then she licks her dry lips. Bad move. Her tongue, tiny and pink, wetting her perfect bow lips. A groan rumbles deep inside me as though vibrating in a cold, hard cave.
Jealous of her tongue.
I seal my mouth over hers.
I kiss her.
She melts into the mattress, letting go of the anger as I work her soft, wet lips with mine. She sighs, giving in to me, opening her mouth for me to explore.
She tastes good. So sweet. So vulnerable. My little aster flower, little creature. Mine.
Her hips roll upward, begging for pressure, for my body on hers, and my cock strains to her demand. The pain is blinding.
“Fuck, Aster. Stop,” I hiss, so close to losing complete control with her.
Needing to still her writhing body, I lower my torso to press on her, and she mindlessly grinds her pussy against my abdomen and fuck… I’m fucked.
So fucked.
As her inexperienced mouth grows in confidence, her tongue meets mine, her lips begin to move, and I can feel the raging beat of her heart against me.
And now I want that, too.
Her heart.
Her womb.
All of her.
She wants to be my Silk Girl, but I want her to be more. I was going to allow her to torture me, torment me with her body, keep her the one thing I won’t allow myself… Who is the damn obsessed one here? It is meant to be her!
I tear myself from her lips and press my forehead to hers. “Eat well. Sleep early. I will come to you, little creature.”
She pants against me, and I inhale the sweet breath, taking it as my own. “Then I’ll make you mine in the way you desperately desire.”
The demanding little thing trembles beneath me, sweet, nervous energy even as I offer her what she wants.
“So—” She gathers her thoughts and steadies her breath. “So you'll take two Silk Girls then?”
Why is she asking this? “Two?”
“Iris...” she mutters, the name heavy with emotion. That name again. “Red hair, big breasts, tall, leggy, the nictitating membrane.” Agitation pitches her voice. “You were with her last night!”
Her tone pisses me off.
Impertinent.
Improper.
Disrespectful.
I lift my head and glare down at her.
Fuck me, she’s pretty.
“I realise you’re emotional,” I offer, checking my temper. “But the next time you raise your voice to me, little creature, I’ll be fucking those sounds from you with my cock down your throat. Do you understand?”
Her breath hitches. “Yes, my king.”
I exhale roughly—that’s better.
My eyes pin her to the mattress, the effect instant as a shy pink glow gathers on her cheeks.
“You will not ask me this again,” I state smoothly. “Do not test my loyalties, make assumptions, or accusations. You have no right to ask me who I fuck or when or why.”
Her pretty violet eyes well up.
Dammit.
I touch my forehead to hers again, our breath mingling together. “I did not take another Silk Girl last night. I have never taken a Silk Girl, Aster. You are the first.”
Too much sentimentality and possessive rage make the need to taste her insufferable. Time to introduce my Silk Girl to her clit.
She whimpers as I climb down her body and slide my head under her dress. I know she’s naked underneath; I saw her scurry to put her clothes on in front of me…
And in front of Cairo.
A territorial growl rumbles low in my guts as I eat at her pussy lips. They are neat and closed, barely touched. I part them with my tongue.
She bucks off the bed, long moans escaping her in an instant. Her knees rise, presenting more for me to enjoy, but not enough, so I throw her legs over my shoulders.
Her hands fist the sheets by her hips, and my tongue laps from her arsehole to her clit and back. Over and over.
Groaning, I indulge on her as I admit, “Licking your sweet pussy lips makes me so hard.”
It takes every fibre of my restraint not to literally chew on her skin, imprint my teeth into her folds. Want more.
I don’t just lick her pussy, I claim it, feeding my hands between the mattress and her little arse, holding each cheek completely, controlling her pelvis.
I lap up and down.
“This little bud is your clitoris,” I utter, using the tip of my tongue on the tiny hidden knot, flicking it until she is jerking and mewling like a speared animal.
“It’s for your pleasure.”
I kiss the tiny hood, then push it down and suck the pink, supple bead that rises from it.
Still sucking, I use the tip of my tongue to bear down on the bundle of nerves. They fire. I hear her breathing become jagged, hear her cries of pleasure hint at anguish. At angst. At needing something just on the brim.
Too intense, her sounds tell me.
I lessen the pressure and focus on dipping into her wet, tight hole. She gets wet easily.
My perfect, little Silk Girl with her wet pussy. That will help when I fuck her. The juices filling my mouth are made to help my massive cock stretch her open.
When she ripples on my tongue, I groan into her, knowing her inner walls are clenching around her narrow channel, begging for friction and pressure.
I will comply.
Soon.
I fuck the mattress.
Very, very soon.
Coming back to her clit, I find the perfect pace and suck with gentle authority, wanting something from inside—her nerves to explode.
Her thighs tighten around my face.
Her left leg jerks from my shoulder.
She comes on my tongue.
And like the rest of Aster, her orgasm is sweet with vulnerability and confusion but still curious. As though she is unsure its real, I’m real, or what might be happening to her inexperienced, young body.
I am what is happening to her.
I am what is claiming her.
“Do you enjoy your clit?”
She is whimpering through her climax; her little cheeks jiggle in my cupped palms; her clit vibrates on my tongue. She is too lost to respond. Lovely. “Answer me, Aster.”
“Yes,” she cries.
Pleasing this pussy will undoubtedly become an addiction of mine, the rich flavour and soft scent perfectly balanced is enough to drive a man to thirst for it, beg for it, war for it.
And I am very skilled in the ways of war.
Chapter Fourteen
Aster
A Silk Girl Vow—The Act.
For The Cradle, my skin will be smooth like silk, my entrance wet, warm, and welcoming, and I'll draw the weight from my lord with my core.
He will pierce me open, and blood will flow from my delta; a heavy fall is my mark of a pure soul.