The Nymph Wants to be Plundered - Chapter 113

“Cass… sss…? Is something wrong?”

“No. The day’s still young, so I want to look at you a little longer.”

“Huh?”

When she asked, confused, he painted the scene for her—one she could already picture in her mind.

“Your wet p***y hole—just watching it makes it twitch and gape so prettily. The way it drips and opens up for me whenever it gets the chance… It’s entertaining.”

“Th-that’s…!”

Entertaining?! Of all things, there?! Realizing his intent too late, Evelyn struggled, but it was futile. The negligee, bunched up around her chest, did nothing to hide her, and squeezing her thighs only pressed them against his cold cheeks, heightening the stimulation. Unluckily, as soon as he spoke, the trembling in her slit intensified, just as he’d said—gaping visibly.

His hands traced her quivering lower belly, then gently spread her open. The pooled arousal, waiting from her lying position, spilled out in a slick rush. Every inch of her glistening skin, drenched beyond wetness, was reflected perfectly in his blue eyes.

Just looking at her sticky sweetness made his mouth water. Like a lazy orchard owner neglecting ripe fruit, her flesh split on its own, honeyed nectar seeping out as if begging—Eat me already, don’t just leave me like this. He knew real peaches didn’t ripen this way, but a faint smile curled at the corners of his lips anyway.

Evelyn pleaded belatedly, as if unaware of what had already been done to her.

“No… Hng, hngg, don’t spread me, okay?”

“You’re the one spreading yourself open.”

His fingers deliberately bypassed her dripping wetness, instead seeking out her c**t, pinching and rubbing it with cruel precision. Come for me, come like you mean it. Please… Had she said those words? Evelyn’s mind was already fogging over when something deep inside her gushed violently—soaking the table, her a*s, and the negligee clinging to her back in a shameful flood.

And even then, the sensation of more slick arousal trickling down, drenching her slit, left no room for embarrassment or sobs. Her lips, her lower body—nothing seemed capable of staying closed. All she could do was wait, desperate for something—anything—to fill her, to plunge in and out of her. As her walls clenched, expelling every last drop, her shoulders shuddered with each ragged breath.

“Ha… ah… haa….”

Cassis, who had been watching her intently, murmured.

“Now I’m sure you’re back to normal, Evelyn. You were far too numb earlier.”

“Huh?”

“It feels like you’ve returned to yourself.”

To be precise, it was the her he had missed—the woman who had slowly learned the depths of lust and pleasure, melting into the shadow that was Cassis. Finally reclaiming the Evelyn he remembered filled him with dark satisfaction. He lowered his head, dragging his tongue along the heated slickness still leaking from her slit.

Her essence coiled thickly around his tongue, and he drank it down greedily, savoring every drop. Like a starved beast, he didn’t care that his golden hair clung to his cheeks, nor did he hesitate to twist his lips and jaw, lapping, sucking, devouring every last bit of her.

But her body wasn’t the type to stay still after just one release. As her quivering walls clenched again, spilling more of herself, Cassis treated it like ambrosia—slurping, gulping, making obscene, wet noises as he swallowed every drop she gave him.

Her body, sprawled across the table, began to tremble faster and faster. Evelyn felt as though she were drowning in a vast, relentless ocean rather than lying atop the imposing desk in the king’s bedchamber. It was the same sensation she had felt earlier behind the curtains—only now, the tranquil lake or gentle river had transformed into an endless, fathomless sea. Surrendering to the ceaseless waves of desire, desperate moans bubbled up from her throat.

“Ah… Hng, ah… Aah…!”

Finally pulling his mouth away, he examined the glistening slit he had so thoroughly cleaned. Though the swollen flesh still pulsed greedily, dripping with slick arousal, it was far less drenched than before. Pressing his fingers firmly into the plump, flushed skin, he murmured.

“So delicious, Evelyn. If I want to drink every last drop… I should have you on top of me. Yes, that would be perfect. I’ll lie back, and you’ll ride me. Or maybe you’d prefer staying on your hands and knees.”

“…What?”

The words left her dazed. For her—who had almost always been pinned beneath him—this was an entirely bewildering suggestion. Even if he had once knelt on the terrace and worshipped her from below, she wasn’t nearly experienced enough to instantly conjure the depraved array of positions his words implied. Unless, of course, she had spent more time combing through the relics in the Nymph’s temple…

“…I’ll show you later.”