I carried her from the closet like she weighed nothing, her legs wrapped around my waist, her arms clinging to my neck, her face buried in my shoulder as if she could hide from what she'd just done—what we were about to do.

The walk to the bed was only ten steps, but it felt like crossing a threshold into another life.

The moonlight followed us through the open door, bathing us in its glow as it spilled across the white sheets like liquid silver, turning the room into a cathedral of forbidden devotion.

I laid her down in the center of the bed, slow, reverent, like she was something sacred and breakable and mine. She sank into the mattress with a soft sigh, the sheets cool against her overheated skin, her blonde hair fanning out around her head like a halo she no longer deserved.

Her eyes—those ice-blue eyes that had once commanded boardrooms—were soft now, wide, trusting, in love.

I stood at the foot of the bed and let her look.

Let her see what she'd done to me.

I unbuttoned my shirt, one button at a time, slow enough for her breath to hitch with every click. The fabric parted. Her gaze dropped to my chest, my abs, the V that disappeared beneath my belt. Her lips parted. A soft, needy sound escaped her.

I unbuckled my belt. The leather whispered free. I let my jeans fall.

And my cock sprang free.

Giant. Veined. Beautiful in the way only something made for ruin can be.

The shaft was thick, flushed dark with blood, veins roping along its length like rivers of fire. The head was swollen, glistening with precome that caught the moonlight and shimmered. It curved slightly upward, heavy, proud, perfect.

Margaret gasped—a sharp, broken sound that cracked in the middle. Her hand flew to her mouth, then fell away, trembling.

"Jesus Christ, Peter…" Her voice was wrecked, awed, hungry. "That's… that's not… you can't be real."

I smiled. Slow. Loving.

"I'm real, Margaret." I crawled onto the bed, over her, caging her beneath me. "And all yours."

She reached for me—hesitant, reverent—her fingers wrapping around my cock, barely able to close. She stroked once, slow, her thumb brushing the head, smearing precome in a glistening trail. Her breath shuddered out of her.

I kissed her—soft, deep, slow. Tongue sliding against hers, tasting her love, her guilt, her surrender. She moaned into my mouth, the sound sweet, devoted, eternal.

I moved lower. Kissed her throat—slow, worshipful, tongue tracing the bruises I'd left, the ones from before, the ones that said mine. Down her collarbone. Between her breasts. I took one nipple into my mouth—gentle, loving, sucking until she arched, until her fingers tangled in my hair and pulled me closer.

I kissed every inch of her—every bruise, every stretch mark, every scar. Treated them like holy relics. Because they were.

When I reached her pussy, I didn't dive in. I worshipped—because Peter, the god who could reduce empresses to quivering supplicants with nothing but the heat of his breath, never rushes the sacred. I savor. I unveil. I make divinity ache.

I knelt between her wide-spread thighs like a high priest before the living altar of creation.

Her legs were already shaking violently—inner thighs flexing and twitching in helpless spasms every time the warm ghost of my exhale brushed her soaked folds. The air between us was thick with her scent: hot, musky honey, the faint metallic tang of earlier fucking, the sweet-sharp flood of fresh arousal that dripped in slow, obscene strings from her entrance to the sheets.

I started high. Lips first—soft, deliberate—pressing open-mouthed kisses to the fevered, trembling skin just above her clit. That tender mound was still flushed crimson from the ruin I'd already inflicted, swollen and glossy with sweat.

I let my tongue slip out—slow, languid—lapping up the salty sheen that had gathered in the delicate crease, tasting the pure essence of her desperation. She arched—spine bowing sharply off the silk, tits thrusting upward, nipples tight and dark as berries, a broken, keening whimper tearing from her throat.

"Peter… oh gods…"

Then lower.

I traced the crease where thigh met hip with the flat of my tongue—long, wet, dragging strokes that followed every natural fold, savoring the secret musk that bloomed only for me. The skin there was impossibly soft, velvet-hot, quivering under each pass.

Her hips jerked upward—greedy, involuntary—chasing my mouth like a moth to flame.

I pinned her gently but unyieldingly: one wide palm flat on her lower belly, fingers splayed possessively, thumb resting just above her pubic bone, so she felt the weight of my control. Still. Open. Mine.

Her pussy was obscene in its perfection—a revelation carved from sin. Outer lips swollen dark rose and peeled back like overripe fruit, revealing the slick, deeper pink inner petals that fluttered with every heartbeat.

Thick, creamy arousal coated every inch: her entrance wept steadily, a slow, viscous pearl of slick sliding down her perineum to circle the tight pink pucker of her asshole before dripping in shining ropes onto the ruined sheets.

Her clit stood proud—fat, glossy, throbbing visibly, the hood retracted so the tiny, engorged pearl protruded shamelessly, begging to be crushed, sucked, devoured.

I kissed the outer lips first—soft, reverent presses along the puffy edges, never quite touching the weeping center. Heat from my mouth alone made her sob—high, shattered sounds that cracked into my name like lightning striking glass.

"Peter—please—fuck—please—"

Only then did I give her the first true taste of mercy.

One long, slow, devout lick—from the dripping entrance all the way up to her clit. My tongue flattened wide, dragging through her folds in a single, unhurried glide that gathered every filthy drop: the thick, creamy froth she'd made earlier, the faint salty tang of my own cum still leaking from her, the fresh, sweet-sharp flood of her renewed need.

I savored it—let the flavor explode across my tongue like forbidden wine from the oldest vine—then swallowed with a low, appreciative groan that vibrated straight into her core.

She sobbed my name again—raw, reverent, shattered: "Peeeeter…"

I parted her wider with gentle thumbs—spreading those swollen lips so every glistening, quivering inch was laid bare to my worship.

Then I feasted.

Slow, torturous circles around her clit first—tongue tracing the swollen pearl without direct pressure, teasing the sensitive hood, flicking the tender underside until it throbbed harder, swelled fatter, pulsed visibly under my attention.

Her hips bucked wildly; I held them down with iron gentleness, palm pressing her pelvis to the mattress so she could only feel, only take.

When she whined—high, desperate, animal—I finally gave her the flat, firm stroke she was dying for: tongue pressing hard against her clit, dragging upward in long, rhythmic laps that made her thighs quake violently around my ears, muscles jumping and spasming against my cheeks.

I sucked her clit between my lips—gentle at first, then harder—sealing my mouth around the engorged nub and pulling in slow, pulsing draws like I was drinking her very soul through that tiny, throbbing point.

She screamed—back arching so sharply her shoulders left the bed, nails raking bloody furrows down my scalp, thighs clamping my head like a vice as fresh cream gushed hot and thick against my chin.

I lapped it up greedily—tongue dipping lower to spear inside her entrance—curling deep, thrusting shallowly, fucking her dripping hole with slow, deliberate strokes while my nose ground mercilessly against her oversensitive clit.

Her walls fluttered and clamped around my tongue—greedy, desperate—trying to suck me deeper even as I withdrew to return to her clit.

Merciless rhythm; long, flat licks from weeping hole to throbbing clit. Tight, sucking pulses on the swollen pearl—drawing it deeper into my mouth, flicking the tip with rapid little lashes.

Tongue-fucking her sopping entrance until she squirted—a hot, sudden, forceful gush that coated my lips, my chin, my throat in sweet, sticky heat. Then back to circling, teasing, devouring

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.