My All Powerful System

Ava’s breath left her in a shudder that she couldn’t control. The words hung between them... "your turn" and she felt them land somewhere deep in her chest, in the space between her ribs where her heart was trying to hammer its way out.

Her fingers were still white knuckled on the edge of the mattress, and she couldn’t seem to let go, couldn’t seem to remember how to move at all.

Lynx didn’t rush her. He just waited, watching her with those mismatched eyes... one blue, one silver, both ringed with gold... and the patience in his gaze was somehow more overwhelming than the hunger.

She’d watched him take Eira apart, watched him be fierce and relentless and demanding, and now he was looking at her like she was the only thing in the room, like he had all the time in the world.

"You’re shaking Ava," he said, and his voice was low, gentle. "That’s okay."

"I’m not..." Ava started, and then stopped, because she was. She was shaking. Her whole body was trembling with it, a fine vibration that she couldn’t still no matter how hard she tried.

"I just... I’ve never..."

"I know." He moved then, shifting off the bed to kneel in front of her, and the change in altitude made her feel like the room had tilted.

His hands came up to rest on her knees, warm through the damp fabric of her skirt, and she felt the heat of his palms like a brand.

"That’s why we’re going to go slow."

She swallowed. Her mouth was dry. "You don’t have to..."

"I want to Ava." His thumb traced a slow circle on her knee. "I want to watch you feel everything for the first time. I want to be the one who shows you."

The words did something to her. Something that started in her chest and spread outward, heating her skin, loosening the knot of fear that had been coiled in her stomach since she’d watched him with Eira.

Because she’d wanted this... she’d wanted it so badly that she’d been afraid of how much she wanted it, afraid that when her turn came she’d freeze, that she wouldn’t know what to do, that she’d disappoint him.

But he was looking at her like she couldn’t disappoint him. Like she was something precious.

"Okay," she whispered, and it came out steadier than she expected.

His mouth curved into a smile that softened his whole face. "Good girl."

The praise hit her like a live current, arcing down her spine and settling low in her belly.

Her thighs pressed together involuntarily, and she felt the slick heat between them, the evidence of how much she’d been affected by watching him.

She was soaked. Embarrassingly soaked.

Her underwear was ruined, and she could feel the dampness seeping through to the thin fabric of her skirt, and he hadn’t even touched her yet.

He reached for the buttons of her sleeves, and she held her breath. His fingers were careful, deliberate, working each button free with a patience that made her chest ache.

The fabric parted, and cool air hit her skin, and she saw his eyes drop to what was revealed... a simple white bra, damp with sweat, her nipples hard enough to show through the fabric.

"Beautiful," he murmured, and the word was so soft, so sincere, that she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

She didn’t know why she was crying. She wasn’t sad. She wasn’t scared anymore. It was just... no one had ever looked at her like that. She was beautiful yes she knows, but almost everyone wants something from her, because she’s a Blessed and her father status.

No one had ever touched her like she was something to be savored, something to be gentle with.

She’d spent her whole life being the strong one, the storm, the girl who could turn her body into lightning and strike down anyone who got in her way.

And here he was, handling her like she was made of glass.

He slid the sleeves off her shoulders, and she let him. Let him guide her arms free, let him toss the damp fabric aside.

His hands found the clasp of her bra, and she felt the band loosen, felt the straps slide down her arms, and then she was bare to the waist, her breasts exposed to the dim light, her nipples tight and aching.

He looked at her for a long moment, and she felt the weight of his gaze like a physical touch.

Then he leaned in, and his mouth closed over her nipple, and she gasped... a sharp, startled sound that she couldn’t hold back.

His tongue was hot and wet, circling the sensitive peak, and she felt her back arch involuntarily, pushing more of herself into his mouth.

He sucked gently, then harder, and pleasure lanced through her in waves, making her toes curl.

Her hands came up to grip his shoulders... she needed something to hold onto, needed an anchor.... and she felt the heat of his skin through the fabric of his shirt, felt the muscle shifting beneath her palms.

He moved to her other breast, giving it the same attention, and she heard herself make a sound... a small, broken whimper that she would have been embarrassed about if she’d had any room in her head for embarrassment.

But there wasn’t room for anything except sensation, except the wet heat of his mouth and the gentle scrape of his teeth and the way his hand was sliding up her thigh, pushing her skirt higher.

"Lie back," he whispered against her skin, and she obeyed.

She let go of his shoulders and fell back onto the bed, the mattress catching her, the sheets cool against her bare back.

She was still wearing her skirt and her ruined underwear, and she felt exposed in a way that was terrifying and thrilling at the same time.

He knelt between her thighs, and she watched him through half lidded eyes, watched the way his gaze traveled down her body, watched the silver mark on his forehead pulse with a soft, rhythmic light.

His hands found the waistband of her skirt, and she lifted her hips to help him, and then the skirt was gone, and she was left in nothing but her underwear... a thin scrap of white fabric that was practically translucent with how wet she was.

He made a sound low in his throat. "You’re so fucking soaked."

Ava felt heat flood her cheeks. "I-I couldn’t help it. Watching you and Eira..."

"I know." His fingers traced the edge of her underwear, not quite touching where she needed him most.

"I could smell you from across the room. The whole time."

The admission sent another wave of heat through her. She’d been so obvious. She’d been sitting there, dripping, touching herself while he fucked another woman, and he’d known.

He’d known the whole time, and he’d let her watch, and now he was here, between her thighs, telling her she was beautiful.

"Can I take these off?" he asked, and the question made her chest tighten.

"Yes," she said, and it came out breathless. "Please."

He hooked his fingers under the elastic and pulled. The fabric slid down her thighs, down her calves, and then he was tossing it aside and she was completely bare, completely open to him, and she had to fight the urge to close her legs.

He didn’t give her the chance. His hands settled on her inner thighs, coaxing them apart, and she let him... she let him spread her open, let him look at her, let him see everything.

The silver mark on his forehead flared brighter, and she felt a responding pulse from the golden sigil on her own forehead, a warmth that spread down through her body and settled between her legs.

"So fucking beautiful. You’re so beautiful Ava," he murmured, and then he lowered his head.

His mouth found her, and Ava’s whole body seized.

His tongue was flat against her, broad and hot, licking up through her folds in one long, slow stroke that made her see stars.

She cried out... a sharp, high sound that she couldn’t contain... and her hands flew down to grip his hair, silver strands sliding between her fingers.

He lapped at her like she was something delicious, like he couldn’t get enough of her taste, and she felt herself climbing toward a peak that she’d never reached with her fingers before. Her pussy was fucking sweet.

"Ohh~ oh~" she gasped, her hips bucking against his mouth. "L-Lynx~"

He hummed against her, a low, approving sound that vibrated through her clit, and she felt herself shatter.

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