Chapter 609: Chapter-609
By the time she had worked him back to full hardness with nothing more than her mouth, tongue, and clever fingers, Samuel’s usual control was fraying badly. Sweat shone on his skin. His golden eyes had gone dark and unfocused. Every time he tried to sit up or reach for her she simply pushed him back down with one hand on his chest and continued.
She made him come a second time with her mouth alone, taking him deep and swallowing around him until his thighs shook and another thick pulse flooded her throat.
A third time she used only her hands—long, twisting strokes while her tongue traced every vein and the sensitive head until he was spilling across his own stomach in hard, helpless spurts.
She never once took him inside her again.
Instead she used every other part of him she could reach. Her breasts pressed against his cock while she rocked, trapping him in soft, warm cleavage until he came between them with a broken sound. Her inner thighs squeezed around him while she ground slowly, the slick heat of her folds sliding along his length without ever letting him breach her. Her fingers, slick with his release, stroked him while she sucked marks into his throat and chest.
Samuel was beyond coherent speech.
Every time he thought he was spent she found another way to coax him back, another place on his body that made him shudder and spill again. His voice had gone hoarse from the low, continuous stream of curses and half-formed endearments. His hands fisted in the sheets, in her hair, anywhere he could find purchase while she systematically dismantled him.
When she finally crawled back up his body and settled against his chest once more, Samuel was trembling. His cock lay soft and spent against his thigh, every nerve ending raw and singing. Heena rested her cheek over his racing heart, one hand still idly stroking the sensitive skin of his abdomen as if she hadn’t just wrung him dry.
Samuel’s arm came around her automatically. His voice, when it finally returned, was wrecked and quiet.
"...Wife."
Heena made a soft, satisfied sound against his skin.
Samuel closed his eyes, still breathing hard. A low, disbelieving laugh escaped him.
"Next time you decide to pick a fight," he murmured, fingers tracing slow circles on her bare back, "I am locking the door and turning the tables so thoroughly you won’t be able to walk for a week."
Heena only smiled against his chest, already half-asleep, and pressed a lazy kiss over his heartbeat.
Samuel held her tighter, golden eyes still dark with residual heat, and let the quiet settle around them.
The afternoon melted into dusk, and the night stretched relentlessly all the way until the breaking dawn.
For the entirety of that time, the heavy wooden doors of the Vanguard Madam’s private chambers remained firmly shut. The old Marquis had given strict, barking orders to the household staff that under absolutely no circumstances was the young couple to be disturbed while they were "busy."
In this era, traditional manors were built with paper-thin lattice screens and wooden walls that were practically allergic to soundproofing. Furthermore, ancient servants were essentially the equivalent of walking, breathing, high-definition surveillance cameras. Every maid, guard, and eunuch stationed within a hundred-yard radius of the courtyard knew exactly why they weren’t allowed to knock.
When the first rays of the morning sun finally pierced through the window lattices, Heena’s eyes fluttered open.
It wasn’t that she had gotten enough sleep. It was simply her ruthless internal clock, honed by years of strict military discipline and the unforgiving schedule of the morning imperial court, violently dragging her out of unconsciousness.
(Bullshit, she is awake because she was hungry and also because she wants to drink water, nothing else.)
She took a deep breath, braced her hands against the mattress, and tried to sit up.
"Damn it," Heena hissed through her teeth, instantly freezing in place.
Her waist felt as though someone had taken a heavy iron warhammer and brutally snapped her spine in half. The lingering soreness in her muscles was so intense it actually rivaled the physical toll of a three-day battlefield campaign. The throbbing migraine from yesterday was completely gone, beautifully erased from her system, but it had been replaced by an entirely different kind of absolute physical ruin.
Heena let out a long, exhausted sigh and turned her head to the side.
Samuel was lying right beside her, still deeply asleep. The tangled white silk sheets were pooled around his waist, leaving his broad, heavily scarred, and completely bare chest exposed to the cool morning air.
His usually immaculate, perfectly styled hair was a magnificent mess. The long, dark strands had come completely undone during the night, spilling across the pillows and falling over his face, half-covering his sharp cheekbones and closed eyes.
Heena paused, the annoyance at her broken waist momentarily fading.
She slowly raised her hand, ignoring the ache in her shoulder, and gently brushed the heavy curtain of hair back from his face, tucking the dark strands behind his ear. His breathing remained deep and even, leaning slightly into the warmth of her touch even in his sleep.
She stared at his relaxed, devastatingly handsome profile bathed in the soft golden light of the dawn.
She had to admit, there was a serious aesthetic advantage to this timeline. Say what you want about the lack of modern medicine or indoor plumbing, but these ancient men with their long, flowing hair and perfectly sculpted features were incredibly, almost unfairly gorgeous. He looked less like a scheming, venomous politician and more like a literal, sleeping god of war.
Hovering by the far corner of the ceiling, a faint, glitching blue light finally flickered back to life.
The System’s digital eyes slowly opened, booting up from its self-imposed, traumatized sleep mode. It floated down tentatively, scanning the absolute destruction of the bedchamber. The silk curtains were torn, the pillows were scattered across the floor, and the heavy mahogany bedframe looked as though it had barely survived a localized earthquake.
"Host...?" the System whispered telepathically, its voice carrying the tone of a soldier surveying a disaster zone. "Are you alive?"
’Barely,’ replied in her mind, letting out a quiet, painful groan as she tried to shift her legs over the edge of the mattress. ’My waist is completely broken.’
The digital lion floated closer, taking one look at Samuel’s sleeping, incredibly smug face, and then at the bruises littering ’s shoulders.
"Well," the System coughed awkwardly, trying to look anywhere but at the bed. "You demanded the medicine. It seems the scholar administered a lethal dose. Also... it is time for the morning court assembly."
sighed. As much as she wanted to lie in this warm bed for the next three business days, the political fallout from yesterday’s massacre of the Prime Minister was going to be the main event at court today. The Vanguard Marquisate had to show up to solidify their absolute victory and ensure none of the Prime Minister’s remaining allies tried any desperate counterattacks.
She braced her hand against the headboard, gritted her teeth, and prepared to stand up.
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