Free Web NovelChapter 499: Chapter 499- Pleasure Me
Raven turned.
She had pushed herself into exactly the wrong position.
Her thick body was pressed against his front — her tits smooshed into his chest through the fabric of her dress, the warm, heavy mounds flattening against him, her wide hips against his thighs, her face level with his collarbone.
She realized this.
She did not step back.
She could not step back because her legs were not making independent decisions anymore.
His arms came down.
His hands found her ass.
Both palms, closing around both heavy cheeks through the fabric of her commoner dress — the thick, full weight of them filling his grip completely, the softness of her pressed between his fingers and the fabric.
He lifted.
Not fully off the ground — but the upward pressure under her ass made her go up on her toes, her heels leaving the flagstone, her whole thick body forced upward, her tits dragging up his chest with the motion, her chin arriving at his shoulder level.
"AAAHH—" The sound left her throat without her permission. "W-wait — wait — it feels strange — wait—"
Her hands pressed against his chest.
"S-Sir Dragon — please — I—"
"One day," he said.
His voice was even. Unhurried. The tone of a man who has made a calculation and is delivering the result.
"Tonight." He looked at her face from above — her wide, wet, panicked eyes, her full lips trembling, her warm-toned skin flushed from the bridge of her nose to her collarbones. "After tonight, I am done with you."
His finger moved.
It found the back of her dress — the fabric over her lower back, trailing downward, finding the cleft between her cheeks and pressing inward along the fabric until the cloth pushed against her anal area. One finger. Over the dress. Pressing and holding.
Rika’s body did something involuntary.
A full-body twitch — not away, not toward, just a seismic shudder that ran from the point of contact upward through her spine and out through her shoulders. Her hands pressed harder against his chest. Her toes curled against the flagstone.
"I—" she said. "I cannot cheat my husband."
The words came out at approximately one-third of their intended conviction.
The rest of the conviction had been dissolved by the finger still pressing against her anal area through the fabric.
"I see," he said.
His finger moved. Up. Down. Slow, deliberate, the fabric rubbing against the cloth beneath it.
"Does he—" the finger pressed, "—fuck you well?"
Rika’s mouth opened.
Her Truth-Sight activated on the question involuntarily — probing for the lie in it, finding instead that the question was genuine and returning nothing, which meant she was expected to answer.
Her wide hips shifted. She could not help it. The pressure of the finger, the tiptoe position he had put her in, the heat transferring from his body through her dress — her hips moved in the small, helpless arc of a woman whose body had started a sentence her mind had not approved.
"Yes—" she managed. "Yes, Dragon Lord. There was a minor... accident."
He stopped the finger.
"What kind of accident?"
She felt his amusement before she heard it — the particular quality of attention that changed when something unexpected arrived.
She pressed her lips together. freewёbnoνel.com
She looked at his collarbone.
She could not say it. She could not say: ’my husband broke his penis having sex with me because someone interrupted us and startled him at an inopportune structural moment.’ She could not produce this sentence in front of a dragon who was currently holding her ass off the ground with both hands on a frozen public street.
"He broke his—" she stopped. "There was a structural injury. During our wedding night."
The silence lasted approximately one second.
Raven’s chest moved.
It was not a sound exactly. It was the physical precursor to a sound — the diaphragm movement of a man who has received information that requires containment. His shoulders shifted. His jaw moved.
"I see," he said again.
His voice was extremely controlled.
"It must have been," he said, "very difficult."
His hand moved on her ass. A slow, full-palmed squeeze that pressed both cheeks inward and released them. Rika made a sound between her closed lips that she would not catalog.
"For a body like yours," he continued, "to go without daily attention."
"I just married him," she said immediately. "It has not been long. I am perfectly—"
"Your body," he said, "disagrees."
The heat hit her without warning.
Not external heat — not his hands, not the afternoon sun on the frozen street. Internal. A warmth that started somewhere at the base of her belly and moved outward, slow and deliberate and entirely without her consent. It moved into her thighs. Into the backs of her knees. Into the space between her legs where she absolutely did not want warmth to be accumulating right now.
She did not know what was happening.
She did not know about incubus fields. She did not know about aphrodisiac mana that transferred through sustained proximity, that moved through skin contact and breath and the specific electromagnetic output of a body built to produce it. She did not know that the warmth was manufactured, that her accelerating pulse was being assisted, that the saliva gathering at the back of her throat was not her own doing.
All she knew was that she was on her toes on a frozen street with both heavy tits pressed against a dragon’s chest and her body was doing things she had not instructed it to do.
"I am perfectly—" she started again.
Her voice came out wrong.
Softer. Blurred at the edges. The particular texture of a voice when the body that produces it has started prioritizing other functions.
She pressed her lips together.
Her eyes went sideways to Esvan.
Her husband stood frozen three feet away, arm raised, shirt open, the bandaging across the chest visible from this angle. The fine jaw was set. The short hair was displaced. The expression was fixed in its furious, protective configuration.
’He would be furious,’ she thought. ’If he could see this. If he knew—’
"I promise," Raven said, close to her ear, "I would leave your husband healed."
She felt his breath against the side of her face.
"Strong," he said. "Healthy." A pause weighted with something she could not name. "A proper husband. One capable of handling a woman of your—" his hands moved again on her ass, the full weight of both cheeks reorganizing in his grip, "—construction."
Rika’s eyes went wide.
She turned her head.
His face was directly beside hers — close enough that she could see the purple of his eyes at a distance that should not be allowed between strangers.
"A proper—" she said.
"His injury, healed," he said. "His capability, improved. Everything a wife with your body requires to be—" the finger at her anal area pressed again, through the dress, "—properly maintained."
The warmth in her belly moved lower.
She was aware of this.
She was very unhappy about being aware of this.
"I cannot," she said. The words came out softer than she intended. Softer than anything she had said all afternoon. "I cannot cheat him. Even if—" even if it would heal him, even if it would give him back what broke, even if her body was currently doing things without her instruction. "Even so."
He leaned down.
His mouth found the side of her neck — not kissing, just the warmth of his lips against the skin below her ear, the breath moving across it.
"Pleasure me," he said, very quietly. "And I will give your husband a strong, healthy, permanent improvement. Everything he lost and everything he never had."
