Free Web NovelChapter 500: Chapter 500- Kissed Her
His hands moved her hips.
A slow, deliberate movement — forward against his body, backward away from it, then forward again. Like he was showing her body the motion and letting it decide.
Her hips moved with it.
She felt his cock.
The full, pressing reality of it against her lower belly through the layers of fabric — not soft, not vague, not interpretable as anything other than what it was. The weight and length of it pressing against her through his trousers, the heat of it conducting through the cloth.
Her saliva ran.
She became aware of this because she had to swallow it, which she did, and her eyes went briefly crossed with the effort of managing the information her body was currently providing. freёwebnovel.com
’That is,’ she thought, and could not finish the thought.
Her hands were still on his chest.
She became aware that they had moved slightly — that her fingers had, without her direction, curled into the fabric of his shirt rather than pushing against it.
’Oh no,’ she thought.
The warmth moved lower still.
Her thighs pressed together — involuntary, the muscle memory of a woman managing an inconvenient physiological response.
He moved her hips again.
Her body answered.
Her wide hips rolled forward against him, her cunt pressing against his thigh through the dress, the friction making her exhale through her nose in a sound she absolutely did not intend to make.
"MNPH—"
She pressed her lips together harder.
He looked at her face.
She looked at the stopped form of Esvan over his shoulder.
’For him,’ she thought. ’Only for him. To heal him. To give him back what—’
Her Truth-Sight fired on this thought and returned something she did not want to look at.
She looked away from her own internal assessment.
His cock pressed against the small of her back — through his pants, hard, the shape of it unmistakable even through two layers of fabric.
She acted.
"That is—" She inhaled sharply. "That is — what is — that is enormous, that—"
"Is it," he said.
"That cannot possibly—" She swallowed. "That is not — how does that—"
"Fit?" he offered.
"I was not going to say that," she said, with the desperate dignity of a woman who was absolutely going to say that.
He moved her.
His hands found her hips and moved her body — slowly, deliberately — up and down against him, her thick ass sliding against his cock through the fabric, the heavy mounds of her tits bouncing at the front with each motion, her hair swaying at her shoulders.
"Hnh—" Her hands pressed against his forearms, fingers gripping. "Ahn — sir — sir dragon — I cannot — I have a—"
"A husband," he said, and the word carried a warmth that was specifically amused.
"Yes," she breathed.
"Who cannot currently perform his function."
"That is — yes, but—"
"And whose body," he continued, moving her steadily, the friction building through the fabric, "is not designed for this particular work."
She did not understand the second part of the sentence.
Her Truth-Sight flickered.
She pressed it down.
She had been pressing it down since the basin and she was going to continue pressing it down because the alternative required her to reorganize information she was not prepared to reorganize.
A bead of saliva had gathered at the corner of her lips.
She felt it and did not wipe it. Her hands were full of his forearms. Her body was full of the heat he was pressing into her. Her dress was warm between her legs in a way she had stopped pretending was not happening.
"I," she started.
"Mnnh—"
The sound came out instead of words.
He leaned down, his mouth finding the curve of her neck — not kissing, just pressing, the heat of his lips against her skin sending a current down through her collarbone and into the tops of her tits.
"Hnn—!! Nh—!!"
Her toes pressed hard against the flagstone.
Her hips had stopped fighting his hands entirely.
"I am repeating this again just for you human, I promise," he said, into the side of her neck, his voice low and warm and carrying the particular devil-ease of a man who knows exactly what he is doing, "to give your husband a strong, good, and healthy—"
She went rigid.
"—dick," he finished, "before I leave."
She stopped breathing.
He held her through the stopped breath, his hands still on her hips, his cock still pressed against her back, his mouth still at her neck.
She looked at the frozen face of her husband.
The open shirt. The bandaging visible at the chest. The fine jaw. The dark lashes.
She did not look at it long.
She turned her face away.
"Before you leave," she repeated.
Her voice was very small.
"Your husband," he said, pleasantly, "can have all the time with it he wants. After."
Of course, that dick doesn’t have to be attached to her husband’s body biologically but stuffed inside of him—her....
She stood in the center of the frozen world.
The black-and-white street stretched in every direction. The frozen crowd. The frozen dust. The frozen child at the frozen well.
Her body was warm in a way it had not been warm in weeks.
Her dress was wet between her legs in a way she was going to have to accept had happened.
Her husband stood three feet away, frozen, chest open, and she was in the arms of a dragon who had just promised to provide her husband with a functional organ in exchange for her body for one night.
The logic of this was insane.
The incubus warmth moving through her blood thought the logic was perfectly sound.
"A — a dick," she repeated.
He said nothing.
Waited.
"That my husband," she said, her voice gaining a faint, hysterical quality at the edges, "can always have."
"And use," he offered.
She made a sound.
"And use," she whispered.
Her head bowed.
Her lips were trembling.
"Just—" The words came out unsteady, her voice doing the blurred, softened thing again. "Just one—"
"One night," he confirmed.
"You will truly—"
"A proper husband," he said. "For a wife like you."
Her hands moved.
They moved from his chest upward — past his collarbone, up the side of his neck, into his hair. Her fingers found the dark strands and gripped them, not gently, the grip of a woman who has made a decision she will rationalize extensively later and is currently just acting on it.
She pulled.
She pulled his face down to hers.
Her mouth found his mouth.
The kiss landed.
Her full lips pressed against his, warm and wet and slightly desperate, the full force of a woman who has been building toward something since morning without admitting it. She sucked his lower lip, her thick body pressing against him, her tits smooshed completely flat against his chest, her wide hips rolling against him on their own timetable.
He kissed her back.
His hand came up to the back of her head, fingers threading through her dark hair, gripping it at the base of her skull and holding her there — not gently, with the deliberate force of someone who knows exactly how hard to grip.
SLURRRP—
The sound was wet and real and obscene in the frozen silence of the street, her saliva and his exchanging between sealed lips, her muffled sounds coming against his mouth.
"MPNNHPPP~~!!"
