The part of my brain screamed a useless warning before being drowned in a tidal wave of pure, unadulterated lust. This was no mere aromatic trigger; it was an opiate, a divine command my body was incapable of disobeying—a warfare that left me weaponless and willing.

His mouth began to move again, not with the hesitance of a lover, but with the absolute certainty of a god reacquainting himself with his creation... his mouth found the sliver of exposed skin between my breasts not by chance, but as a magnet finds its pole—inevitable, unstoppable.

He opened his mouth and breathed on it, a warm, damp exhalation of pure intent that made the skin bead with sweat and my breath hitch in a ragged, desperate gasp. My body jerked involuntarily, hips bucking off the mattress as if electrocuted.

"This body..." the word was a resonant frequency that vibrated through my chest, rattling my ribs. "Has been a prayer I've been waiting to answer."

He could see. Not with his eyes, but with some sense far beyond. He could see the constellations of my desire, the intricate network of nerves that lit up like galaxies under his gaze. He saw the frantic pulse hammering in my throat, the flush that bloomed across my chest like a violent, beautiful sunrise.

He saw my nipples, hardening into painful, pleading peaks against the lace of my bra. And he knew, with the certainty of a law he himself had written, that the sensitive, tremulous skin on the soft underswell of my left breast was the very heart of my nervous system.

He lowered his head, and I felt not the brush of his hair, but the displacement of air around an object of immense gravity—a black hole pulling me in. He pressed his open mouth against that exact spot. He didn't kiss or lick.

He let a low, possessive growl resonate from his chest directly into my bloodstream. It wasn't a vibration against my skin; it resonated within my bones, a seismic command that seized the marrow and shattered it.

My spine snapped into an arch, back bowing off the bed with such force that the headboard slammed against the wall, cracking the plaster in a spiderweb of fissures.

A sharp, broken cry was torn from my throat, a sound that didn't feel like it belonged to me—raw, animalistic, echoing off the walls like a battle cry. My hands clawed at the sheets, ripping the fabric in frantic shreds as my body convulsed, thighs clenching and unclenching in violent spasms.

This was beyond pleasure. It was a violent, beautiful rewrite of my biology. A circuit completed, overloaded, exploding.

The synaptic connections of my past, my training, my very identity, short-circuited and incinerated in white-hot flashes behind my eyes.

"Eros!" I gasped, his name not a plea, but a naming of the god who was unmaking me—shredding me apart and forging me anew in his image.

He laughed then, a deep, ancient sound that seemed to originate from the earth's core and echo in the hollows of my soul, shaking the bedframe until it groaned in protest. "I know, love. Now, so do you."

The remaining buttons of my shirt didn't undo; they yielded to his proximity, as if the very fibers of the cotton ached to obey him—popping off in a rapid-fire burst, scattering across the room like shrapnel.

The fabric fell away in tatters, and his gaze was a physical touch, a brand of pure fire that seared my skin, leaving red welts in its wake. He saw everything—the quiver in my belly, the sheen of sweat on my skin—and he approved, his eyes glowing with predatory triumph.

He reached behind me, and with a simple, thoughtless flick of his fingers, the clasp of my bra dissolved—snapping apart with a metallic twang, the straps whipping against my shoulders like lashes.

The cool air was a shock, a meaningless detail against the radiating heat of his stare, but it made my exposed flesh erupt in goosebumps, nipples tightening to agonizing points.

His hands were no longer merely caressing; they were mapping his territory, conquering it with brutal efficiency.

His thumbs brushed the undersides of my breasts, digging in with unyielding pressure, and the loud, uninhibited moan that escaped me was raw, feral—a scream that tore my throat as my body thrashed beneath him, legs kicking wildly, heels drumming against the mattress.

He seized my wrists in one iron grip, pinning them above my head with a force that ground bone against bone, the bed creaking ominously under the strain. His mouth descended, closing over one straining nipple like a vice.

He didn't just suck; he drew on me, a deep, possessive pull that seemed to draw at my very soul, yanking it free in ragged gasps.

He swirled his tongue in a masterful, intricate pattern—circles tightening like a noose—then bit down, not gently, but with a precise, calculated pressure that sank teeth into flesh, drawing a bead of blood.

A bolt of pure lightning shot straight to my clit, exploding outward in shockwaves that ripped through my core. I cried out, a broken, sobbing sound that devolved into a guttural roar, my hips bucking wildly against his unyielding pin, grinding desperately for friction that wasn't there.

My free leg hooked around his thigh, nails raking down his back in bloody furrows, shredding his shirt as I fought to pull him closer, deeper, into the chaos he'd unleashed.

He lavished the same devastating attention on its twin, teeth grazing, tongue lashing with relentless fury, while his hand roamed down to pin my hips to the bed—fingers bruising into my flesh, forcing me still as I writhed and bucked like a wild thing caught in a trap.

He focused his will, and the musk in the air thickened, becoming a tangible, pressurized fog that clung to my skin, made my head swim, my vision blur at the edges in kaleidoscopic bursts. My limbs trembled with aftershocks, muscles seizing in endless contractions, every nerve alight and screaming.

I wasn't drunk on him; I was drowning in him, thrashing in the depths, and I never wanted to surface—only to pull him under with me, to devour and be devoured in this cataclysm of flesh and fire.

His mouth left my aching breasts and began its slow, triumphant journey down my quivering stomach.

Each kiss was a searing seal of ownership, each lick a languid taste of his promised dominion, his tongue delving into my navel with a wet, probing swirl that made my core clench and flood anew.

My hips lifted off the bed, a mindless, desperate offering, grinding upward in slick, rhythmic pulses that smeared my arousal across his chest.

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of my pants, nails grazing the hypersensitive skin just above my mound, and with deliberate, worshipful slowness that was an act of divine torment, he peeled them down my legs, taking my soaked panties with them in one fluid, masterful motion.

The fabric clung obscenely to my dripping folds before peeling away with a wet rip, exposing me utterly—my pussy flushed, swollen, and glistening, lips parted in blatant invitation, clit throbbing visibly under his gaze.

I was bare to him. An offering. A sacrifice, my thighs quaking apart, slick trailing down my ass in hot rivulets.

And he knelt there for a long moment, his eyes not just looking, but devouring—reading the sacred text of my body, every pulse and flutter a verse of my utter submission.

"Perfection," he breathed, the word a guttural command that made my clit twitch and weep. Then, he lowered his head between my thighs, spreading me wider with unyielding hands. He didn't hesitate.

He didn't tease. He laid claim to the very slick, swollen heart of me, and his tongue swept through my folds in one long, masterful, possessive stroke—broad and relentless, lapping up my essence in a single, devouring glide that ignited every nerve.

I screamed. It was the sound of a world ending, of a soul shattering into a million pieces of pure light—raw, guttural, as my body bucked in violent ecstasy. His hands clamped on my hips like manacles forged in heaven, pinning me down as his mouth began its true worship.

This was not pleasure; it was a feasting—a ravenous, soul-deep devouring.

He licked and sucked and tongue-fucked me with a skill that was not merely inhuman, but anti-human, his tongue plunging deep into my clenching heat, curling against that devastating spot while his lips sealed around my clit, sucking with pulsing, rhythmic pulls that drew screams from my throat.

My hands clawed at the sheets, body arching in helpless spasms, walls fluttering wildly around him as slick poured forth in shameless floods.

The loud, broken moans were his now, the hymns he conducted from the very epicenter of my soul—wet, slurping devotions laced with my sobbing pleas.

And Eros, tasting my absolute, unthinking surrender, feeling my orgasm cresting under his masterful, divine tongue—my pussy spasming, gushing hot release into his eager mouth—smiled against my quaking, conquered flesh, his growl vibrating through my core.

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