BTT Chapter 4: Oceanic Bliss: Exploring Iluzhan’s Depths
The scent of her rose between us, warm and sweet, a fragrance so intoxicating it drowned out everything else in the room. Her juices were still glistening on my lips, her arousal spread across my tongue like erotic aromatherapy. Each inhale made my heartbeat stutter with hunger, made my erection throb with a new, desperate kind of need.
Iluzhah lay back on the bed, her chest rising and falling with satisfaction, her face painted with that soft, smug glow of a woman who knew she had complete mastery over my body. Her pleasure looked like art—subtle, sensual, powerful.
And God… I was still in disbelief that she allowed me inside her temple at all. I felt honored just to share the same air with her, let alone the same sheets. I didn’t feel worthy of her—hell, I didn’t feel worthy of her planet—but I wasn’t going to waste a second of what she was giving me.
I crawled over her slowly, deliberately—like a lion closing in on prey he worships more than he hunts. She held my gaze, that dangerous eye contact that made my entire soul fold in half.
I lowered myself toward her lips, hungry for another taste. But before my mouth reached hers, she flicked her tongue out—slow, teasing, a sensual invitation—and licked the remaining cream from the corners of my lips.
That single touch sent electric pulses down my spine.
My cock twitched harder.
My breath caught.
“Mmm,” she whispered, licking her own lips.
“Now come inside me, King…”
I guided myself toward her again. The moment my tip pressed against her entrance, she inhaled sharply. As I slowly pushed in, her relaxed expression tightened into pure pleasure.
“Aah—yes…” she moaned, voice trembling.
The thick girth of my head brushed across her G-spot the moment it entered. She clawed into my back—her real nails, real strength—dragging lines of heat across my skin, and God, it lit me up.
Her sigh was long, broken, almost tearful—like I’d lifted every burden from her body just by sliding into her.
“King… don’t stop,” she breathed. “Fill me… slow…”
I obeyed—slow strokes, deep strokes, exploring every corner of her warm, tight flesh. Our colors blended—my dark chocolate length disappearing into her rosy softness like something holy.
Each thrust made her moan sweeter, louder, a melody that wrapped around me and pulled me deeper.
Her pleasure sounded like my favorite song, the kind you replay before it even finishes.
I needed more of that music.
I lifted her legs up, folding her soft thighs toward her chest. Then I dove as deep as my body could go.
“Oh—my—God—KING!” she cried, her voice pitching high.
Her eyes widened, then rolled back. Her mouth fell open. Her body trembled beneath me. I watched her unravel at the depth, watched her soul press against her skin.
That sight broke every restraint I had left.
I thrust harder, deeper, faster—fucking her with purpose, with hunger, with devotion. Her breasts rippled beautifully with every stroke, bouncing like waves in some divine ocean.
And that sight—those perfect breasts moving under my force—lit something primal in me.
I’m in control here, I thought.
She’s just taking everything I give her.
But that illusion ended fast.
Because she gasped out, “I LOVE HOW YOU FUCK ME!”
Those words hit my ears like fireworks. My rhythm stuttered. My control snapped.
Then she grabbed the back of my neck—firm, commanding—and forced my eyes into hers.
“Look at me,” she demanded softly.
“Look at me while you’re in my soul.”
Her rootbeer eyes pulled me deeper than her body ever could.
I was gone.
She shifted her hips beneath me, tilting her angle, and then she started fucking me back—meeting every thrust with her own, taking me deeper, making me feel owned.
“Oh—shit…” I whispered, breath shaking. “Iluzhah…”
She smiled up through her pleasure, wild, glowing, unstoppable.
“I can see your soul through your eyes,” she whispered.
“And my name… is embroidered all over it.”
That was it.
Those words reached inside me, squeezed, and broke something open. I thrust once—twice—then my body tensed, exploding as heat surged through me. I collapsed onto her sacred body, buried deep, filling her completely.
She screamed—a raw, beautiful, soul-shattering moan—as my release coated the walls of her rosy garden. Her legs wrapped around me tight, pulling me deeper into her orgasmic quake.
When it finally eased, when our breaths were ragged and tangled together, I pressed my lips to hers.
In that moment, kissing her mattered more than breathing.
Who needs air…
when you’re lying in the arms of the woman who owns your entire soul?
