Born for Silk (The Cradled Common)

Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Aster

After we bathe, he is true to his demand.

I squeeze my eyes shut as I ride the strong, wet muscle in his mouth. My body hums from overstimulation. I cannot take much more—my skin prickles, stretching around my swollen belly; his mouth and tongue explore my wet, pulsing core; And the pregnancy leaves me feverish beyond reason.

“Rome,” I whimper, squeezing the bedframe as I rock on his long, thick tongue. His hands hold me up, supporting my body as I shudder and lose balance. I roll backward, using his rough chin at my opening, retreating from my climax. Still scared of it… I do that. It’s so much.

“You like sitting on your king’s face.” His voice is rough like gravel and greedy like a flame licking for oxygen. “Come back here. Don’t wriggle this little arse away. Don’t shy away.” Hot, demanding palms trail to my hips, grab and angle them, steering my hesitant movements.

“Rome…” His name is a moan of anguish on my lips. My temperature spikes, sweat films my skin, as his devious kiss becomes greedy.

As he flicks my clit with his tongue, he quickly stokes the pleasure inside me. Builds heat.

The room gets small. No thoughts. No shame. He rocks me on the firm, wet plane, throwing me into the pit of stimulation. No way out. No escape. The only way forward is through the heart of it to the other side where bliss awaits me.

My core tightens, my pussy undulates around the thrusting of his demanding tongue, and I burst apart, thrashing my head from side to side as my muscles gyrate and convulse.

Bliss…

“Rome. Oh . My king.”

He laps me gently, helping me ride the pleasure down. “I’ve got you, sweet creature.”

Sighing peacefully, I loosen my hold on the bedhead and just sit on his tongue for a while.

This seems so indecent. So…unnatural. And perfect. He is right. The pregnancy makes me want this, all the time. I am constantly wet for him.

My body is humming, a mindless vessel of pleasure, when he says, “Now that my Silk Girl is relaxed and wet.” His hand presses the centre of my back, arching me so his tongue can dip to a private place between my cheeks.

“Rome!” I fist the wooden frame.

He stops. “You drip everywhere. My soaking, little creature.” Lifting me an inch higher, he manages to slide out with me on my knees.

“Keep hold of the bed. Stay like that.”

Peering quietly over my shoulder, I watch his magnificent, steel-like physique step from the mattress, a naked, all-muscles Xin De man striding across the room. His backside is so firm, perfectly moulded.

He stops by the small cabinet and pours a drink; the sound of a spoon singing on a glass makes me shuffle with uncertainty.

He turns, and I look back at the wall as he catches me ogling him.

“Like what you see?” he purrs.

A blush creeps up my neck. “Yes, Rome.”

“I like my name on your lips.”

I hear him groan, but don’t peer back to watch what he is doing. I merely listen as his heavy breaths gain in volume and then stop...

Shit.

“Rome?”

At the sound of his menacing steps, I risk another glance to view him, powerful in his gait, long, toned legs, and a heavy, veined cock beating at his abdomen, entirely too big to be human. Glossy, too. With something oily? It looks polished.

Stopping beside me, he cups the back of my head and holds the cool crystal to my lower lip.

“Open,” he orders, pouring the liquid into my mouth.

Obediently, I swallow.

“Good girl. That’s La Mu Leaf serum. It’ll help, sweet creature. Relax you.”

I peer up at him, feeling shy and vulnerable, finding his gaze for strength. He leans down and kisses me slowly. My eyes close to the reassurance of his affection.

He pulls from my lips to inhale my hair, humming to the scent. “Vulnerability.” He straightens. “Look back at the wall.”

I do, and my heart thrashes.

It all happens dream-like. I shiver when he trails his coarse hand up and down my spine, my pulse rushes between my ears when his hot, hard body closes in on me, and I freeze entirely when his fingers touch the place… I blink fast.

“Rome?”

“Are you ready to take your king deep inside your body, little creature? So deep you will struggle to know where I finish, and you begin.”

He grips my hip with one hand and uses his cock on my weeping lips, coating the solid, throbbing length in my slick arousal. “I told you that I would introduce you to all the parts of your pretty body that will make you moan for me.”

Controlled and slow, he pushes into my other hole, and my eyes pop open with only the stretch of his crown.

I squeeze the wooden board. “My king?” I beg, scared, nervous—everything. All at once.

“Reach your hand back. Claw my thigh.”

I intend to when suddenly warmth gathers low in my belly like a soothing whirlpool. A mesmerising presence that brings something pleasantly numbing and…

Am I floating?

“My King…” I wriggle. “I feel strange.”

A coarse palm moves around my smooth waist, stilling at my swollen abdomen. “It is safe for the heir, but will help you with your first time taking me in your tight arsehole. Numb the pain and loosen your pretty rim for me.”

His fingers descend, dipping to my clit where he massages the bead just as he pushes inside me from behind.

I moan for him—hard. Long.

“That’s my girl.”

There is no air.

And too much.

No space.

Yet, I’m swollen.

I cannot do anything but feel him. There is no sting; he made sure of that. Only the feeling of being full, so utterly full—everywhere. And the stretch, the stretch is… exquisite.

Needing more control, he releases my hip and possesses my throat, his arm supporting the front of my torso as he presses me forward with his hips and sinks his throbbing length in until he is flush with my backside. It is as if stones have been set on the base of my pelvis—the weight is otherworldly.

I could crack open.

In half—down the centre.

“You’re doing so good, my sweet creature. No need to ever feel jealous. You have taken all of me. Every inch of my manhood. Every possessive cell in my veins. The dustings of my humanity. All of your king. Yours.”

The sounds from my throat are endless. My pussy spasms with longing, working the empty space he usually fills. As if he understands, two fingers feed between my wet folds to satiate the needy clenching.

He lifts me from my pussy, two fingers deep, his palm a cradle for my pelvis, his cock taking my weight.

I am suspended by him.

The primal groans thundering against my spine encourage me to rock my hips forward along his attentive fingers and roll backward to welcome his firm, thick length as it impales me.

He starts to move.

Really, really move.

My moans become short like a punch while his grunts match the pounding of his hips as he sets a brutal pace, hard enough to beat sounds through my panting lips.

Fuck,” he growls, almost a roar, taking me hard with real desperation, with the beast on the surface. “Look how well you take me. So relaxed for my cock.”

My frantic palms climb the wall behind the bedhead, being lifted beyond the reach of the wooden frame, but it makes no difference. All I can do is brace myself while he dominates me so entirely. I close my eyes and pleasure my king with my willing body, letting him take what he needs, letting him claim. Thrust.

“I love you, my king,” I whimper, my voice breaking, my body plummeting into another bottomless abyss of pleasure just as he loses his pace.

“I need you, little creature.” He comes inside me, groaning and working his length in and out. “Don’t make me jealous! It is unbearable. It is torture.”

Ardent hands paw my body, roaming, exploring as he finds his centre and strength.

Steadily, he pulls out excruciatingly slow, and I moan through the thick of my throat, emptied. Lighter. Exhausted.

I struggle to inhale, exhale—to do anything for a long pause while I regain my thoughts. But my ears tingle. So, I know his eyes are on me.

I finally take a big breath.

“ Yes ,” he gushes, “that’s very pretty. You are coated in cum, mine, yours.”

I don’t see how that is pretty.

“Flowers are pretty,” I murmur.

I hear his smile as he says, “This is my favourite flower. Like the ones you pick, this is mine, too. Mine.” His fingers slide around. “I do not share, understand? Nothing. Not your body. Your scent. Your flowers. Your smiles. Say it?”

Unreasonable…

I must smile at people.

Too fatigued to argue, I mutter, “I am yours,” and slump in his hold, exhaustion clinging to my limbs, pulling me down to the mattress, begging me to relent. Sleep.

He lays on the bed with me on his torso.

Curling to the side, I lift my knees and snuggle into his chest. With my mind satiated, my body heavy under fatigue’s weight, I inhale him as my eyes finally close…