My Xianxia Harem Life

Chapter 389: Chapter 389 Background

A slow, excited smile touched Riley’s lips as his gaze settled upon the sight before him.

Iris lay back against the silken pillows, her body a study in trusting abandon, and at its apex was the fresh, smooth, wet pussy offered so willingly to him.

The air, thick with the scent of her arousal—a mix of sweet musk and warm skin—hung between them like an intoxicating perfume.

In that suspended moment, he truly could not believe his luck.

But now, with Iris’s desire laid bare, her eyes dark with need, he silenced his inner awe and gratitude.

He was more than willing to accept this boon with open arms, to lose himself in the tangible reality of her affection.

His earlier urgency melted away, replaced by a calm stillness.

This was not an act to be rushed.

He wanted to memorize this moment, the delicate pink folds glistening in the soft light of their chamber, a silent promise of the pleasure to come.

Without further ado, he dipped his head, not with brute force, but with the deliberate grace of a man approaching an altar.

He bypassed her cunt for a heartbeat, placing a soft, lingering kiss on the inside of her thigh, feeling the muscle quiver in response.

Then, and only then, did he close the final distance and press his mouth to her delicious, heated center.

”Ahhhhh...” Iris’s reaction was instantaneous, a sharp, shuddering exhalation that was more prayer than mere moan.

Her hands flew to his hair, her fingers not gripping but tangling, anchoring herself to him as the first wave of sensation crashed over her.

Riley was, as ever, devastatingly good with his mouth and tongue.

He was not frantic, but methodical, a connoisseur of her pleasure.

He used the flat of his tongue for broad, soothing strokes that made her arch her back, then the precise, pointed tip to trace patterns that had her gasping nonsense into the air.

A few breaths later, and her soft whimpers began to climb, her sexy voice rising on a powerful crescendo.

In the throes of such overwhelming feeling, Iris didn’t care who might hear her beyond their sanctuary.

The thought was fleeting, irrelevant. Not that they could, of course.

This private chamber was shielded by various powerful formations, woven into the very stones and timbers.

Sound-proofing was the least of its mystical effects; it was a bastion of privacy, a bubble where the outside world ceased to exist.

Empowered by this knowledge, she moaned louder, a raw, unfiltered sound of ecstasy that was her gift to him.

The effect she had on Riley was equally profound.

Each cry, each tremble that ran through her body, was a direct current straight to his cock.

He was hard as a rock, a dull, persistent ache of need that throbbed in time with her heartbeat.

But the pleasure he took from her response was more than just physical; it was a deep, resonant satisfaction that bloomed in his chest.

To see her, his strong, clever Iris, completely unraveled by his touch, was a power more heady than any magic.

He redoubled his efforts, his focus absolute, driven by the singular purpose of pushing her higher, of watching her come completely undone by his hand and his mouth, before he would even think of seeking his own release.

The world had shrunk to the space of their rumpled bed, to the scent of her arousal and the sound of their shared, ragged breaths.

Riley, devoted and determined, worshipped at the altar of his wife.

His mouth was a study in devotion against the heat of Iris’s virgin pussy, a term of endearment he used for the most intimate part of her.

He wasn’t just eating her out; he was learning her, savoring her, committing every sigh and tremble to memory.

He began with slow, languid licks, tracing the outer folds until they were slick and glistening.

He savored the taste of her, a unique flavor that was purely Iris—sweet and musky, like rain on warm earth.

Each time his tongue flattened against her, a fresh wave of her essence would seep out, and he would drink it down with a soft, appreciative groan.

The sounds were obscenely intimate: the wet, rhythmic laps of his tongue, the soft suction of his lips, and the low, guttural sounds of pleasure he made in the back of his throat.

Then his fingers joined the symphony.

With a tenderness that belied the fierce desire coursing through him, he used his thumbs to spread her tight pussy lips apart, exposing the delicate, flushed pink flesh within.

The sight was his undoing.

He dove in with renewed fervor, his tongue no longer broad and sweeping, but now pointed and probing, seeking entry into her very depths.

Iris’s response was a crescendo of raw, unfiltered sound.

The moans that escaped her were indeed legendary, an obvious sign to the pleasure he was wringing from her very soul.

”Ahhhhhh....” It started as a gasp, a sharp intake of air that caught in her throat.

”Ohhhhh....” It melted into a long, drawn-out sigh of surrender, her back arching off the mattress.

”Ugjhhh...” Finally, it became a guttural, primal noise, something ancient and instinctual, as his thumb found its target and began to circle her swollen clit with a perfect, torturous pressure.

Iris felt as if she were unraveling.

She could not believe that such an all-consuming feeling was possible.

It wasn’t just pleasure; it was a force of nature.

A wildfire of lust and desire spread from her core, covering her entire body in a flush of heat.

Her nerves were alight, every inch of her skin hyper-aware.

Rational thought dissolved, replaced by a single, driving need for more.

All she could do was surrender to the sensation. Her hands fisted in the sheets, her knuckles white.

Instinctively, she spread her legs wider, a silent, desperate invitation.

Then, she raised her hips off the bed, a beautiful, offering arch that gave her husband the best possible access to her wet, aching pussy.

She was completely open, completely vulnerable, and utterly trusting.

With such a masterful and multi-faceted attack—the deep, penetrating thrusts of his tongue, the relentless, circling pressure on her clit, the occasional gentle scrape of his teeth—it did not take long for the coiled tension within Iris to snap.

The pressure built, a brilliant, tightening knot deep in her belly. Her breaths came in short, frantic pants.

The world began to blur at the edges, the only clear things being the feeling of his mouth on her and the sound of her own voice crying his name.

”Riley... husband.... I’m coming!”

Her scream was one of pure, unadulterated release.

As the first powerful wave of her orgasm crashed over her, her body seized, and a hot gush of fluid splashed against Riley’s chin and face.

She was squirting, something that had only happened a handful of times in their marriage, always when his lovemaking was at its most profound.

But Riley, the master of her pleasure, did not stop. If anything, he intensified his efforts.

He held her hips firmly, anchoring her as she bucked and writhed, and continued to eat her with a relentless hunger.

He drank from her, licking and sucking as the aftershocks of her first climax still rippled through her.

The sensation was overwhelming.

The direct stimulation on her hypersensitive flesh was almost too much, a sharp, exquisite edge to the fading bliss.

Just as she thought she couldn’t take any more, the sharpness began to bloom into a new, deeper, more resonant pleasure.

The embers of her first orgasm were fanned back into a flame.

A second, slower, more rolling wave began to build, catching her by surprise.

”Ohhhhhh...” A broken sob escaped her lips as this new, unexpected peak rushed toward her.

This was it—her first true taste of multiple, back-to-back orgasms, a gift bestowed upon her by her husband’s unwavering dedication.

And she was more than ready to receive it.

The world swam back into focus in a slow, dizzying whirl.

A breath Iris didn’t realize she’d been holding rushed from her lungs in a sharp, shuddering gasp.

The frantic, delicious friction was gone, replaced by a profound, throbbing stillness that echoed through her very cunt.

Her eyes, heavy-lidded and blurred, found Riley as he finally stilled.

He rose from between her trembling thighs, a vision of pure, primal devotion.

The dim light of the room caught the slick, glistening evidence of her pleasure sheening his chin and cheeks.

Her own essence, darkening the skin around his smirking mouth, marked him as hers.

A hot flush of something wild and possessive surged through her, so potent it should have been shame, but felt instead like triumph.

He didn’t wipe it away. He didn’t even seem to notice, or if he did, he wore it like a badge of honor.

Instead, a slow, utterly smug smile spread across his face, a smile that reached his dark, gleaming eyes.

It was the look of a man who had unraveled a sacred secret and was immensely pleased with his discovery.

”Riley...” she whispered, her voice a hoarse thread of sound.

He answered by lowering himself, his body a welcome weight atop hers, and captured her mouth in a deep, languid kiss.

”Hmmmm....” The sound vibrated from her throat into his, a sound of pure, unadulterated surrender.

She kissed him back, her hands coming up to tangle in the damp hair at the nape of his neck.

And there it was—on his lips, a faint, musky-sweet taste, uniquely and intimately her.

The taste of her own desire, of her climax, passed from his mouth to hers in a kiss that felt more binding than any vow.

It was not foreign or strange; it was a revelation. It was the taste of her own power, given and then returned to her by the man who had wielded it so expertly.

This was a first. Not just the act itself, but this raw, unvarnished aftermath.

The taste of herself on a lover’s lips, the unashamed mess of it, the way he looked at her not as someone he had pleased, but as a force of nature he had been privileged to witness.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, a wild drumbeat matching the lingering pulses deep within her.

As the kiss broke, he nuzzled her cheek, his breath warm against her ear.

”You are beautiful, Iris. So beautiful,” he murmured, the words a low rumble that she felt as much as heard.

Iris could only cling to him, her mind reeling, her body singing.