Garden of May

Chapter 47

The sheets beneath her face reeked of dried salt and fluids. She tried to lift her hips and legs, but they were leaden, unresponsive. Her body had long since reached its limit. Even her mind, which had stubbornly clung to consciousness, had begun to drift after the third… change of position. She’d lost all track of time after that.

“Hngh…”

As he withdrew, a mixture of s*men and her own fluids trickled from the still-sensitive opening, splashing onto the soaked sheets, adding new stains to the existing mess.

“No… Vanessa.”

After the countless cl1max, just as Vanessa instinctively tried to pull away, he caught her ankles, lifting and spreading them across his shoulders. He rearranged her, his movements practiced and efficient.

“If you force someone to taste something they don’t want… you have to take responsibility for it to the end.”

‘He’s the one forcing me.’

“My… carefully guarded virtue…” Vanessa glared at him, her eyes trembling. She’d wager everything she had that he wasn’t a v1rgin. No v1rgin moved with such practiced ease.

While she was momentarily stunned, he subtly lifted her hips. The pen*s that had only partially withdrawn plunged back in, impaling her.

“Nnngh!”

He gripped her convulsing hips, pulling her deeper against him. The hardened tip of his pen*s ground against her swollen, sensitive walls. Fresh trails of moisture appeared on her sweat-slicked, white thighs.

He chuckled, a sound somewhere between a moan and a laugh, and nipped at her calf resting on his shoulder. Her leg jerked, but he held it fast. His thrusts, which had been slow and languid, gained speed.

“Ah, hngh! Hngh…”

Her slick inner walls offered no resistance, accepting his relentless pounding. With each thrust, the flared tip of his pen*s grazed her exquisitely sensitive cl*t. Moans tumbled from her parted lips.

“Ah…ngh…haah…ngh…ngh…”

He gripped her hips as she cried out, a high, keening sound. He withdrew fully, then plunged back into her flushed opening. A hard thrust, grinding against her perineum. Her vision blurred with each thrust, the force of them keeping her tethered to consciousness.

“Hee…ngh…ah…!”

Repeated cl*maxes heightened her senses. Everything was hot and sour. The air was thick, their bodies slick, and the taste of iron coated her tongue.

“Ah…hngh…ah…ngh…” Vanessa moaned, blinking her wet lashes. Her hazy vision focused solely on his smooth face. His effortless composure was infuriating.

‘I’d have to take better care of this body.’

Not like River Ross, who abused his with alcohol, tobacco, and horribly bitter tea. How could this man be so…tireless? So animalistic?

Another wave of pleasure crashed over her. Her back arched, her body rigid. Her vision swam, then faded.

***

Vanessa woke to the sensation of being lifted. Her eyes were gritty and refused to open. Her throat ached. She felt drained, as if every drop of moisture had been wrung from her body. She nuzzled her throbbing forehead against the chest of the person holding her.

‘Why can’t I just stay unconscious?’

“You can’t. You’ll be sore if you fall asleep like this.” It was as if he’d read her mind. She whimpered in protest, and a large, cool hand soothed her sweat-sticky forehead. The gentle touch against her fevered skin drew a soft moan from her lips.