Holy Night: My Husband is Definitely a Paladin - Chapter 343
TL: Elphie / PR: Mikan
Chup. Tssup.
Lewd, wet sounds echoed in Ireneās ears, the sounds of flesh being licked, pulled, and taken.
She didnāt find it strange. After all, she still had Michael in her mouth.
Maybe it was because sheād done exactly as he asked.
Her motions now, taking him in and letting him slip free, had grown far more practiced than before. There was no trace of the awkwardness sheād started with.
She wore nothing. Only the veil of her long, silver hair fell across her bare skin, brushing against her shoulders, clinging to the swell of her b*****s with every slow movement.
Whenever she moved, that silver shimmer caught the light, flickering over the gentle rise and fall of her chest.
Michael watched her. Arms braced on either side of the bed, gaze lowered andĀ unblinking.
As if he were admiring the most exquisite work of art the world had ever known.
His eyes traced her, and they were hungry, reverent, and almost cruel in their precision. If a stare could leave marks, sheād have been scraped bare by now. That was how thoroughly he devoured her with his gaze.
And then when she took him deeper, there was a sudden clench, an involuntary response, and Michael twitched against her.
āHnnā¦ā
The breath escaped him slowly, unbidden. Half a sigh, half a groan, thick with heat and restraint.
The blood rushing downward throbbed so violently it felt like it might burst at any moment. If he so much as relaxed for a second, it was clear heād spill everything heād been holding back messily and shamelessly.
Perhaps Irene sensed the moment approaching too. The strain on her face gave way to a faint light.
She was braced for what she thought was coming, but Michaelās expression, flush with the pleasure sheād been giving him, suddenly froze.
And just as a faint curve tugged at the corner of his lips, he moved. Just a slight lift of his hips, a sharp, deliberate thrust upward.
āMmph!ā
The sound Irene made was one of startled pain.
She had been taking him in as deeply as she could. His sudden motion struck the back of her throat with brutal accuracy.
She couldnāt keep him in. Coughing, choking, she let him go and sat back, the fit of it wracking her small frame with each breathless hack.
Michael, silent, handed her a glass of clear, cold water.
Where the glass had come from, or how it had arrived in his hand, she had no idea. But in that moment, she didnāt question it.
She took it and drank.
The coolness slid down her throat and with it, the coughing ebbed. The haze lifted. She slowly came back to herself.
āWas it too much for you?ā
At his words, Irene shot him a glare, eyes narrowed in disbelief.
How could he ask that so innocently, like he hadnāt the faintest idea, when he was the sole reason she was in this state to begin with?
Her glare only made Michael smile. He propped his chin on his hand, his voice light.
āBut darling, itās only hard because you werenāt doing it properly.ā
āI wasnāt doing it properly? Do you even realize how long Iāve beenā¦!ā
She almost shouted āHow long do you think Iāve been holding you in my mouth!ā, but the words got stuck in her throat. The embarrassment hit her like a second wave.
She bit down on her lip instead, unable to say more.
In the end, she snapped, her voice edged with frustration.
āThis should be enough. Let me rest already.ā
And she meant it. Her jaw ached so badly from staying in that position for so long, she could barely feel it anymore. The numbness was starting to scare her.
She rubbed her sore jaw, trying to massage some feeling back into it. Thatās when Michael pulled her into him, her back pressed gently against his chest.
Then, without a word, he brought his fingers to her chin, to the aching joint, and pressed down with a firm, steady touch.
The dull ache in her jaw began to ease under his touch.
Irene gave up on arguing and simply let his hand guide herāgentle, precise, and maddeningly kind. As always, he knew just how much pressure to apply, how to soothe the tension without a word.
Maybe he really was going to let her rest.
Her shoulders began to relax, breath evening out just slightly, until Michael leaned in and murmured by her ear.
āBut we’re not done yet.ā
āWhat do you mean, it’s not over? What more do you want me to do?ā
She turned her head sharply, horror dawning across her face. He met her look with the most shameless expression imaginable.
