Her nose pressed against his lower abdomen on the deepest push, and her eyes rolled briefly.
He reached to his side — to the wine vessel that the servant had dropped, which had not gone under the bed but had rolled against the bedframe where his hand found it without looking.
He held it up.
The servant, still face-down across Yuxi's back with her mouth pressed against Yuxi's pussy and her entire body trembling in small, continuous shudders, had not seen him reach for it.
She heard the stopper pulled.
She smelled the wine — dark and sweet, aged, the kind of vintage kept for senior clan members — drifting into the cabin air over the existing smell of sweat and sex and female arousal.
She did not understand what it was for yet.
Cang's hand found her hip.
