Phei's hands moved with reverent finality.
He removed everything she was still wearing—slow, deliberate pulls and tears until nothing remained between her skin and the night air. The ruined silk on her lower thighs fell away in soft, expensive shreds, before pooling forgotten at her feet.
Cassiopeia's heavy breasts were heaving with each ragged breath, nipples dark and swollen from earlier worship, stomach softly concave above the flare of her hips, the shadowed dip of her navel still glistening from his tongue.
Lower—her pussy mound flushed and swollen, outer lips puffy and parted just enough to reveal the glossy inner folds, fat clit throbbing visibly under the neon, already leaking slow, thick strands of slick that stretched and dripped down her inner thighs in glossy rivulets.
He twisted her hair in one fist—gentle but unyielding—guiding her forward until her front pressed flush against the cold window.
