Phei pulled out of Cassiopeia with a slow deliberate drag—the thick crown of his shaft catching every ridge and quiver of her inner walls on the way out until it slipped free with a sound that belonged in confessionals.
Her entrance stayed parted for a heartbeat, clenching on absence, before a heavy trickle of more of her squirt that had never left her pussy spilled out and marbled the steaming water in pale translucent threads.
'Gorgeous,' Phei thought, and meant it the way a conqueror meant it—looking at a city that had just surrendered its gates once more for him.
He sat back on the submerged obsidian bench, legs planted wide, his rigid length jutting above the waterline like something architectural.
