The thermal assault of the Nine Yin Lunar Phoenix was relentless. Meng Yan leaned over him, her emerald hair a curtain of silk that smelled of jasmine and sweat, her eyes burning with the fire of a woman who had finally found her true purpose.
"Is the temperature to your liking, my Lord?" she whispered into his mouth, her tongue darting out to lick the seam of his lips before she plunged back into a deep, soul-consuming kiss.
Slap Slap Slap Squelch—
She began to pick up the pace, her hips moving in a blurring, circular grind. The sensation was a chaotic masterpiece; one second Shen Yu felt like he was being forged in the heart of a star, the next he was being preserved in a tomb of eternal ice.
Meng Yan reached down, her fingers digging into the muscle of his thighs to pull him deeper into her, her internal walls rippling with a rhythmic, pulsing suction that felt like a thousand tiny mouths worshiping him at once.
