Shen Yu's thrusts were rhythmic and heavy, each impact sending a wet, echoing slap through the spice-scented air of the chamber. Meng Yan was a shattered melody of high-pitched moans, her dignity dissolving with every inch of his dark length that claimed her.
Slap. Squelch. Slap.
"Don't you want to see the truth of what you've become, Yan'er?" Shen Yu's voice was a low, vibrating growl against her ear. "Don't you want to see how a Matriarch looks when she's being hollowed out by a demon?"
"Yes… yes, husband… show me," she whimpered, her fingers digging into his corded forearms as he carried her across the room.
He stood before the towering floor-to-ceiling mirror, a dark god holding his prize. Meng Yan's eyes fluttered open, and the sight that met her was a visceral shock to her system.
