The echoes of Yilan's moan still hung in the humid air of the pavilion as Shen Yu broke the kiss, though he did not pull away. His forehead remained pressed against hers, their breaths mingling in hot, ragged hitches. The water of the pool rippled violently around them, disturbed by the frantic beating of two hearts that had finally found their rhythm.
"It is not yet finished, Yilan," he murmured, his voice thick with a dark, velvet authority.
He didn't let her settle. He reached for the silk cloth once more, but his eyes never left hers, watching the way her pupils were blown wide with an intoxicating mix of shock and desperate craving.
He began to wash her breasts properly, his hands moving with agonising slowness. The cloth glided over the pale, heavy mounds, swirling the warm water and scented oils over her skin.
Slick. Slick.
