Chapter 712: A Small Blessing in a Cruel Vault (5)

Chapter 712: A Small Blessing in a Cruel Vault (5)

"PLEASE, YES, FILL ME IN," she said, her voice raw, a command born of need, no shame in it, only a fierce desire that burned through her. I want him inside me, I need him to fill me, she thought, her heart pounding, her body trembling with the intensity of her want.

With a powerful thrust, Mikhailis entered her fully, the sensation a searing wave that filled Thalatha completely, igniting every nerve in her body. "MMMHHHH!!!!!" The cry tore from her, loud and wild, a raw sound that echoed in the slot’s tight confines, but his mouth was there, muffling it, his tongue diving deeper, sucking at hers with a hunger that matched the intensity below. Heaven, she thought, her eyes rolling back as the huge thing pushed against the walls of her cave, stretching her, claiming her in a way that felt both primal and sacred. The pleasure was blinding, a fire that consumed her thoughts, leaving only sensation—heat, fullness, the pulse of him inside her. "SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!" The sound of their bodies colliding rang out, sharp and relentless, a rhythm that filled the slot with its unyielding cadence. The wetter "QUELCH! QUELCH!" followed, raw and intimate, as their bodies moved together, a dance of need that drowned out the world.

This is too much, she thought, her body trembling, the pleasure so intense it felt like it could unravel her. But I want more. The slot’s cold stone seemed to fade, replaced by the heat of him, the rhythm of their shared desire. Her hips rolled instinctively, chasing the fire, each movement drawing him deeper, amplifying the sensation. "MORE!" she gasped, her voice breaking through the kiss, raw and unashamed, a plea that carried no hesitation. Mikhailis answered, his thrusts steady and powerful, filling her again and again, each one a promise kept. "MMHH!! Slrp!" The kiss didn’t stop, their tongues coiling, sucking with a frantic energy that matched the rhythm below. Her tongue curled around his, tasting the fading mint, the salt of his skin, the warmth that was only his, a flavor that felt like a secret she wanted to keep forever. His tongue... it’s like he’s pulling me apart and putting me back together, she thought, her head spinning, her body alive with want.

The slot held them close, its stone walls pressing them together, forcing every movement to be deliberate, every touch magnified. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, nails biting into the muscle beneath his worn shirt, anchoring her to him as the pleasure built. I’m losing myself in this, she thought, the realization both thrilling and terrifying. The days trapped in this slot had changed her, stripped away the general’s armor, leaving her raw, hungry, alive in a way she hadn’t expected. She didn’t pull back—she leaned in, embracing the fire, letting it guide her. Her hips moved faster, more desperate, chasing the heat, the pressure coiling tighter in her core, a spring wound to breaking.

Then, with sudden strength, Mikhailis lifted her again, his hands powerful and sure, carrying her without breaking the rhythm. He pressed her back against the cold stone wall, the contrast sharp against her heated skin, making her gasp. The cold, his heat—it’s too much, she thought, her body arching instinctively, seeking more of him. His thrusts grew faster, harder, entering her deeper, more magnificently than before, each one pushing against her walls with a force that felt like it could remake her. "SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!" The sounds were louder now, more intense, a relentless chorus that filled the slot, joined by the wet, raw "QUELCH! QUELCH!" as he filled her completely. Gods, deeper, she thought, her body trembling, the pleasure so great it felt like it could break her, shatter her into pieces and scatter them across the stone.

"MORE!!!! MMHH!!!!" she cried, her voice muffled by his mouth, their tongues still dancing, sucking, devouring each other with a ferocity that matched the rhythm below. His tongue curled around hers, pulling hard, then softening, a dance of hunger and tenderness that made her head spin. He’s consuming me, she thought, the thought both exhilarating and grounding, her body humming with the intensity of their connection. The kiss was a fire, burning hotter with every movement, their tongues coiling tightly, sucking with a desperate need, the "Slrp! Slrp!" sounds echoing in the slot, a testament to their shared want. She tasted him deeper, the mint gone now, only the salt and warmth of him, a flavor that felt like it belonged to her.

Her arms tightened around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as if she could merge them into one. I need him closer, she thought, her body aching for the contact, the closeness, the completeness of this moment. The slot’s cold walls seemed to fade, the world shrinking to the press of his body, the rhythm of their movements, the heat of him inside her. Her hips rolled against him, meeting each thrust, amplifying the pleasure, the "SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!" and "QUELCH! QUELCH!" sounds a relentless symphony that marked their shared desire. This is what I’ve been craving, she thought, the realization sharp and clear, like a blade finding its mark. The days in the slot had awakened something in her, a hunger she hadn’t known she carried, and now it consumed her, driving her to chase this feeling, to hold it tight.

The tidal rush came, a wave she felt building in her core, unstoppable, inevitable. It’s coming,

She heard droplets of his seed hit the ground, a soft patter against the stone, and a flush of embarrassment crept through her—such a waste, she thought, the feeling absurd but real, her cheeks burning with a mix of shame and pride. Why do I care? she wondered, the thought fleeting but sharp, a reminder of how deeply this moment had marked her. Her body still hummed, the aftershocks of pleasure rippling through her, her thighs trembling against him. This... it’s too much, too good, she thought, her mind struggling to catch up with her body’s surrender.

They stayed there, her back pressed against the cold wall, his body a warm anchor against hers, the kiss softening but not stopping. "Slrp! Slrp!" Their tongues moved slower now, curling gently, tasting the aftermath—the mint faded, the salt and warmth of each other lingering like a shared secret. She clung to him, her arms around his neck, needing the closeness, the quiet after the storm. This... it’s everything, she thought, her body still humming, satisfied, complete, like a blade sheathed after a long fight. The slot held them, not as prisoners but as partners, its stone and marsh a cradle for their shared truth. His breath was warm against her lips, a steady rhythm that grounded her, and she felt his heartbeat against her chest, a quiet echo of her own. I could stay here forever, she thought, the realization soft but heavy, a truth she wasn’t ready to name.

"Are you okay...?" Mikhailis asked, his voice soft, rough with exertion, a question that held no judgment, only care.

Thalatha’s chest heaved with panting breaths, her body still trembling from the intensity of their connection. She nodded, her forehead brushing against his, a silent affirmation as her pulse thrummed in her ears. "Yeah..." she managed, her voice low and raw, slipping out between gasps like a confession she hadn’t planned. Her eyes locked onto his, and the hunger still burning in his gaze—dark, intense, a fire that hadn’t dimmed—sent a fresh spark through her core. Gods, he’s looking at me like I’m everything, she thought, her heart stuttering, the slot’s cold stone fading as the world narrowed to his eyes, his breath, the warmth of him still so close. Unable to resist, she leaned in, kissing him again, her lips hungry, seeking the familiar taste of him, the mint and salt that had become her anchor in this cruel place.

"Slrp! Slrp!" The kiss was slower now, but no less fervent, their tongues curling gently, tasting the aftermath of their shared passion—mint faded, leaving only the warm, salty essence of each other. Thalatha’s arms stayed wrapped around his neck, fingers tangled in his coarse hair, needing the closeness to ground her trembling body. This... it’s still so good, she thought, the sensation a quiet hum, like a fire banked but still burning. Slowly, Mikhailis lifted her, his hands strong but careful, guiding them back to the chair, the wood creaking softly under their weight. His huge thing, still inside her, had gone limp, and the warmth of his seed spilled out, slick and messy, coating her thighs in a way that made her flush. It’s everywhere