Page 161 of Emylia

“Fuck, I love that mouth.”

“Do you really?”

He didn’t answer. He took my mouth with his instead—devouring it like it was sacred. And I let him. I let him claim every gasp, every tremble.

“Em…”

My name was a gasp on his tongue. But when his gaze locked on mine, it was more than tenderness. It was awe. Like I’d given him something he never knew he was missing—and now he couldn’t live without it.

He slipped a finger beneath the strap of my bra, letting it fall from my shoulder.

“Can I take this off?”

The heat in his stare consumed.

But the hunger in mine burned hotter.

“Yes,” I whispered.

He unclasped it with a skill that made me smile—but the sound caught in my throat when he dropped it to the floor and looked at me like I was fire and dusk–sunset incarnate.

Beautiful. Untouchable.

Like I’d stolen the sky and made it mine.

“You sure you’re not a Goddess?” he murmured, brushing his thumbs along my ribs. “Because I swear the whole realm should kneel at your feet.”

I flushed—every inch of me burning.

He noticed.

Of course he did.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” he whispered, tipping my chin up. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

“I’m not,” I whispered. “I want you to see me.”

And Gods, did he ever.

He kissed down my arms.

Over the soft swell of my breasts.

Lower still.

And when his mouth met my stomach, it wasn’t just a kiss—it was a confession. A vow sealed in heat. Every touch was a promise. Every kiss a prayer. Every breath he stole from me etched something eternal into my bones.

By the time he reached the edge of my panties, I was trembling.

“So…” he murmured, gaze flicking up. “Should these stay or…?”

“Go.” I practically begged.

He peeled them down, inch by inch, like he was unwrapping something precious.

And he never looked away. Not once.

Like if he blinked, I might vanish.

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