Seven Sins System Chapter 819. My Goddess Fall Apart in My Hands

Seven Sins System Chapter 819. My Goddess Fall Apart in My Hands

I smirked immediately.

“Kinda.”

One of my tentacles peeked from beneath the blanket like a nosy cat.

“But I won’t force myself,” I added. “Sleep if you want to sleep.”

I meant it.

Mostly.

Okay, maybe sixty percent.

Because she was warm.

And soft.

And currently lying in my bed wearing a thin nightgown that shifted every time she breathed.

I’m still a devil.

There are limits to my enlightenment.

Puriel looked at me quietly.

Unexpectedly, she leaned in.

And kissed me.

Not a tiny polite kiss.

Not a sleepy goodnight peck.

No.

This one had intention.

Soft at first.

Then lingering.

Then deeper.

My brain stalled for exactly half a second.

‘Oh, we’re doing this.’

My hand slid instinctively to her waist, fingers tightening slightly as I kissed her back slower this time, tasting warmth and nervousness and something sweetly dangerous beneath all that holy composure.

Puriel made the smallest sound against my lips.

Not loud.

Not innocent either.

That nearly ruined me.

Her fingers moved lower across my chest, nails grazing lightly over skin before drifting beneath the blanket.

My breath hitched.

There.

Heat.

Pressure.

Then…

Her hand wrapped gently around my limp shaft through the thin fabric of my shorts.

I hissed softly.

“…Ha.”

My forehead dropped briefly against hers.

“I like this.”

Puriel’s cheeks turned pink immediately, but she didn’t pull away.

Which somehow made it worse.

Or better.

Definitely worse.

Her fingers moved carefully, uncertain but curious, tracing slowly through the outline while her other hand stayed against my chest like she was grounding herself.

I could feel how nervous she was.

The tiny tremble in her fingertips.

The way her breathing kept catching whenever I looked directly at her.

And honestly?

That affected me more than anything else.

I tilted my head slightly, watching her through half-lidded eyes.

“You’re really bad at pretending innocence right now.”

She glared softly.

“I am innocent.”

I grinned.

“Not with your hand there.”

That made her freeze.

Then immediately hide part of her face against my shoulder.

Cute.

Dangerously cute.

I laughed quietly, sliding my fingers through her hair.

“You know,” I murmured against the top of her head, “for someone who came here to emotionally process mortal politics…”

Her hand tightened slightly.

“…you escalated pretty fast.”

Puriel groaned softly into my chest.

“Stop talking.”

“Fine.”

I kissed the top of her head lazily while my thumb rubbed slow circles against her waist beneath the blanket.

The room felt warm now.

Not just physically.

Emotionally warm.

Soft lighting.

City glow through the curtains.

Her body tangled with mine beneath expensive sheets while somewhere in the penthouse Luci probably slept hugging an empty wine bottle like a tragic divorced nobleman.

Honestly?

Perfect atmosphere.

I tightened my grip on her hair, not enough to hurt, just enough to make her lift her head. Her eyes, in the dim light, were huge, the pupils blown wide with a mixture of fear and desire that sent a jolt straight through me. The blush on her cheeks had deepened to a dusky rose.

“See?” I murmured, my voice a low rasp. “Not so innocent.”

Before she could muster a retort, I claimed her mouth again. This kiss was different. Slower. More deliberate. A deliberate exploration rather than a sudden clash. I coaxed her lips apart, my tongue sweeping against hers, tasting the clean essence that was simply her. It was a taste I knew I could become addicted to, a dangerous thought for a lord of wrath.

My other hand, the one on her waist, began to move. It traced the delicate curve of her hip, up over the slight swell of her belly, until it rested just below the weight of her breast. I could feel the frantic beat of her heart through the thin fabric, a wild, trapped bird against my palm. She shivered, a full-body tremor that had nothing to do with cold. Her hand, still on my shaft, gave another reflexive squeeze, and this time, I let a soft grunt escape my throat.

"NG..."

I deepened the kiss, my tongue delving deeper, a slow, possessive dance. I was a conqueror, but right now, I wanted to worship at this bed. I wanted to map every secret corner of her mouth, to memorize the texture of her tongue against mine, the way her breath hitched when I tilted my head just so.

Pulling back just enough to speak, my lips brushed against hers with every word. “You’re shaking.”

“It’s… it’s you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, a confession stolen by the darkness.

A slow, predatory smile spread across my face. That was all the permission I needed. The blanket was a flimsy obstacle. Two of my tentacles, dark and sinuous, slithered from beneath the covers, their movement silent and smooth as flowing water.

They didn't touch her at first, just hovered in the space around us, their tips occasionally brushing against the silk sheets with a soft, whispering sound.

Puriel’s breath caught, her wide, luminous eyes following their movement. And yet she didn't flinch away. Instead, a deeper flush bloomed across her skin, a rosiness that had nothing to do with embarrassment.

One tentacle coiled gently around the post of the bed. Another moved with deliberate slowness to her side, its tip hovering over the delicate skin of her shoulder. It didn’t prod or poke, it simply caressed, the texture not quite slick, not quite dry, but something uniquely, intoxicatingly me. A shiver wracked her body, and she arched into the touch, a silent plea for more.

My hand on her waist finally moved upward, cupping the full weight of her breast through the thin silk. Her nipple pebbled instantly against my palm, a hard, desperate point.

I rolled it gently between my thumb and forefinger, and she gasped, her head falling back against the pillows, exposing the long, vulnerable line of her throat.

“Look at you,” I murmured, my voice a low, gravelly hum. “My goddess, falling apart in my hands.”

My tentacle on her shoulder began to trail downwards, tracing the elegant line of her collarbone, then the valley between her breasts. The tip was cooler than my skin, a startling, pleasant sensation that made her whimper.