May 16, 2026

Seven Sins System Chapter 820. A Goddess in My Embrace I

Her hand on my shaft, which had been frozen with timid nerves, began to move again, slowly, experimentally. Her touch was hesitant, but the friction she created, even through the fabric, was exquisite.

I hardened instantly, a full, throbbing ache that made my own breath catch.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” I confessed, the words scraped from the depths of my throat.

My other tentacle, the one wrapped around the bedpost, uncoiled. It snaked across the mattress, unseen until it reached the hem of her nightgown. It didn't pull or tug.

Instead, the tip slipped underneath, gliding up her inner thigh with excruciating slowness. The skin there was impossibly smooth, so warm it felt like I was touching sunlight itself. Puriel’s legs fell open instinctively, a gesture of pure, unthinking surrender.

My own hands became busier. I hooked my fingers into the neckline of her gown, pulling it down just enough to free one perfect, rosy-tipped breast.

I leaned down, my tongue tracing a wet, deliberate path around the areola, avoiding the peak until she was squirming, her fingernails digging into my shoulder.

“Azrael,” she gasped, the word a broken, beautiful thing.

I smiled against her skin before finally closing my mouth over her nipple. I sucked gently, then harder, my tongue flicking against the sensitive nub. The taste of her, the texture, the way she cried out, a sharp, high sound of pleasure, it was a symphony. My other hand slid around her back, pressing her closer, while the tentacle on her thigh crept higher, higher, until its tip was just brushing against the damp silk that covered her core.

Puriel’s entire body went taut as a bowstring. “NG… ah!”

The tentacle didn't intrude. It simply pressed, a firm, rhythmic pressure against her clit through the soaked fabric. I could feel the heat of her, the frantic pulse of her arousal. My own control was beginning to fray at the edges. Her hand on my cock was becoming bolder, her strokes more confident, learning the shape of me, the sensitive spots that made my hips jerk.

I released her breast with a soft, wet pop and looked down at her. Her face was a study in abandon, cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes half-closed and hazy with a pleasure so profound it looked like pain. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

“I want to see all of you,” I rasped, my voice thick with a raw possessiveness that surprised even me. It wasn't about ownership, not in the way a devil might think. It was a need to witness, to be present for this moment of her complete unraveling.

"Wait... No. They will see us. They will hear us," she whispered. Her eyes darted nervously towards the door. "Algan and Luci..."

"Luci's asleep. Even if he wasn't, I'd make him listen. Algan? He is my soldier," I growled against the skin of her neck, my teeth grazing lightly. The thought of him hearing her cries, knowing she was mine, sent a dark thrill through me. My tentacles, however, moved with a gentle reverence that belied my words. The one at her core pressed a little more firmly, a slow, torturous circle. The other slid back up, its tip now tracing the delicate shell of her ear.

Her hips bucked, a silent, desperate plea. "Ah... please..."

Please what? I didn't know, and neither did she. It was just a sound, a raw, animalistic expression of a need that transcended language. With a slow, deliberate motion, I hooked my fingers under the hem of her nightgown. She lifted her hips, a gesture of absolute, unquestioning trust. I pulled it over her head and tossed it aside.

Now she was bare. All of her. A feast for the senses. The dim light painted her skin in hues of pearl and shadow. Her breasts rose and fell with her ragged breaths, her stomach a soft, trembling plane.

I lowered my head again, not to her breasts this time, but to her stomach. I pressed my lips against the warm skin just below her navel, breathing her in. She smelled of moonlight, clean sweat, and something floral, something uniquely divine. My tongue darted out, tracing a slow, wet circle around her belly button. She tasted like everything I had ever wanted and never known how to ask for.

My tentacle, the one that had been teasing her through her panties, finally slid the fabric aside. It didn't enter her. Instead, the broad, flat tip glided through her slick folds, gathering her wetness. Puriel cried out, her back arching off the bed, her hands fisting in the sheets.

"NG... Azrael!"

Her hand, the one on my cock, tightened almost painfully, her strokes becoming erratic, lost in the storm of her own sensations.

"You are getting bold," I hissed. "I approve."

I pushed my hips forward, sliding my hard length against her palm, a silent encouragement. Her grip firmed, her thumb pressing experimentally against the sensitive head, smearing the bead of precum that had gathered there.

“More,” I grunted, the word barely human.

Her fingers wrapped around me fully, her touch no longer hesitant, but firm and sure. She began to stroke me in earnest, a slow, twisting motion that had my vision blurring at the edges. I had to focus, had to cling to the last shreds of my control, because this wasn’t just about my pleasure. This was about hers. This was about worshipping the goddess laid bare before me.

My tentacle, slick with her arousal, began to explore more thoroughly. It traced the outline of her inner lips, circled her clit again, then dipped, just barely, into her entrance. Her entire body clenched, a silent, desperate plea for more.

"Look at me," I commanded, my voice rough.

Her eyes, dark and dazed, locked onto mine.

"I want to watch you when you fall apart."

My other tentacle, the one that had been caressing her ear, now moved to her breast. The tip wrapped around her nipple, not squeezing, just holding it in a warm, living embrace, before beginning to pulse, a slow, steady rhythm that mimicked a heartbeat.