Seven Sins System Chapter 832. Limbs and Sheets

Seven Sins System Chapter 832. Limbs and Sheets

The sight of her, claimed by two of my limbs, her body rocking between them, was almost too much. Her hands fisted in the silk sheets, her knuckles white. 

Her breasts swayed with each thrust, the nipples tight, hard points begging for attention. I obliged, my hands reaching around to cup and knead them, my fingers rolling the peaks until she was sobbing my name.

My remaining two tentacles weren't idle. One wrapped around her throat again, that gentle, possessive pressure that made her feel so completely, utterly mine. The last... the last curled around her clit, the tip a small, nubbed appendage that began to vibrate with a low, deep hum.

"Ah! Ah! Your Highness! I can't... I... you're going to make me... you're going to make me cum again!" she cried out, her body shaking uncontrollably.

"I know," I growled, my tentacles moving faster, harder, driving her relentlessly toward her peak. "I want you to. I want to feel you fall apart around me. I want to feel you pulse and spasm and scream my name. I want to own every last drop of your pleasure."

She screamed, a raw, ragged sound of pure ecstasy. Her orgasm ripped through her. Her entire body seized, her inner walls clamping down on my tentacles like a vise, the rhythmic spasms milking me.

This was heaven.

This was hell.

This was the only paradise I had ever known.

I waited until the tremors subsided, until she was a limp, boneless doll in my grasp, before I pulled out of her with a wet, slick sound. She collapsed onto the bed, her face buried in the pillows, her body still quivering with aftershocks.

I looked down at her, at the mess I had made of her, at the love and devotion that radiated from her in waves. And I knew that I was hers. Just as completely as she was mine.

I knelt on the bed, my human form looming over her, my cock standing rigid, thick, and weeping with need. "Turn over, Ivy," I commanded, my voice a low, rough whisper.

She complied. She was on four now. I grabbed her waist, pulling her back against me. She was so small, so delicate compared to my infernal form, a fragile, beautiful thing that I held in the palm of my hand.

I ran a hand down her spine, feeling the delicate bones beneath her skin, the rapid flutter of her pulse. She shivered under my touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

"Do you know what you do to me?" I murmured, my lips against her ear. "Do you have any idea the hold you have on me?"

She shook her head, her hair brushing against my chest.

"You make me weak," I confessed, the words a raw, vulnerable thing in the suffocating air of her room. "You make me forget. You make me want things I have no right to want."

My cock pressed against her dripping folds, and she arched her back, a silent invitation. "Then take them," she breathed, her voice husky with emotion. "Take them from me."

I did.

I entered her in one long, slow, agonizingly deep thrust.

This was different.

This wasn't just about pleasure, about release. This was about connection. About possession. About a love so profound and terrifying that it felt like a brand on my very soul.

I moved inside her, my hips finding a slow, sensual rhythm that was more like a dance than a f*ck.

My hands roamed her body, learning every curve, every dip, every sensitive spot that made her gasp and shiver. My lips found the nape of her neck, tasting the salt of her skin, breathing in the scent of her hair.

Her hands came up to cover mine, her fingers intertwining with mine, holding on tight. She was grounding me, anchoring me in a sea of unfamiliar emotion.

"Your Highness..." she whispered, my name a prayer on her lips. "My lord... my love..."

The last two words hung in the air between us, a fragile, beautiful thing.

And I shattered.

My control, my carefully constructed walls, my very identity as the Lord of Wrath... it all crumbled to dust.

A raw, guttural sound tore from my throat as my orgasm hit me. My hips bucked wildly, driving into her again and again, spilling myself deep inside her.

I buried my face in her hair, breathing her in, trying to piece myself back together.

She held me, her hands stroking my hair, her body a warm, welcome weight against mine.

For a while, we just lay there, a tangled mess of limbs and sheets, the only sounds in the room our ragged breaths and the faint, distant screams from the hellscape outside.

Comforting atmosphere.

Very Wrath-coded.

I stared at the ceiling while Ivy practically melted on top of me like a spoiled cat that finally reclaimed its favorite blanket. One of my tentacles lazily curled around her waist while another twitched weakly against the mattress.

I finally exhaled slowly and looked down at her.

“I assume that’s enough for you.”

Ivy immediately lifted her head and kissed me again.

Slow this time.

Satisfied.

Dangerously satisfied.

“It’s more than enough,” she murmured warmly.

Then she pouted.

Actually pouted.

“But…”

That tone always meant trouble.

“I can’t get up now.”

I stared at her.

“You’re joking.”

“Your tentacles ravaged me so badly.”

I deadpanned immediately.

“You are a succubus. We’ve done this hundreds of times. And last time you literally requested an eight-hour session.”

She smiled shamelessly.

“That was romantic.”

“That was cardio.”

I almost cringed at myself.

Almost.

Because yeah.

This wasn’t exactly new territory for us.

I still remembered Ivy years ago opening her legs dramatically and declaring she could “absolutely survive until morning.”

Ivy poked my chest lightly.

“You should worry more about me.”

“I should worry about myself.”

Her brows lifted.

“Why?”

I gestured around the room.

The shrine room.

The photos.

The body pillow.

The suspiciously detailed painting of my abs near the bookshelf.