Chapter 272: Blood, Body & Her Mouth (2)

Marisa hummed in acknowledgment around him and didn’t stop.

Kane’s control frayed.

He warned her with a short tug of her hair. She only sank deeper and held there, throat working.

He came hard, pulsing thickly into her mouth while her amber eyes stayed locked on his.

She swallowed around him, taking every pulse without pulling away, until the last aftershocks faded.

Only then did she ease back, lips shiny, breathing carefully controlled.

She wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of one hand and rose to her feet in a single smooth motion.

The wrap she wore was still perfectly in place. Only the faint flush on her cheeks and the darkness in her eyes betrayed what she had just done.

Kane sat more upright than he had been able to manage minutes earlier.

The worst of the pain had receded to a dull, manageable throb. The cut on his scalp had stopped seeping.

Even the deep bruise across his chest felt less immediately dangerous.

The system’s recovery had taken the offered energy and put it to work.

Marisa retrieved a clean cloth, poured fresh water into the basin, and returned to wiping the remaining blood from his skin with the same practical efficiency as before.

Her voice was quiet, almost conversational.

"That should be enough to keep you on your feet tomorrow. Do not expect me to do it again simply because it worked once."

Kane watched her face while she cleaned the last streak of blood from his jaw.

"I wasn’t planning on asking twice in one night."

"Good."

She set the cloth aside, checked the vials she had brought, and placed two of them within his reach.

"Drink both before you sleep. One is for the deeper tissue damage. The other will keep the fever down if the mutant residual tries to complicate anything."

She moved to the door, hand resting on the latch, then looked back at him.

"Tomorrow the upper hall will be full. The packs that matter will be watching. Whatever game you and my brother are now playing, finish it cleanly. I did not bring you this far to watch you die for pride."

Kane met her eyes.

"I don’t plan on dying."

Marisa held the look a moment longer, then opened the door to step out.

Kane’s voice stopped her at the door.

"You leaving?"

Marisa turned back, one hand still on the latch. Amber eyes met his across the quiet chamber.

"Yes. My work is done."

Kane looked down at himself, still hard, still glistening from her mouth, the accelerated healing thrumming under his skin but not yet finished.

"You haven’t cum yourself yet."

Marisa’s gaze dropped deliberately to his cock and stayed there for a long moment.

The political mask she wore so well thinned.

"I’m still hard," Kane said.

"You can use it. I won’t move."

"You’re too bold. My brother is downstairs."

"He won’t hear it. As long as you don’t moan loudly. And at the same time, I can heal myself faster this way."

The silence stretched.

Then Marisa released the latch and walked back toward the bed with slow, measured steps.

She didn’t undress. She reached down, shoved the thin wrap and the lower part of her dress aside, and exposed herself.

Her cunt was already slick, the folds shiny in the low lamplight, a clear thread of wetness connecting her inner thighs.

Kane’s eyes darkened.

"See? You’re already dripping."

He reached out and traced one finger slowly along her slit, gathering the slickness, then brought the finger to his mouth and sucked it clean.

"Nnh..."

Marisa’s breath hitched audibly.

"You’re filthy."

"I’m a barbarian."

She said nothing more and climbed onto the bed, straddled his hips, and reached between them.

Her fingers wrapped around his cock, guided the thick head to her entrance, and she sank in one continuous, controlled motion until he was buried to the hilt inside her.

A low sound escaped her throat.

She bit it off immediately.

"Already giving up?"

Kane stayed true to his word and didn’t thrust up.

He simply lay there, hands resting lightly on her thighs, and let her use him.

Marisa placed both palms on his chest, careful of the lingering bruises, and began to move.

She rose and fell in a slow, rolling rhythm, hips circling at the bottom of each stroke so the head of his cock rubbed deep inside her.

Her full breasts shifted heavily beneath the still-closed top of her dress with every motion.

"You’re tighter than you looked on the road," Kane murmured.

Marisa’s eyes half-lidded. She kept the pace deliberate, almost elegant, the wet sound of her cunt taking him the only real noise in the room.

"And you’re bigger when you’re not holding back." She sank harder, grinding.

"Stay still. I will take what I need."

She did.

The rhythm gradually built, still controlled, still quiet, but deeper and more insistent. Marisa’s breathing grew shorter.

Her fingers flexed against his chest.

Every time she dropped fully onto him, a soft, involuntary sound threatened to escape, and every time she locked it down again.

Kane watched her face, the way her lips parted, the faint flush climbing her throat, the focused intensity of a woman who had decided to take her pleasure cleanly and without spectacle.

When her thighs began to tremble, he finally moved.

Kane sat up in one smooth motion, still buried inside her, and yanked the top of her dress down.

"Wha-?"

Her heavy breasts spilled free, full, pale, the dark nipples already tight.

He leaned in and took one into his mouth, sucking hard, tongue working the peak while his hand claimed the other, thumb dragging across the sensitive tip.

"Hah..."

Marisa’s controlled rhythm broke.

Her head fell back, long black hair still tied up shifting, and a sharper sound slipped out before she could stop it.

"Quiet," Kane reminded her against her skin, voice rough.

"You said he won’t hear."

Marisa’s answer was to fist one hand in his red hair and pull his mouth harder against her breast while she resumed riding him with shorter, needier strokes.

Kane switched to the other nipple, biting gently, sucking, leaving both shiny and dark.

The new angle let him go even deeper. Marisa’s cunt clenched around him in fluttering waves.

"I’m close," she whispered, almost angry at the admission.