Chapter 147: Chapter 147 – Foreplay with the Goddess

Her silver eyes widened further, pupils dilating as the impact registered—a warm, solid weight smacking her skin, leaving a sticky trail of precum that cooled in the air.

The bulbous head rested there for a heartbeat, throbbing faintly against her cheekbone, its veined surface rough yet smooth, like heated stone wrapped in silk.

She inhaled sharply, the scent hitting her like a wave—raw, salty musk, thick with sweat and something deeper, primal, filling her nostrils and coating her throat, making her head spin as if she’d breathed in the essence of untamed earth after rain.

“What… what is this?” she stammered, her voice trembling, confusion lacing every syllable, her composure cracking as she knew what it was, but the issue was it was far bigger than she had ever seen—thicker than her wrist.

Tianlong’s gaze softened, crimson depths holding hers with a tenderness that belied the raw hunger building between them.

“This is me, Ying Jia,” he said softly, his voice a romantic caress, like velvet over steel. “A part of me that wants to feel you fully, not just outside, but be buried deep inside you again and again.”

He reached for her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers—delicate, ethereal digits that felt like cool mist in his warm grasp, her skin so plush it molded to his touch without resistance, trembling slightly as he guided it toward him.

She didn’t pull away, her breath hitching as he placed her palm against the base of his cock.

Her fingers curled instinctively around the girth, barely encircling it, feeling the heat radiate through her skin—the veined shaft pulsing under her touch like a living heartbeat, thick ridges bumping against her soft pads, the weight heavy and insistent in her hand.

“It’s… so warm,” she whispered, her voice faltering, silver eyes flickering between his face and the rigid length she now held, confusion mingling with a spark of curiosity that made her cheeks flush deeper.

“Mmmhh,” he hummed low in his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest as he leaned down, clasping her face again, thumbs stroking those yielding cheeks.

His lips met hers in a slow, deep kiss—not demanding, but exploring, his mouth soft and insistent against her plush lips, tasting the faint sweetness of the pill lingering on her tongue.

She gasped into it, her body tensing then melting, her free hand rising to rest on his shoulder, fingers brushing the hard muscle there, solid and unyielding like carved marble warmed by inner fire.

He broke the kiss gently, their breaths mingling, a thin strand of saliva connecting them for a moment before snapping.

“You’re exquisite,” he murmured, his voice laced with genuine awe, eyes tracing the luminescent glow of her skin, the way her silver hair cascaded like starlit rivers over her shoulders, framing breasts that swelled with each breath—full, heavy orbs that strained against her robes, their weight evident in how they shifted, soft peaks pressing through the fabric.

“Every part of you, from these endless legs to the light in your eyes… it’s like heaven tried to hide you, but couldn’t.”

Ying Jia’s heart pounded, her hand still wrapped around his cock, feeling it throb in response to his words.

“I… don’t understand,” she breathed, her voice shaky, but her fingers tightened slightly, exploring the texture—the smooth, taut skin over rigid veins, the heat seeping into her palm like liquid fire.

She retreated her hand slowly, almost reluctantly, her touch lingering as she pulled back, silver eyes meeting his with a mix of wonder and hesitation.

Tianlong shifted, seating himself fully on the bed beside her, the mattress creaking under his weight.

He took her retreating hand again, placing it flat against his chest—her palm splaying over the hard planes of his pecs, fingers brushing the defined ridges where muscle met muscle, each one firm and unyielding, etched with those faint scars that told stories of battles won, skin warm and slightly damp with sweat, rising and falling with his breath.

She trembled, her delicate fingers tracing the contours, feeling the power coiled there, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath, strong and alive, making her own pulse quicken in response.

“Feel me,” he said softly, his romantic tone wrapping around her like an embrace, “just as I’ll feel you.”

With gentle strength, he pulled her toward him, seating her back against his chest—her body fitting perfectly, her ass settling onto his lap, clamping down on his rigid cock like it was a third leg beneath her, the thick length nestling between her plush cheeks, hot and insistent, throbbing against the cleft as her weight pressed it down, the veined surface rubbing raw against her robes.

She gasped, “Mmmhh… wait,” her breath hitching, the pressure sending sparks through her core, her wide hips shifting involuntarily, feeling the heat seep through the fabric, his balls heavy against her thighs.

His arms encircled her waist, hands sliding up slowly, tracing the narrow curve that flared into her hips—skin like moon-kissed silk, plump and giving under his palms, warm and alive with that ethereal glow.

“You’re divine,” he whispered against her ear, lips brushing the sensitive lobe, sending shivers down her spine.

His hands continued upward, cupping her chest from below, lifting the underboob with reverent care—the full, heavy weight settling into his palms like ripe melons, soft flesh overflowing his fingers, yielding yet firm, nipples hardening against the robe as he hefted them gently, feeling their heft strain the fabric.

“They are really heavy,” he murmured, voice thick with wonder, thumbs circling the undersides where skin met skin, tracing the crease with slow, deliberate strokes. “I thought they might be small, but they’re bigger than Feng’s—perfect, made for my hands.”

Ying Jia arched slightly, a soft “Nnhh…” escaping her lips as his touch ignited fire in her veins, her breasts swelling under his fondling, the plush mounds molding to his grip, nipples peaking into hard points that begged for more.

He kissed her neck then, lips pressing hot and open-mouthed against the column of her throat—skin like velvet under his mouth, tasting faintly of stardust and salt, her pulse jumping beneath as he sucked gently, teeth grazing just enough to draw a gasp.

“Ahh… that… feels…” she moaned, her voice breaking into breathy fragments, head tilting to give him better access, silver hair spilling over his shoulder like a cascade of light.

He nuzzled deeper, one hand kneading her breast with firm squeezes—fingers sinking into the yielding fullness, lifting and releasing so they bounced softly in his palm, the weight pulling them down only for him to catch them again—while the other hand mirrored on her opposite side, thumbs brushing over nipples through the robe, circling the peaks until they ached.

Ying Jia’s breaths came in ragged bursts, her silver eyes half-lidded, lost in the sensations—his mouth hot on her neck, sending jolts down her spine, while his hands made her breasts ache with pleasure, heavy and sensitive, swelling further under his attention.

“Emperor… I feel… so strange,” she whispered, voice breaking into a moan as he lifted one breast higher, tongue darting out to trace her collarbone, the romantic intimacy building to something raw and inevitable.

Tianlong’s left hand lingered on her breast, kneading the plush fullness with slow, deliberate squeezes, feeling the weight shift in his palm like warm, living silk—soft flesh yielding to his fingers, nipples hardening into firm peaks that throbbed against his thumb.

But his right hand began to wander lower, slipping beneath the hem of her robe with a whisper of fabric against skin.

The material parted easily, his fingers brushing the smooth expanse of her abdomen—taut yet giving, like polished marble warmed by inner light, rising and falling with her quickening breaths.

’!’

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