Chapter 34: The Forked Tongue Technique**

“SYRIS!” Ren shrieked, water splashing into her open mouth as the Snake King disappeared beneath the steaming surface of the pool.

His large, pale hands shot out underwater, gripping her hips with a strength that bruised in the most delightful way. He dragged her forward, anchoring her firmly against the smooth, wet stone edge of the pool. He spread her legs wide, wedging his broad shoulders between her thighs, effectively trapping her against the rock wall.

“Wait—” Ren gasped, her head falling back against the rim, her wet hair fanning out like a halo on the black stone.

Then, he made contact.

“Oh god.”

It wasn’t like a human mouth. It was cooler, smoother, and terrifyingly skilled.

And the tongue…

Flicker.

It didn’t just lick. It vibrated.

The forked tip was a biological marvel. The split muscle moved independently, like two separate entities with a mind of their own. One tip teased her sensitive clit, flicking with maddening speed, while the other swirled lower, exploring the opening with a slow, fluttering rhythm that made Ren’s toes curl painfully against the rough stone.

“Syris,” Ren whimpered, her fingers tangling in his wet, black hair floating on the surface. “That feels… insane. Stop. No, don’t stop!”

He had found the epicenter of the heat.

To him, she tasted like salt and the lingering, floral sweetness of the honey she had consumed earlier. Every flick of his tongue brought a pulse of warmth that radiated into his face, his jaw, his throat. It was intoxicating.

He was addicted.

He flattened his tongue, using the broad, rougher surface to apply dragging pressure, then switched instantly to the tips for razor-sharp precision.

“Syris!” Ren’s legs trembled violently in the water. She tried to close them, instinctively trying to protect herself from the overstimulation, but Syris simply pushed his shoulders forward, prying her wider, demanding access.

He hummed against her—a deep, guttural vibration that traveled from his throat, through his mouth, and straight into her clit.

It was like sitting on a subwoofer set to ’Bass Boost’.

“Oh…Oh God!” Ren panted, her hips thrusting forward, splashing water everywhere.

Syris drank her in. He used his hands to knead her ass cheeks, lifting her slightly so he could bury his face deeper. He sealed his mouth over her, creating a suction that made Ren see stars.

He began to suck. Hard. Rhythmic. Demanding.

Ren’s vision blurred. The steam from the pool mixed with the fog in her brain.

’I am being eaten out by a reptile,’ she thought hysterically, clutching his hair. ’And it is the best thing that has ever happened to me.’

Syris sensed her spike in arousal. He could taste the change in her pheromones—the scent of excitement spiking the water like blood in the ocean.

He intensified the pressure. He used the split in his tongue to circle the sensitive bud in opposite directions simultaneously, creating a dual-sensation swirl that sent a jolt of electricity arcing through Ren’s nervous system.

“Syris!” Ren screamed, her voice echoing off the cavern walls. “I’m gonna—!”

He didn’t stop. He sped up, his tongue a blur of motion.

Ren squeezed her eyes shut, arching her back. The pleasure built, sharp and blinding, hot and heavy, until it exploded.

She shuddered violently, her inner muscles clamping down. Her legs locked around his head, trapping him there as the waves of pleasure rolled through her, wringing her dry.

Syris didn’t pull away. He stayed right there, enduring the clamp of her thighs, savoring the pulse of her release against his mouth. He lapped up every drop of her essence, greedy and starving, growling softly into the water as the heat flooded his system.

Slowly, the tremors faded. Ren slumped back against the rock, breathing hard, her body floating bonelessly in the water. She felt melted. Liquefied. She slid down until her chin hit the water, blowing bubbles.

Syris surfaced.

He broke the water with a splash, flipping his wet, heavy hair back. Water sluiced down his pale face, dripping from his nose and chin.

He looked… wrecked. And triumphant.

His face was flushed a deep, healthy pink—a color Ren had never seen on him. His lips were slick, swollen, and red.

“I found the pearl,” Syris announced, his voice rough and darker than usual. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, tasting the residue, his eyes never leaving hers. “It was sweet. Sweeter than the gold-syrup.”

Ren stared at him, her chest heaving. She couldn’t feel her legs. “I can’t believe you just said that. That was the cheesiest line in history.”

“Cheese?” Syris tilted his head, wading closer until his chest bumped hers. “I do not know this cheese. But if it tastes like you, I want it.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her up because her legs were currently useless jelly. He pressed his forehead against hers, their wet noses touching.

“You are shaking,” he whispered.

“That’s your fault,” Ren managed to whisper back. “You… you have a magic tongue. That should be illegal.”

Syris smirked…a slow, arrogant, satisfied curl of his lips.

“The fork allows for… multitasking,” he purred against her skin. “I told you. Snakes are thorough. We do not rush the meal. We savor the texture.”

He moved his hands down her back, tracing her spine underwater.

“Do you accept my apology for the ’egg’ joke?” he asked, nipping gently at her shoulder.

“Apology accepted,” Ren breathed, patting his wet cheek. “You are forgiven for all crimes. Past, present, and future. Just… don’t stop doing that.”

Syris chuckled, the sound rumbling against her wet chest. “I have no intention of stopping. But the water cools.”

He set her gently on the stone ledge, then placed his hands on the rim to pull himself out.

Water cascaded off him as he rose from the pool.

Ren meant to look away. She really did. But her eyes betrayed her.

He was magnificent.

The water sheeted off his pale, alabaster skin, highlighting every ridge of lean muscle. His shoulders were broad, tapering down to a waist that was unfairly narrow. The V-lines on his hips were deep, sharp grooves that pointed dangerously downward.

And there, glistening in the torchlight, was the confirmation of every rumor she had heard.

He wasn’t just built; he was very well equipped.

Ren’s gaze traveled down his long, powerful legs, admiring the way the water clung to him like a second skin. He looked like a statue carved by a perverted Michelangelo.

’Oh my god,’ Ren thought, her throat going dry. ’What is wrong with me?’

Syris began to turn his head toward her.

Panic flared. If he caught her ogling him like a piece of prime steak, she would never hear the end of it.

Ren whipped her head around so fast her neck cracked. She stared intently at a patch of moss on the wall, her face burning so hot she thought she might evaporate the remaining water on her skin.

“Interesting moss,” she squeaked, her voice an octave too high. “Very… green.”

Syris paused. He looked at her crimson profile, then at the moss. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face, though he said nothing. He simply reached for a large black fur pelt on the bench.

“Dry off,” Syris commanded gently, his voice thick with amusement.

He wrapped the soft bear fur around her shivering form and rubbed her down. He used the fur to briskly dry her arms, her back, and her hair, his movements efficient but lingering.

“You are not putting me back in the Nest?” Ren asked, clutching the fur to her chest and refusing to make eye contact. “I thought I was grounded.”

“Grounded?” Syris paused, drying her leg. “You mean trapped? No.”

He stood up, grabbing his sheer silk wrap from the floor. He tied it loosely around his waist, hiding the main attraction but leaving very little to the imagination regarding his hips.

He held out his hand.

“Come. I will show you my domain. You have seen the kitchen and the bedroom. But you have not seen the true wealth of the Onyx Palace.”

Ren hesitated, looking at his hand. “Is this a trap? Are you going to show me a dungeon?”

“I am going to show you what I am willing to share,” Syris corrected. “And why you should not miss the Tiger’s dirt cave.”

He pulled her up. Ren’s legs were still wobbly, and she stumbled. Syris caught her instantly, pulling her against his side.

“Lean on me,” he murmured.

He began to lead her out of the steam-filled cavern and into the dark, echoing hallway.

“First,” Syris said, his voice echoing off the stone. “The Garden of Shadows. I think you will find the… ingredients… interesting.”

Ren looked at the dark corridor stretching ahead. She was tired, sore, and thoroughly ravished. But the Chef in her perked up.

“Ingredients?” she asked. “Like… mushrooms?”

Syris smiled in the dark.

“Better than mushrooms, Little Chef. Much better.”

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