Chapter 860 – At Her Mercy

This was her revenge.

To make him lose control. To make him burn with a need so fierce it eclipsed everything else. To make him forget he was a lord of a demon court, to make him forget he was Greed and Lust incarnate, and remember only that he was a man, and she was a dragon, and he was utterly, completely at her mercy.

"More..." he demanded in ragged breath. It tasted more delicious than the first one. Lux didn’t feel her hesitation at all.

She took him deeper, her throat relaxing to accommodate him, her nose pressing against the hard, muscular plane of his lower abdomen. She hollowed her cheeks, increasing the suction, and he swore, a string of colorful, inventive curses that would have made a sailor blush.

The vibrations of her chuckle around him made him shudder violently.

He could feel the tension coiling in his groin, a tight, hot knot of pleasure that was about to snap. He tried to pull back, to regain some semblance of control, but her hands came up to grip his ass, holding him in place. She wasn’t letting him go.

She wanted all of him. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

And damn him, he wanted to give it to her.

With a final, guttural roar, he came. His release was a powerful, explosive rush that flooded her mouth. It was hot, thick, and surprisingly sweet. She swallowed it all, her throat working to take every last drop, her eyes never leaving his.

She milked him until he was spent, a trembling, boneless mess leaning against the wall for support. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving.

He looked wrecked. Ruined. And utterly, breathtakingly beautiful.

And then she lifted her head, looking at him.

Lux’s eyes widened.

That face.

The blush on her cheeks. His seeds on her lips. And how she licked her lips, like she just tasted the best juice in her life.

It was... art.

Before he could speak, before he could even form a coherent thought, she was rising. She moved with the fluid grace of her true form, a predator closing in for the kill. Her hands, slick with water and him, flattened against his chest. She pushed, not with the violent intent of before, but with an undeniable, magnetic force.

He stumbled back, his bare feet slipping slightly on the wet floor. He didn’t resist. He was still too lost in the aftershocks, his body humming with a pleasure so profound it felt like a revelation. He was clay, and she was the potter, and he found he didn’t mind being remolded.

She guided him, stepping into the shower stall once more, pulling him with her. The glass door slid shut behind them with a soft, definitive click, sealing them in their own private, steam-wreathed world.

He reached for her, expecting to take control, to reclaim the dominant ground he’d lost. His hands found her waist, but instead of pulling her close, she twisted, her grip on his shoulders surprisingly strong. She turned him, pressing his back against the cool, slick wall of the stall. The sudden shock of the tile against his overheated skin made him gasp.

There was no softness from either of them. They both went feral, their kisses were rough. Their tongues were like sword fighting.

She broke the kiss, her lips trailing a path of fire down his body. She lingered over the sigil she had placed on him, her tongue tracing its swirling lines. He could feel it now, a strange, thrumming connection that was more than just skin deep.

It pulsed.

Not just on his skin, in him.

Lux’s breath hitched, not from the touch alone, but from the way his core reacted to it. The sigil wasn’t just a mark anymore. It was a bridge. A resonance point. Something that answered her presence instinctively.

Heat spread through him, slow at first... then sharper.

Hungrier.

His fingers curled against the wall behind him, knuckles whitening slightly as he tried to anchor himself.

Didn’t work.

Not when she was like this.

Not when she was claiming space in a way that wasn’t submissive, wasn’t reactive.

But deliberate.

Predatory.

His chest rose and fell heavier now, breath uneven, his usual composure slipping in fragments as that controlled burn inside him began to spiral outward.

Damn.

Her body...

It wasn’t just beautiful.

It was dangerous.

Lux let his head tilt back slightly against the cool tile, eyes half-lidded, watching her through the haze of steam and heat.

"You’re really enjoying this," he muttered under his breath, voice rougher than he intended.

She didn’t answer.

Because the way she moved told him everything.

Slow when she wanted.

Precise when she chose.

And when she pressed closer again, that control snapped into something rawer.

The rhythm shifted.

Less measured.

More instinctive.

Movement. Breath. Skin meeting skin with a sharper cadence, the kind that echoed faintly against tile and glass, amplified by the enclosed space.

Lux’s hand moved to her waist, then her back, then tighter, pulling her in not to dominate, but to meet her force with his own.

That burn inside him?

It wasn’t fading.

It was climbing.

Relentless.

Her body moved with his, not yielding, not following, matching.

Adjusting.

Challenging.

And that was what pushed him further.

"You’re trouble," he breathed again, almost like a realization this time, not a joke.

Because she wasn’t reacting to him.

She was rewriting the pace.

The steam thickened around them, clinging to skin, turning every movement into something heavier, slower, but somehow more intense.

Lux felt it.

In his chest.

In his breath.

In the way his control, carefully maintained, always calculated, started slipping through his fingers like water.

Lux exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his damp hair, his core still burning in that same relentless way, only now...

Worse.

Stronger.

More entangled.

"You’re addictive," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to her.

Her presence wasn’t overwhelming.

It was consuming.

And the worst part?

He didn’t want to stop it.

Didn’t want to pull away.

Not when this felt like something else entirely.

Something closer to balance than dominance.