Morgana: The Mother Of All-Chapter 501: One Last Time

The moment I entered the palace garden, I froze in my tracks.

The sight before me was... too damn beautiful.

The gorgeous figure of Aeli in a fitting red dress that hugged her curves in all the right ways. The neckline plunged low enough to make a saint reconsider celibacy; the slit up her left thigh climbed so high I could tell she hadn’t bothered with underwear.

She was standing in the middle of her flower garden, a serene smile on her face, with the moon behind her and the stars twinkling above.

The moonlight caught the silver threads woven into the fabric of her dress, making her look less like a mortal and more like a celestial being that had accidentally wandered into this world.

She hadn’t noticed me yet.

Her slender fingers drifted across the petals of a night-blooming star-lily, coaxing the flower to open wider with a soft pulse of green mana. The blossom unfurled with a tiny, wet sound—like lips parting after a long kiss—and released a fragrance that hit me straight between the legs: sweet honeysuckle laced with something darker, something unmistakably fertile.

My cock gave an interesting twitch inside my trousers. And it almost burst out.

Why?

Well, because she suddenly bent over, giving me a perfect view of her round, THICK! ass.

Now here’s the difficult question.

What should a responsible, caring, mature goddess like me do in such a situation?

Option A: Clear my throat and announce my presence, engaging in polite, intellectual conversation about the wonders of horticulture.

Option B: Quietly back away and give her her space, respecting her private moment of communion with nature.

Option C: Walk up behind her, flip up that ridiculously high slit, and bury my tongue so deep in her pussy she tastes moonlight and star-lily for a week.

"..."

Yeah, I was never good at multiple-choice questions.

So...

"Nyaah!" I meowed as I pounced on her like a hungry cat who just found its prey.

"Kyaah!" Aeli yelped, stumbling forward, her hands flying out to brace herself against the stone ledge of the flowerbed. She didn’t have the time to react when my teeth found her lovely buttcheek. Biting it gently, not enough to hurt, just enough to leave a faint, pink impression.

"Morgana—!" she gasped, but the protest died when I dragged my tongue along the bite mark, slow and possessive, tasting honey and sweat and the faint, electric tang of her flower magic.

"You bent over," I growled against her flesh, voice muffled because I refused to remove my mouth. "In that dress. With no panties. What did you think was going to happen, Little Rose?"

"I was—ah!—tending the lilies!" Her protest was adorably breathless. Her thighs trembled, already spreading a fraction wider on instinct.

"Lies." I nipped the underside of the other cheek, making her jolt. "You were asking for it. You knew exactly where I was the second I stepped into the garden. Those pretty ears of yours twitched before I even crossed the threshold."

She made a small, embarrassed sound that turned into a whimper when I hooked two fingers into the scandalously high slit of her dress and yanked the silk upward like I was raising a curtain on the main event.

There it was.

Glossy. Swollen. Already dripping.

Her pussy lips were flushed a deep, dusky rose, and her clit stood out like a tiny, perfect pearl begging to be sucked. A single, slow bead of arousal slid down her inner thigh, and I caught it with my tongue before it could disgrace the petal-strewn ground.

"Ah! Morgana... wait... not here..." Aeli’s protest was weak, then died entirely when I spread her with both thumbs and flattened my tongue against her clit in one long, firm lick. I didn’t just taste her. I drank her in.

And just like her tits,

honey was dripping from her folds.

And I was thirsty.

My tongue delved deep, swirling, collecting every drop. She ground back against my face, her ass pressing into my cheeks, her fingers curling so tight against the stone ledge I heard her nails scrape.

"Morgana... too much..."

I pulled back just long enough to spit directly onto her fluttering hole, watching it clench around nothing.

"Too much?" I rasped, voice wrecked. "You’re clenching like you want something thicker. Say it."

She whimpered, forehead pressed to the cool stone ledge, blonde hair spilling everywhere.

"I want... your cock," she breathed, so quiet I almost missed it over the pounding of my own pulse. "Please."

That’s the magic word.

My belt was unbuckled, my trousers shoved down, and my own heavy, throbbing cock was freed into the cool night air. I gave it a single, possessive stroke, smearing my pre-cum along the length, before I lined the angry red head up with her sopping entrance.

"Ask nicer."

Aeli looked back over her shoulder—cheeks flushed, eyes glassy, lower lip caught between her teeth. A goddess begging in the moonlight. A fucking masterpiece.

"Please, Morgana," she moaned, her hips rolling back in a silent invitation. "Fuck me. Breed me. Fill me until I’m overflowing..."

As I was about to shove my cock into her, she said something that made me pause.

"... one last time," she whispered, so quiet that I almost missed it.

"Eh?"

The world went silent.

The night breeze stilled. The crickets ceased their song. The moonlight on her skin suddenly felt cold.

’What did she say?’

The words hung in the air between us, heavy and sharp.

One last time.

I pulled back, my hard cock suddenly feeling like a lead weight, the heat of the moment extinguished by a bucket of ice water. I saw her then, not as the willing, lusty partner I’d just been devouring, but as someone standing on the edge of a precipice.

Her shoulders, which had been relaxed in pleasure, were now tense, squared. The seductive arch in her back was rigid. The face turned toward me was a mask of forced desire, but beneath it, her emerald eyes were swimming with something dark and final.

"Aeli," I said, my own voice lower, stripped of its predatory purr. "What do you mean, ’one last time’?"

She flinched at the tone. She tried to turn away, to hide her face, but I was faster. My hand shot out, not forceful, but firm, cupping her chin and forcing her to look at me.

"Talk to me."

Her throat worked. A single tear welled up and traced a path through the light dusting of pollen on her cheek.

"I..." she started, then stopped, her gaze darting to the side, toward the palace, before coming back to mine.

"I can’t see you anymore," she said, her voice brittle.

"What?"

"After the banquet tomorrow," she said, the words rushing out of her now, a torrent of desperate truth. "After... after the purification ritual. I’m leaving."

The words landed like a blade between ribs—clean, precise, and so unexpectedly deep I almost didn’t feel the pain at first.

"Leaving?" My hand was still on her chin. I didn’t let go. Couldn’t. "Leaving how? For how long?"

Aeli’s lashes fluttered, another tear slipping free. She didn’t try to pull away this time.

"Permanently."

The word was a death knell in the silent garden.

"To where and why?" I asked, my hands shaking. I released her chin slowly, as though she might shatter if I moved too fast.

"I’m... going to a faraway land," she said, her voice barely audible. "My mother arranged it for me."

"Your mother."

The two words came out flat. Dead. Like someone had reached into my chest, grabbed my lungs, and squeezed until only cold air remained.

Aeli nodded once—small, miserable.

"As to why... I don’t know," she sobbed. "She said it’s for my own good. That... that I need to see the world outside this gilded cage. To find... myself."

’That lying bitch,’ I thought. ’Trying to get in my way and Aeli.’

"Do you realize that our child is inside you?" I gestured toward her stomach. "You’re pregnant, Aeli. With my child. You can’t just... leave."

I watched her face, tears making her vision blurry.

"I know..." she whispered. Then her hand slowly reached for my cheek. Her touch was gentle, but it felt like a brand, a final, searing goodbye.

"You’re the first friend I ever had." Aeli’s tears were flowing freely now, her emerald eyes pools of sorrow. "And the only one who ever saw me, not the ugly elf, but... me. And I will always love you for that."

"Thank you, Morgana... for this gift." Her other hand moved to her belly. "I will cherish it. I will love it with all my heart. But... I cannot stay."

She slowly leaned in, planting a soft, lingering kiss on my lips. It was not a kiss of passion. It was a kiss of farewell.

"I’m so sorry," she whispered against my lips. "I truly am."

Then she pulled away, leaving me standing there, my heart a gaping, bleeding wound in my chest.

"This is the end," her voice was a choked whisper. "Goodbye, my... love."

She turned and walked away, her red dress a splash of defiant color against the pale moonlight and silver foliage. She didn’t look back. Not once.

I stood frozen. The silence of the garden was no longer peaceful; it was deafening.

"Goodbye?" I muttered to the empty air. "Over my dead body."