Just then, while she was lost in the first violent shiver that ripped through her core and about to come—her pussy clamping down like a velvet fist around his cock, walls spasming in frantic, rhythmic waves that milked him from root to tip, dragging thick cream out in frothy white rings—Phei closed his eyes and knew.
This was the moment.
The exact heartbeat where her climax shattered every defense she had left.
The precise second her soul cracked open under the unbearable weight of endless, blinding pleasure. If he let her come—if he let her ride out the orgasm and catch even one ragged breath—Cassiopeia would bind him.
The bracelet on her wrist would flare with cold silver light, her will would snap into place like a guillotine, and he would become nothing but an empty vessel: obedient an empty perfect hollow shell with no desires of his own.
He wasn't going to let that happen.
