CHAPTER 116: DEVOURING...(2)(R18+)

Fiona moved with practiced ease, her lips wrapped around the tip of his beak, teasing it with slow, wet strokes. Her mouth worked expertly, each motion deliberate, drawing out the heat building in him.

As she eased off, her lips clung tight, dragging every sensation with them. Spit glistened along his throbbing length, dripping from her chin as the slick sounds of her mouth echoed through the cave—gagging, slurping, hungry.

Steve’s legs jerked involuntarily, the tremor running up his thighs as he fought to hold back. His breath hitched, heart pounding, the pressure unbearable.

Fiona opened her eyes, catching the way his muscles tensed, the way he struggled not to lose control.

’Not yet.’

She swallowed and leaned in again, taking him deeper, faster.

’If I left him cum now, it’ll get messy. And if Ser Ira finds out...’

She didn’t finish the thought. Instead, she sealed her lips tighter, swallowing him down with one long, shuddering pull.

’I can’t leave any trace.... Just me.’

Her tongue flicked one last time—and then she felt it, he broke.

Her hands glided up and down his slick shaft, coated in spit and lust. Every stroke was smooth, wet, and perfect—her palms sliding effortlessly over his cock, teasing every ridge and vein.

The heat of her grip, combined with the messy saliva dripping from her lips, made the friction maddeningly sweet.

Steve’s cock throbbed between her hands, thick and aching, the head nestled against her tongue as she swirled around it with practiced hunger.

She moaned softly around him, letting the vibration hum through his length, feeding his tension.

Her pace quickened—hands stroking him with eager precision while her mouth devoured the tip, tongue flicking, sucking, tasting. Wet sounds filled the air: the lewd slurp of her mouth, the slick rhythm of her strokes, the faint hitch in his breath every time she twisted just right.

Heat coursed through her body. It started in her chest, then poured down her belly, settling between her thighs. Her breasts bounced with each motion, full and heavy, the soft slap of skin echoing faintly.

She looked up—lips stretched around his tip, eyes smoldering.

’He’s close.’

The taste, the smell, the way he twitched under her touch—it was too much. And just as her tongue pressed firmly against the underside of his head, dragging up the slit—

She felt it.

The sharp jerk of his hips. The pulse.

He was about to-

Sprout!

The first pulse of Steve’s boiling semen burst into her mouth, hot and thick. Fiona didn’t flinch—she welcomed it. Her hands never slowed; if anything, they moved faster, stroking his cock with hungry precision even as her throat worked around him.

He groaned—loud, raw, helpless—as his cock throbbed again, shooting another thick spurt deep onto her tongue. Then another. And another.

His body trembled, mouth falling open as waves of ecstasy tore through him, each one released in a molten stream that she took eagerly, without pause.

Her eyes fluttered, lashes trembling as she swallowed every drop. His cum filled her mouth, coating her tongue, spilling across the insides of her cheeks—and still, she kept him buried in her mouth, sucking gently, coaxing out every last drop.

Her chest rose and fell, her breath hot and fast. Her lips stayed sealed around him until she finally felt it—one final throb, one last pulse.

His release was complete.

Gasp.

Fiona slowly pulled back, a soft gasp escaping her lips as she let his cock slide free with a wet pop. Saliva and cum clung to her lips, dripping in messy strands from her chin—but her eyes never left his.

Then, without a word...

Gulp.

Fiona’s cheeks were still flushed, the heat of what just happened lingering on her skin. She cast a glance down at Steve—still out cold—and then shifted her eyes toward Ser Ira, confirming she was still asleep.

With a soft breath, Fiona reached for Steve’s pants and carefully tucked him back in, hiding the evidence beneath the fabric. Her fingers lingered for a second longer than necessary.

’Hmm...his cum tastes different this time.’ she thought.

’Kind of...good.’ She swallowed.

Her hand rose instinctively to her face, fingertips brushing over her cheek, jaw, lips—checking for any lingering traces of his cum.

’Damn... I should clean up before they wake. If they see me like this... things could get complicated.’

Without another word, Fiona rose and made her way toward the cave’s entrance. She paused once—just a glance back at Steve—then slipped outside, disappearing into the morning silence.

A brief stillness hung in the cave.

Then...Steve stirred.

His eyelids fluttered open, slowly at first, then fully as he adjusted to the dim light. His head lifted, scanning the space.

Fiona was gone.

His gaze shifted toward Ser Ira. Still asleep.

Good, he thought, exhaling softly. He sat up with a grunt, stretching out the stiffness in his limbs, his body sore from the cold stone floor.

He rolled his shoulders and flexed his back with a quiet groan.

’Damn, what a night.’

A faint smirk played on his lips.

’...Fiona really knows when to put her cravings to work.’

’It’s not like her deep throats really helped clear my mind. If anything, I was still stressed.’

"But..." He murmured to himself.

"...She probably wouldn’t be back for a few minutes. That gave me some time. Time to breathe. Time to think."

’And all I can say now is... They plan to find Maggie....’

’...I need to think it over, really think, because if I’m being honest—finding her might take a lot longer than we expected. Her tracks just keep stretching deeper and deeper into the forest. No clear sign or clue how far she’s gone.’

’And truth be told... it’s starting to feel like it’s not worth it....I want to find her. I do. But what matters more now... is our safety.’

’To keep us safe, I need to be alive. Ira needs to be alive. That has to come first....So to put it straight: if I really want to be sure I can get a spell to heal Ira, instead of spending most of our time chasing Maggie through who-knows-where, with no promise of finding her anytime soon...’

He paused momentarily.

’I think it’s better...’

’...that I use the Author’s Notebook again...but...there’s one pending issue- I don’t have it.’