The Villainess Wants To Retire Chapter 338: Monster in bed

ERIS

I blacked out mid-thrust.

One mont Soren was buried impossibly deep, my body shaking apart around him for what felt like the hundredth ti, and the next, nothing. My last coherent thought was a delirious, half-hysterical whisper in my own mind: If the dragon doesn’t kill , this man’s pounding will.

Then everything went black.

I woke slowly, groggy and disoriented, with no idea whether it was morning, afternoon, or still the sa endless night. The aurora light had faded from the windows, replaced by a soft, diffused glow that could have been dawn or dusk or anything in between.

My body felt... destroyed. Not just sore, destroyed. Every muscle scread in protest, thighs trembling even while lying still, core aching with a deep, throbbing fullness that made gasp the instant consciousness returned.

Cold pressed against my back. Strong arms caged from behind, one under my breasts, the other draped possessively over my hip.

Safe. Trapped.

I tried to shift, to ease the ache between my legs, and froze.

He was still Inside .

The bastard was still inside .

I twisted my head just enough to glance down, heart stuttering. There it was: the thick length of him buried to the hilt, my swollen folds stretched around his base, a sticky ss of our releases dried and fresh alike coating my thighs and the sheets beneath us.

Soren slept soundly, breath steady against my nape, face peaceful in repose like so innocent winter god.

And the worst part, the absolutely insane part, was how good it felt. Full. Complete. My traitorous body clenched around him involuntarily, a soft pulse of pleasure that made bite back a whimper.

The greedy bastard is still inside , I thought, horrified and helplessly aroused, and I like it.

I tried to move away, inching forward on trembling arms. The drag of him inside sent sparks up my spine, but I gritted my teeth and kept going.

I didn’t get far.

Soren’s arms tightened instantly, pulling back flush against his chest. He wasn’t even fully awake, just instinct, so wide instinct or command that refused to let warmth escape.

His lips found my neck, pressing lazy, sleepy kisses along the bruises he’d left there, then my shoulder, the shell of my ear. I was bathed in kisses before I could protest, drowning in the gentle affection.

"Let go of you bastard," I managed, voice hoarse and cracked from screaming his na half the night.

His chuckle rumbled against my skin, sleepy and amused. "You sure about that? You keep gripping . Like you don’t want to let go."

Heat flooded my face. My hand had, without permission, clamped down on his thigh, trying to pull away, yes, but also holding him in place. I couldn’t even pull him out myself. My body wouldn’t let . It clenched again, greedy and shaless, and I hated how much I liked the way he filled .

Even Caelen, intense as he could be, had never made feel like this. Utterly wrecked. Utterly owned. Soren with his innocent face and those ridiculous lashes was a monster in bed, and I was succumbing to it. Worse, I wanted to.

"Please, Soren," I whispered, not even sure if I was begging him to stop or to move. "You have to, "

But my body was already betraying again. My hips rolled back against him, seeking friction. My mouth found his when he turned my face, kissing him slow and deep and helpless.

He murmured sothing about the maids bringing refreshnts soon, and then we were moving together again for another hour or two and blackness tugged at once more.

I woke again to actual daylight.

Finally freed from him, though every inch of rembered exactly where he’d been. Sunlight filtered through the high windows, turning the shallow water floor into a mirror of pale gold. I had no idea what ti it was, or how long I’d slept.

My body felt worse than sore, every muscle scread, bite marks and bruises blooming across my skin like a map of the night. Between my legs was a warm, sticky disaster, tender and swollen and utterly satisfied.

A tray waited on the bedside table: fresh fruit, bread, chilled juice, little pastries. My stomach growled ferociously. I was starving after that... exercise.

I tried to maneuver out of the tangled sheets, reaching for a piece of fruit but his obnoxious grip was unrelenting.

I stared at the ceiling. Fuck my life.

But I nestled back against him anyway, because, gods help , I liked it.

I let him sleep a little longer. Long enough for to plot a suitably sadistic wake-up. Sothing mischievous. Sothing that would make him pay for reducing to this boneless, aching ss.

Instead I found myself staring.

His face in daylight was unfairly beautiful, long blonde lashes fanned against sharp cheekbones, lips slightly parted, hair tousled across the pillow. Innocent. Until I rembered the unrelenting way he’d claid , the way he’d marked every inch of , the way he’d co inside again and again like he wanted to brand from the inside out. My heart beat faster, traitorous thing.

Nope.

I reached out and slapped his cheek, not hard, just a sharp little tap.

His eyes snapped open slowly.

A slow, wicked smile spread across his face.

"Good morning," he said, voice gravel-rough with sleep. "Or afternoon. Or... "

"There’s nothing good about this ti," I cut in, glaring with absolutely no heat behind it. "I want to eat. You’re responsible for this. I can’t move."

"I’m sorry," he said, and the bastard didn’t sound sorry at all.

He proved it by sliding out of bed, gloriously naked and utterly unselfconscious, and lifting into his arms like I weighed nothing. I protested, weakly, until he carried to the bathing chamber where a deep tub already stead with warm water scented with oils.

He lowered In gently, following down until I was cradled between his legs, back to his chest. Soft cloths and careful hands washed away the evidence of the night, sticky thighs, bruised skin, the ache between my legs soothed by warm water and tender fingers.

He massaged my shoulders, my back, my aching thighs with a patience that made my throat tight. Fed bites of fruit between touches, holding the cup to my lips when my arms felt too heavy.

I almost purred.

No one had ever cared for like this. Not once. Caelen had taken, demanded, possessed, but never this quiet, worshipful tenderness afterward. Soren was a monster in bed and devastatingly devoted out of it. A dangerous, dangerous combination.

I could get used to this.

The thought terrified more than any dragon ever had.

We stayed in the water a long ti, surrounded by steam and silence and the slow, steady beat of his heart against my spine. His hands never stopped moving, gentle, soothing, reverent. My eyes drifted shut, exhaustion pulling at again, but this ti it felt safe.

For the first ti in two lives, I felt utterly, perfectly cared for.