Supreme Spouse System.

Chapter 78: The Priestess [R-18]

The Priestess

Leon’s lips took hers again—slow, firm, and authoritative. Cynthia’s breath caught as she whimpered against him, her arms creeping up his back, tracing his muscles weakly under her fingertips. Her body relaxed under the heat of his kiss.

But this kiss... it wasn’t about possession.

It was exploration.

He pulled back, just to follow with soft, hot kisses her other cheek—her cheek—the corner of her eye—her jaw – her forehead – then back to her lips again. Her breath caught at the brush of his lips all over his entire face.

As if he were claiming her, marking her not with force, but with reverence and devotion.

And all the while, Leon’s hands glided under her nightgown, slow and deliberate, the heat of his palms tracing up her waist. The light material clung to her skin as he reached further, sliding past to her breast.

Cynthia gasped softly when his fingers brushed the underside of her breasts, still covered by the lace of her bra. She trembled, her breath hitching as he cupped her breast, firm yet gentle.

"You’re already so warm," he whispered, lips close to her ear.

His thumbs traveled in gentle circles over the peaks, still clad in the thin fabric. Even under the lace, the response was immediate—her nipples grew rigid under his caress.

"A-ah..." she breathed, attempting to stifle the moan that threatened in her throat as he started to squeeze and manipulate them slowly, feeling out her contours with deliberate slowness. Her eyes drifted closed, overwhelmed by the feeling.

Leon smiled at her answer. "Sensitive, aren’t you?" His voice low, teasing.

She parted her lips, perhaps to say something, but only a soft moan escaped her that made him move closer.

His fingers glided slowly, almost gently, as he massaged her breasts beneath the fabric, fingers caressing and playing until her body stretched out toward him, asking for more.

"L-Lord..." she breathed, her voice trembling.

The manner in which she moaned —shivering, panting—only seemed to cause his cock to ache all the more.

"Shh," he whispered against her neck, his voice as smooth as silk infused with a burning temperature.

He kissed her there, beneath her ear. Then lower on her neck. Then again—this time harder.

Marking her. A tiny, red hickey flowered where his mouth had rested. Cynthia groaned once more, at the mercy of it, her body curving beneath him as his hands worked over her breasts, his finger playing across her nipple through the delicate lace and his lips leaving her another bruise on her collarbone.

She could hardly think. Her body was heating up too fast, her skin aching to be touchedmore by him. Everywhere he kissed, touched, or breathed on felt sensitive to the point of madness.

"If he stops touching me... I’ll lose my mind..." she murmured in heart.

His scent

His smell washed over her nostrils and blanketed her brain—fresh, warm with that subtle, scented something she couldn’t pinpoint. It dazzled her, took what was left of her composure. It made her lightheaded.

Why does this hurt so much? she thought, catching her breath. Why can’t I stop?

But as soon as the idea passed through her mind, she knew the answer in her chest, in the hard pound of her heart. There was no little doubt remaining now. Her body had already made up its mind. She didn’t want him to stop, not now, not ever. She wanted more—his touch, his kiss.

Leon leaned back a little; his breathing labored, his golden eyes fixed on her flushed, gasping figure. She was utterly ravaged-looking —her skin rosy, her body shuddering, breathing shallow, and her skin slicked with sweat—and still, he hadn’t even started to really touch her.

Then with a hesitant, measured move, his fingers followed the edge of her nightgown.

"May I?" He inquired teasingly, his voice a hushed, sly whisper that had her heart thundering.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, each beat more resonant than the last. She didn’t pause—her desire burned too fiercely. She wanted him: to touch her, claim her, leave marks on her, destroy her.

Then with a gentle breath, she nodded, her eyes dropping into shyness, cheeks burning with heat.

That expression—innocent but willing—gave him a sudden jolt of electricity. His heart pounded.

He smiled—slow, hungry, full of pent-up longing—he started to pulling the silky blue nightgown up—teasing her with each inch revealed. Her smooth thighs first, then the soft curve of her waist, and then the fragile shape of her breasts, barely covered with lace. He yanked the gown over her head and then discarded it, forgotten.

She lay under him now—dressed in nothing but a transparent black net bra and matching black panties, her snowy skin radiating under the moonlight filtered through window. Cool air stroked across her body, and she shivered. Automatically, she attempted to cover herself, arms crossing over chest—but it was too late.

Leon had already glimpsed everything... and wanted more.

Then Leon’s hands grasped her wrists—gentle but firm.

"Don’t," he whispered, his voice low but genuine and deeper. "Why hide... when you look that damn beautiful?"

Cynthia stood still under his eyes; her breath was trapped in her throat. Her heart pounded. The softness in his words burned through her like flames, and slowly—bashfully—she let her arms drop to her sides, baring herself completely to him.

Leon’s gaze wandered over her like a languid touch. Her breasts were full, soft, and beautifully outlined behind the filmy netted material. Her black lace bra hugged her breast tightly, pushing them together just enough to deepen the cleavage of her bosom. He could see her nipples slightly visible under the thin material— already erect, flushed, responding to his teasing.

Her panties were matching black, snug and smooth—displaying a small, moist stain in the middle—testament to her desire, which caused his breath to catch.

Her black hair fell in waves over the silk sheets, dark and sleek as spilled ink. Her skin was flushed from head to toe, a deep red hue that equaled the heat building inside her. Her dark eyes were heavy, quivering under long lashes, as if she were trapped in the clutches of a suffocating emotion.

The intensity of his gaze made her feel exposed, vulnerable. Embarrassment crept over her, and she turned her head away, unable to meet his eyes. Why does he look at me like that? she wondered. Like I’m prey. and he’s the predator.

Leon leaned down afterwards—slipping lower onto her chest, exhaling gently as his lips brushed against her cleavage. He lingered there, drawing in the heat of her skin, the hint of floral scent wafting up from her body—sweet, heady, hers alone. It filled his lungs, and for a moment, he closed his eyes, as though her presence disarmed him.

"Mmm," he breathed on her skin. "You smell so damn addictive priestess..." and kissed her cleavage with a slow, deep one.

Cynthia bit her lip, a gentle whimper escaping— "Mnnhh..."—as the mouth of his pressed a slow, slow kiss in between the rounds of her breasts. Her breath caught, her hands fisting in the sheets she lay on.

"So soft..." he murmured. "So perfect." he whispered, lips moving on her cleavage. "You’re driving me insane..."

Cynthia bit her lip, her hands clutching the sheets.

His voice—his kisses—his touch, all at once, overwhelmed her senses. Her whole body felt like it was burning from the inside.

Leon’s hand slipped around her back, and with a gentle click, the bra clasp released. She raised her arms reflexively, letting him slip the straps down and pull it free.

Her breasts spilled loose—round, yielding, topped with taut pink nipples that invited his touch.

Leon drew up a little, gasping.

"So beautiful..." Leon breathed, his tone of soft wonder—not mockery, but raw, unselfconscious admiration.

Cynthia flushed, her cheeks hollowing with heat. But this time... she didn’t look away. She didn’t hide.

She let him see.

His eyes grazed her body slowly, as if in reverence, as if memorizing every inch. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against the gentle slope of her breast.

"Goddesses should be jealous of you," he breathed, every word underlined with hunger.

Her breathing caught. "Y-You shouldn’t say those things." she breathed on shallow gasps, her voice shaking with shyness and anticipation.

"But I mean every word," he said, his lips tracing deeper. "And your body true me more than your word does.

Leon’s lean and his lips probed her lips with slow, deliberate reverence. His lips discovered her skin —warm, flushed, shuddering beneath each kiss. Cynthia gasped, her breath caught as his tongue drew delicate circles, setting fire with each sweep.

Cynthia cried out, arching her back. "L-Lord—!"

Leon’s lips migrate to her breast, lips brushing hers softly before wandering to her chin, then her neck. His hands went back to her exposed chest, his fingers squeezing softly, kneading, teasing her nipples between his fingers.

Cynthia groaned, her back curving. This... this is making me crazy.

His lips found her collarbone, and then he lowered himself—down to the top rise of her breast. He kissed, then licked, then finally sucked one nipple into his mouth.

"Ahn—!"

He growled against her breast softness, enjoying the way she moaned, the way her fingers gripped his hair.

Her moan was high and shrill as he sucked gently, tongue lashing the sensitive tip, then nipping lightly before calming it with slow strokes. Her hands shot to his head, fingers twisting in his black hair, pushing him deeper into her breast.

Leon groaned softly against her flesh, moving to the other breast, doing the same teasing tenderness. He sucked slowly, greedily, as if savoring something holy.

She’s flawless. All of her. And she’s mine...

After he had claimed both nipples, he started leaving kisses down once more—along her ribs, over her belly, to her navel. His tongue darted over her belly button, and Cynthia shook violently.

Then he halted—kneeling between her legs, eyes. concealing her treseure.

And then he froze —kneeling between her thighs, his eyes fixed on the tiny wet patch on her smooth black-panty. His hands stroked her thighs with slow reverence.

"Cynthia," he spoke, low, soft—nearly reverent.

Her breath hitched, heart pounding.

"I’m going to taste you now." he whispered softly—not asking, not asking permission, but telling her what was next.

Her eyes went wide. "W-wait—Leon—!"

But he didn’t.

He leaned forward and kissed directly to her clothed clit.

Her hips twitched, a sharp gasp spilling from her lips. "Ahhh—!"

The heat of his mouth, even through the fabric, sent her twitching in shock.

He kissed again—slow, deliberate—and again. Her panties were damp now, the dark wet stain spreading wider by the second.

This... this is too much...!

Leon looked up at her then—hair slightly tousled, his lips little wet, and eyes gleaming with desire.

"You’re going insane for me already," he said with a smug smile.

And he was right.

Cynthia was stretched out, legs shaking, flushed skin, black eyes glassed over with lust. Her breasts rose and fell in gasping breaths. Her nipples strained, still firm and wet from his lips. Her panties were almost soaked, stuck to her wet folds.

And she couldn’t help looking at him—his face, his mouth, the way he never looked away from her. She had never felt so open. Or so desired.

And she desired more.