Chapter 532 – More Alive Than Ever
[They do not. But I am flagging this as a critical psychological event.]
Lux snorted, covering his eyes with one hand. "You’re annoying."
[My job, sir.]
Another long silence. This one a little softer.
Lux finally stood, poured a fresh glass. Only half this ti, and returned to the bed. He sat on the edge beside Naomi, watching her breathe. Her lips twitched slightly like she was dreaming of sothing pleasant.
"Hey," he said quietly, though he didn’t expect her to wake. "Next ti I go off the deep end... remind to let you hold first."
[Noted, sir.]
And for once...
The system said no more.
Just quietly monitored, while its prince watched the girl who made the storm quieter, if only for a while.
The next morning ca.
Soft, muted blue light spilled across the velvet curtains.
The room was still and quiet—too quiet for soone like Naomi to be awake. But her eyes fluttered open, lashes brushing against the silk pillowcase as she blinked slowly.
She didn’t move at first.
Her body felt heavy, not from exhaustion but from the weight of last night. Her lips parted with a slow exhale, and her gaze drifted toward the glowing numbers on the old-fashioned analog clock on the dresser. 05:30 AM.
She still had ti to sleep.
But her throat was dry. Her body sticky. And her mouth tasted like wine, sweat, and the echo of Lux’s na.
She groaned softly and sat up slowly, bracing herself.
She hissed.
Or... expected to.
Sixty rounds. Sixty. Not sixty minutes, but actual rounds. Whatever that even ant anymore with Lux.
She shifted her legs off the bed carefully, anticipating pain in her thighs, maybe lower back, maybe even her soul, but...
Nothing.
She blinked and stood, bare feet touching the cool marble floor.
Still nothing.
No ache. No limp. No soreness.
She glanced back at the bed, at the half-covered figure lying on his side, his back toward her, hair tousled, chest rising and falling steadily.
Her voice ca out in a whisper, half disbelief. "He didn’t lie..."
She didn’t expect a reply.
Lux had warned her that being with a hybrid incubus ant her body would adapt. That it would evolve slightly, just enough to keep up. She never believed it entirely. Thought he was just flirting.
But now? Her legs were fine. Her throat, not so much. But the rest of her?
She looked like she should be broken.
But she felt more alive than ever.
Shaking her head with a tiny laugh, she padded toward the side table and poured herself a drink from the crystal carafe. The water was room temperature but clean, fresh, kissed with a hint of lemon. She drank greedily, finishing one glass and pouring a second.
She really was dehydrated.
Her fingers ran through her hair lazily, still tangled from all the tossing and grabbing and rolling. She could feel dried sweat on her skin, the faint stickiness of shared pleasure clinging to her inner thighs, and the soreness finally peeking out in the form of mory, not pain.
She thought of bathing. Of sneaking into the luxury tub in Lux’s private washroom and soaking for an hour. But then her gaze drifted again.
Lux.
He had shifted slightly in his sleep.
Now lying more on his back, the black silk robe parted slightly down the middle, abs exposed, lips parted just slightly, his face softened by sleep.
So marks remained. Her marks. Nail scratches. A faint bite. A red line near his neck.
But it wasn’t the sex marks that stopped her.
It was him.
The way he looked right now...
It reminded her of the first ti she ever saw him sleeping.
The first ti they were together, before they were together. That accidental eting when he looked like a tired accountant rather than a CFO.
That look on his face. That half-scowl-half-serenity expression. Like even in dreams he was running numbers in his head but pretending not to care.
But now? This was different.
He looked... unguarded.
Innocent, almost.
Like he didn’t wear the weight of Hell’s economy on his back. Like he wasn’t the CFO of the underworld or the kind of man who turned political blackmail into bedti strategy.
Just Lux. Just her demon.
Her hand tightened slightly around her glass.
She wanted to touch him.
No... she wanted to spoil him.
She padded softly back to the bed, glass in hand, and sat beside him, one leg folded under her. She leaned over him a little, just to look.
Close up, his lashes were unfairly long. His lips still swollen from how many tis they kissed, bit, and whispered into her. His hair was a ss. A sexy one. The kind only she got to see.
Her eyes dropped down again.
His robe was still slightly parted. The abs. The slight sheen on his chest. And lower...
A dangerous thought blood.
She swallowed.
Her mind whispered things she shouldn’t be thinking at five thirty in the morning after a sixty-round night.
But then again...
Her eyes flicked down again. His cock wasn’t fully hard, just relaxed, resting against his thigh, but the mory of its weight... the taste... the way he groaned when she wrapped her lips around it...
Her thighs squeezed together instinctively.
Damn him.
Even asleep, he was addictive.
And his cum?
Naomi closed her eyes, cheeks hot, rembering how it tasted. How it didn’t have that salty bitterness... no. It was sweet. Like syrup and heat and sothing dangerously good. She never told him this, but part of her had craved it. Like a drug.
And now, seeing him like this?
Peaceful. Open. Robe half-off and skin so warm she could practically feel it calling her?
She wanted to taste again.
Not to start sothing. Not even for sex.
Just to pamper him.
He looked like he needed it.
She leaned in slowly, careful not to wake him, her lips ghosting over his chest. She placed a single kiss above his heart. Then another near his collarbone. Her hand brushed the silk fabric aside just a little more.
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