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.'
