10x God-Tier Stealing System: Pumping S-Rank SuperHeroines Daily!-Chapter 175- You Taste like Heaven
He didn’t speak.
He just watched her — the way her chest rose and fell unevenly, her full breasts quivering with each ragged breath, nipples tight and flushed in the dim light.
The way her hands trembled slightly where they clutched the sheets, the way her thighs tensed under his grip.
Her pussy was glistening, pink and raw and aching, the folds quivering faintly with each passing second. A slick trail already trickled down toward the sheets.
She looked undone already, eyes wide and lips parted, and he hadn’t even truly touched her yet.
Then, slowly, he leaned in.
His lips brushed over her folds, soft and reverent — not a lick, not yet. Just a press of his mouth.
She gasped at the contact, her entire body flinching like she’d been struck by heat.
"Ah—"
She couldn’t help it. Her hips lifted off the bed instinctively, a jolt of pleasure snapping through her.
He smiled against her, the curve of his lips brushing sensitive skin.
And then he parted her slowly with his thumbs — revealing everything, every slick, flushed fold, the way her clit peeked out from under its hood, already swollen and twitching with anticipation.
She tried to look away, to hide behind her arm, but her body betrayed her.
The moment his tongue slid between her folds — hot, flat, deliberate — her breath caught violently. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚
"Hnnh—ahh..."
The sound came from somewhere deep in her throat, not even conscious.
Her thighs tensed around him, but he kept her open with firm, unhurried hands.
He licked her again. And again. Long, slow drags that made her toes curl.
The wet sounds of his tongue against her filled the room, obscene and slick and utterly honest.
She couldn’t stop trembling. Every flick of her clit made her flinch in that startled, too-much kind of way.
"W-wait—" she whimpered, but there was no conviction behind it.
Her fingers had already tangled in his hair, gripping tight, her hips rising to meet every motion of his mouth.
His tongue circled her clit now, slower, tighter, never quite giving her full contact.
The tip teased it, barely touched it, and when he finally flicked it — just once, precise and sharp — her whole body jerked.
"Ah—! Nngh..."
She tried to close her legs again, out of instinct — but his shoulders were there, unmovable.
He pressed closer, tongue flicking faster now, licking her clit with just enough pressure to drive her insane.
Her moans came in choked gasps now, broken pieces of breath.
When he closed his lips around her clit and sucked — hard and warm and perfect — she nearly screamed.
Her spine arched off the bed. Her hands fisted his hair, tugging without meaning to.
Her thighs clenched around his head as if trying to pull him in deeper. Her breasts bounced with the arch, nipples straining upward.
"F-fuck—oh god—it’s—!"
He moaned into her, and the vibration made her cry out again.
His hands slid down, thumbs digging into her hips to hold her steady as he devoured her.
Every inch of her, every fold, every slick pulse of heat, he kissed and licked and sucked with unrelenting attention.
She was soaking now — wetness spreading down to her thighs, slicking his lips, his chin.
His face was shining with it, but he didn’t care. He licked her like he loved her taste, like he could drink her forever.
She could feel her orgasm building — slow, deep, rising and dragging her under.
Her breaths came in shuddering pulls, her moans more urgent.
"P-please—please don’t stop, I’m gonna—" Her voice broke.
He didn’t stop. He latched onto her clit, sucked, and then gently — so gently — bit it.
She shattered.
Her scream was muffled by her hand as her body convulsed, every nerve lighting up.
Her thighs shook. Her pussy clenched around nothing, pulsing hard, again and again as wave after wave rolled through her.
And then she was squirting.
Hot, sudden — a gush that surprised even her. It splashed over his mouth, his face, dripping down his neck, and he just groaned low in his throat and kept licking, mouth open, lapping it all up like it was everything he’d been waiting for.
She whimpered through it, breath broken, hands covering her face, body trembling from the inside out. Her breasts heaved with each aftershock.
And still, he didn’t stop.
He stayed right there — tongue gentler now, drawing out every last ripple of her release, mouth soft and reverent against her still-quivering clit.
He worshipped her with every motion, grounding her back into her body.
When he finally lifted his head, his face was flushed, lips wet, eyes glowing.
He looked at her like she was a miracle.
She was breathless, undone — chest heaving, hair clinging to her damp forehead, eyes barely able to stay open.
He leaned over her, brushing a kiss to her thigh. Then higher. Another kiss on her stomach. Then one, tender and lingering, just under her heart.
"You taste like heaven," he whispered.
She didn’t speak. Couldn’t.
But the way she reached up, pulled him down to her, kissed him slow and deep — that said everything.
She stood before him like a vision soaked in fevered breath and bare skin, every inch of her luminous, flushed body trembling in the low light.
Her thick, heavy breasts rose with each uneven inhale, swaying slightly with the tremor in her thighs. The dusky nipples stood erect, begging for touch in the cool air.
A sheen of sweat clung to her skin, catching light along the soft curve of her belly, the under-arch of her breasts, the slick of her inner thighs — all of her still pulsing from what he’d done to her moments ago.
Her thighs were parted just enough for him to glimpse the soft, glistening swell between them — still sensitive, still twitching.
Then came his voice. Low. Gentle. Dangerous in its calmness.
"Can you unbutton it?"
Her eyes locked on his belt. She swallowed — throat tight, heartbeat in her ears. Then nodded.
She stepped forward slowly, her full hips swaying with unconscious rhythm, her hair falling in a dark curtain over one shoulder as she dropped to her knees.
Her heavy breasts swayed pendulously with the motion, nipples tracing faint arcs in the air.
The moment felt sacred — slow-motion — as her fingers reached for the button, brushing against his lower stomach. He was warm. Tense. Barely breathing.
Her fingers worked, slow and unsure, until the fabric gave. The zipper followed, dragging down like a drawn-out sigh.
And then he sprang free.
Her breath hitched — a sharp intake — as her eyes widened. She blinked once, then again, lips parting on a quiet, disbelieving sound.
But before she could speak—
His hips shifted.
Just a nudge — deliberate, slow, and primal.
The flushed heat of him tapped her lips.
She jerked back, eyes flaring, voice high and caught somewhere between surprise and accusation.
"What are you—?"
He raised both hands as if in surrender, the smirk curling his lips soft and playful.
"Sorry," he murmured, a single shrug in his voice. "My mistake."
She blinked again, lips still slightly parted where he’d touched them. Then — as if testing the heat that lingered — she raised two fingers and grazed her lower lip with a feather-light touch.
Her cheeks were flushed. Her breath uneven.
She looked up at him from under her lashes.
"What next?"
