Lucifer: Godless Reawakening-Chapter 235: Finally one**

Emma’s moan spilled soft and broken into the quiet room, a trembling sound that rose from deep in her chest as William’s mouth moved between her thighs.

He was buried there—face pressed to her most intimate heat, tongue slow and deliberate, worshipping her with a passion that made her toes curl against the sheets.

Every long, languid lick dragged along her folds, parting her gently, tasting the slick evidence of how thoroughly he’d already unraveled her earlier.

He lingered at her entrance, dipping just inside before gliding upward in a slow, wet circle around the swollen pearl that throbbed for him.

Her hips lifted instinctively, seeking more, but his large hands settled firmly on the tops of her thighs—holding her open, keeping her exactly where he wanted her. Not stopping her. Guiding. Adoring.

"Will..." Her voice cracked on his name, fingers twisting into his golden hair. She tugged without meaning to, and he groaned against her in response—the vibration traveling straight through her core, making her back arch off the mattress on another helpless moan.

He pulled back just enough to let her feel the cool air against her wet, flushed skin, then blew a soft, deliberate breath over her sensitive clit. Emma whimpered, thighs trembling around his shoulders.

"Look at you," he murmured, voice rough and thick with desire. His lips brushed her inner thigh as he spoke, leaving a damp kiss there. "So eager... so wet for me. I could stay here forever."

Before she could answer—before she could even draw breath—he lowered his head again. This time his tongue flattened against her, pressing broad and firm from bottom to top in one devastating stroke, then curled around her clit with precise, fluttering flicks that made stars burst behind her closed eyelids.

Emma’s moans turned rhythmic, rising and falling with each careful lap, each gentle suck. Her heels dug into the bed; her fingers tightened in his hair until she was almost pulling him closer, silently begging him to never stop.

He obliged.

One hand slid up her body—palm skimming the quivering plane of her stomach, cupping the soft weight of her breast, thumb circling a stiff nipple in the same slow rhythm his tongue kept below.

The dual sensation—his mouth devouring her between her legs, his fingers teasing the peak of her breast—sent fresh heat pooling low in her belly.

She was close already. So close. The tension coiled tighter with every reverent stroke of his tongue, every murmured sound of pleasure he made against her—like he was savoring the taste of her, like nothing in the world existed beyond the slick heat of her and the way she trembled for him.

"William—please—" Her voice was a wrecked whisper, hips rocking against his face now, chasing the edge he held just out of reach.

He hummed in approval, the sound rumbling through her, and sucked her clit gently between his lips—steady, insistent pressure while the flat of his tongue flicked fast and light beneath.

Emma’s moan shattered into a cry. Her thighs clamped around his head; her back bowed sharp and high.

Pleasure crashed through her in bright, pulsing waves, and he didn’t stop—not even as she shook and gasped and flooded his mouth with her release.

He licked her through every tremor, soft and slow now, drawing out the aftershocks until she was boneless, panting, utterly spent beneath him.

Only then did he lift his head.

His lips were glossy, chin wet with her. His eyes, dark, burning, locked on hers as he crawled slowly up her body, kissing every mark he’d left earlier: the bloom on her throat, the curve of her breast, the sensitive dip beneath her navel.

When he finally settled between her thighs again, hard and heavy against her still-pulsing entrance, he braced himself above her and brushed sweat-damp hair from her forehead.

"Are you okay, love?" he asked, voice gravel-rough but impossibly tender.

Emma managed a shaky nod, then reached up to cup his face, pulling him down until their lips met in a slow, deep kiss. She tasted herself on his tongue—salty-sweet, intimate—and moaned softly into his mouth.

"More," she whispered against him. "I want all of you now."

William’s breath hitched.

The thick head of him pressed forward again, parting her slowly, deliberately. Emma’s breath hitched as he breached her—stretching tender, slick walls that hadn’t yet known this fullness

The first real inch sank in with a wet, intimate glide, and she gasped sharply, fingers digging into his shoulders. A flicker of pain bloomed low in her belly, sharp enough to make her thighs tense around his hips.

William froze instantly.

"Easy, Emma," he whispered, voice low and rough with restraint. He didn’t push deeper. Instead he lowered himself until his chest brushed hers, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat. One hand cradled the side of her face while the other stroked slow, soothing circles over her hip.

"Breathe with me," he murmured against her temple. "I’ve got you."

Emma nodded, eyes squeezed shut for a moment. She focused on the steady rise and fall of his chest against hers, on the warmth of his palm cupping her cheek, on the soft press of his lips brushing feather-light kisses along her closed eyelids, the bridge of her nose, the corner of her mouth.

As she exhaled, he eased forward another careful inch—slow enough that the stretch blurred into something warmer, fuller.

The sting lingered, but it was already softening, melting under the gentle rock of his hips, the way he held perfectly still whenever she tensed.

"Good girl," he praised softly, lips grazing her jaw. "You’re doing so beautifully."

Another shallow thrust—barely more than a nudge—and he sank deeper still. Emma whimpered, the sound half pain, half wonder. Her nails scored lightly down his back, leaving faint red trails he welcomed like marks of devotion.

He kissed her then—slow, open-mouthed, swallowing the little sounds she couldn’t hold back. His tongue stroked hers in the same unhurried rhythm he kept below;

gentle slides, patient retreats, coaxing her body to yield instead of forcing it.

When he was halfway inside, he paused again, letting her adjust to the thick heat of him splitting her open. He shifted his weight to one forearm so he could slip his free hand between them, fingertips finding the swollen bud at the top of her sex. He circled it lightly—soft, wet pressure that sent sparks racing up her spine.

Emma’s hips jerked involuntarily, a fresh rush of slickness easing his way.

"There you are," he murmured against her lips, smiling faintly when she moaned into his mouth. "Let it feel good again."

He kept that slow, steady rhythm with his fingers while he pressed deeper—inch by careful inch—until finally, finally, he was buried to the hilt. Their bodies locked together, trembling in the sudden, perfect stillness.

They were finally connected.

Emma looked into his eyes, her own eyes moist but the curve of her lips dictated something else than pain

It was fulfillment. It was a joy. It was a relief.

They both stared into each other’s eyes before William whispered, "I love you."

She smiled back and whispered, "I love you...." She sounded happy, maybe the only chant she could recite for the rest of her life without getting tired.

Emma let out a long, shaky exhale. The sharp edge of pain had dulled to a deep, aching stretch—intense, overwhelming, but no longer frightening.

She felt every inch of him: the heavy pulse inside her, the way her inner walls fluttered around his thickness, the heat of his hips flush against hers.

William lifted his head just enough to look at her.

"Still with me?" His voice was wrecked, eyes glassy with the effort of holding back.

She nodded, then reached up to thread her fingers through his hair, pulling him down until their foreheads touched.

"I’m okay," she whispered. A small, tremulous smile curved her lips. "More than okay."

He exhaled a rough laugh of pure relief, then kissed her again—deeper this time, slower, letting her taste the reverence and hunger he could no longer hide.

Only when her legs tightened around his waist, heels pressing into the small of his back in silent urging, did he begin to move.

A long, languid withdrawal—almost all the way out—followed by an equally slow slide back in. Each stroke dragged against every sensitive place inside her, coaxing soft gasps from her throat.

The pain was gone now, replaced by liquid heat, by the building pressure that made her toes curl and her breath hitch.

William kept his pace tender, measured, every thrust a quiet promise.

And with every thrust, they both were drawing closer.

Their hands clasped and finger interlaced.

"Emma...I..."

She didn’t hesitate, "Inside...please..."

William was too heated to think otherwise.

And with a grunt, he finally released everything inside his beloved.

Emma’s eyes rolled back in her head, back slightly arched as she felt extreme heat painting her insides.

They both have finally crossed the final boundary.

And that...was not going to be liked by a few.

°°°°°°°°

A/N:- Slowly, i am losing hope. Thank you for reading.