I smooth my palms over the Ash King’s pectorals again—only this time I circle his nipples and roll them gently between my fingers. His head tilts back, muscles along his jaw flexing, and his cock dips again. I work my way lower. His stomach is rock-hard and ridged now, taut with impending release. I mold my palms to each muscle, enjoying them on the way down. This time, when I reach his cock, I curl my hand around it and stroke upward once, firmly, and then let go. The Ash King lets out a broken gasp, twitching helplessly. I love that sound. I want to hear it over and over—I don’t think I will
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