"Finally… well done, Your Highness…" she whispered, her voice a delicate mix of pride and something softer, almost trembling. Her fingers brushed against his cheek, trailing down to his jaw, and then—almost as if by instinct—she leaned in again, her lips capturing his in another desperate, heated kiss.
"Mmm… mnh… slrp…" The wet, eager sounds filled the air once more, their tongues swirling, tasting, drinking in the warmth of each other. But this time, her kiss carried a faint, desperate urgency, her fingers tangling in his damp hair, pulling him closer. Her body pressed against his, her hips rocking, a faint, aching whimper slipping from her lips.
Mikhailis's hands found her waist again, gripping her tighter, his fingers sinking into the soft curves of her sides. His focus on the emerald light in his palm began to waver, but he no longer cared. The heat of her mouth, the sweetness of her taste—it was an addiction, a wildfire that consumed every thought.
