CHAPTER 133: CHAPTER 133- HER HEART

"Hey," he said, voice a little rough, a little too soft like he knew what he was about to do wasn’t innocent anymore, "can I kiss you?"

She didn’t say anything. Just looked at him — that look, man. Not scared, not sure, not angry, just... complicated. Lips parted, maybe to speak, maybe not. Her breath was caught halfway and she didn’t even realize it.

But she didn’t pull away.

So he leaned in.

And God, when his lips finally brushed hers, it was like something unlocked. Like something deep and warm and slow melted down between them. She didn’t resist. Didn’t tense up. She just... closed her eyes.

And he kissed her.

Mouth on mouth, lips molding together like they were meant to be right there. His hand slid up — slow — brushing over her cheek, down the line of her neck, just to feel her, to ground himself, maybe. Then it kept going — his palm landing right over her chest. Not shy. Just there.

He cupped her boob. Just like that.

And her body reacted. A sharp inhale. Shoulders tensed. Her eyes popped open like she didn’t expect it, even though deep down she probably knew he’d go there eventually. Her hand twitched up like she wanted to stop him, say something.

"W-Wait," she mumbled, trying to lift herself.

But he bit her lip.

Just a soft bite. Just enough to make her flinch, to pull a sound from her mouth that wasn’t a word.

"Nh...!"

She moaned, just barely, like her body betrayed her. And his hand didn’t stop. He squeezed her boob again — more confident now, more deliberate — rolling the softness in his palm like he was savoring every second of it.

Thumb flicking gently along the side, dragging over where her nipple already stood up under the suit, making her gasp.

"You didn’t answer," he breathed against her lips, pulling back just enough to speak. His breath hit her face, warm and thick with everything unsaid. "But your heart did."

And then, before she could even react, he grabbed her hand — warm, trembling fingers — and pressed it flat against his bare chest.

"Listen," he said. "Feel that? That’s for you."

She nodded, barely.

He smiled, soft but dangerous. "Then... let me listen too."

And before she could blink, he dropped down — just sank forward like a man following instinct — and pressed his ear right against her right boob.

Right there.

She flinched hard. Her back arched without meaning to. "H-Hey—!"

But he was quiet. Completely still. Just lying there, his cheek smushed against her chest like he was hearing something ancient, something holy. His eyes closed. His breath slowed.

"Wow," he muttered after a beat. "It’s pulsing so hard..."

And fuck, he was moving his hips.

She hadn’t even noticed until the heat of it registered — his crotch grinding slow between her thighs, still clothed, but so warm and deliberate she couldn’t unfeel it.

Back and forth, slow, lazy friction like he was already fucking her with the idea of it.

She twitched. Her breath caught. The cage she’d just broken for herself? He was already inside it, warming it from the inside out, and she didn’t even realize it. Not fully.

She was just... melting. And he knew it.

He came back up, face close, his mouth brushing hers like he couldn’t stay away.

This time, the kiss was deeper. Wetter. Their tongues slid together like they were already past the point of hesitation. And his hand found her chest again — right back where it belonged — gripping her boob with rougher fingers this time. He molded it.

Pressed it. Let it fill his palm while his thumb rubbed over the latex and the tight bud beneath, teasing her.

Her eyes widened.

"Mmh—" she gasped, trying to push up.

But he bit her lip again, harder. She winced.

"Ah—!"

And the sound that left her throat? That wasn’t resistance anymore. That was a moan. That was heat. That was her body responding in real-time, even if her mind was trying to keep up.

Her hands were on his shoulders now, not pushing him off, just... holding. Gripping. Like she needed something solid as her breath came quicker and quicker.

And he didn’t stop.

His mouth on hers, his hips slowly grinding, hand gripping her chest like it belonged there — not in a hurry, not frantic — just slow, steady, inevitable.

He didn’t rush.

Just kept his hand on that one boob — warm, firm, way too big to hold in one grip, but he tried anyway. Fingers sinking in, palm molding around it like he was trying to memorize the shape. And all the while, that zipper went lower.

Real slow.

She flinched the second it slipped past the dip of her waist. That jolt — that tiny, helpless twitch — made him grin without meaning to.

"Shit," he muttered, "you’re not even wearing a bra under this?"

Her face went hot. Eyes wide. She moved like she wanted to shove him off, like she might actually say no this time — but he was already leaning in.

Didn’t wait. Didn’t ask again.

He opened his mouth — wide — eyes locked on hers like he wanted her to see it coming. And then he just... swallowed her nipple whole.

Her breath choked out of her throat.

"A-ah—!"

Hot. Wet. His tongue dragged over the tight bud, flicking once, then sucking hard enough to make her whole chest jerk.

She grabbed his shoulders. Fingernails digging in, maybe trying to pull him away, but she didn’t actually try. Her arms trembled, her back arched. And he just stayed there — lips sealed around her nipple, sucking slow and deep like he was drinking from her.

His other hand worked on the second boob now, not letting it feel left out. Thumb brushing over the untouched nipple while his mouth worshipped the first. Suck. Lick. Flick. Again and again until she gasped and twisted under him, legs clenching like she didn’t know what to do with them.

"W-Wait... nghh— s-stop," she whimpered, but it didn’t even sound like she meant it.

And he could feel it. Her body was honest even if her voice wasn’t.

He pulled back for just a second, nipple wet and flushed, a soft pop leaving his mouth. His lips were slick, chin glistening with the mess of it.

He looked up, breath heavy. Smirk half-there. "You taste... warm."

Then he went right back in.

He didn’t stop at just sucking. His mouth worked like it had a mind of its own — lips dragging slow, tongue swirling around her nipple in lazy, wet circles.

Every suck made her jolt, made her thighs tense tighter around his waist.

Her hands were still on his shoulders, but the grip had changed — it wasn’t pushing anymore. Just holding. Like she needed to anchor herself or she’d float away.

He dragged the suit down further with one hand — didn’t even look away from her chest while doing it. Just reached, gripped the fabric by her hip, and peeled it past her waist with one smooth pull. And with his other hand, he grabbed her free boob. The one his mouth wasn’t working on.

She gasped. Sharp. Like it shocked her. Like even though she knew what was happening, her body was still trying to keep up.

He squeezed slow — rough enough to make her squirm, but not enough to hurt. His fingers dug in, then shifted, then pinched.

Right on the nipple.

"A-ah—!!"

That noise came out too fast, too loud. She clamped her hand over her mouth like she couldn’t believe it came from her.

He laughed. Low, right against her chest. Breath heating her skin as he switched — mouth leaving one boob wet and flushed before moving to the other.

The one he just pinched.

He sucked that one even harder, lips sealing around the whole swollen peak, tongue pressing flat against it before curling, dragging up, slow, almost teasing.

Her hips bucked once.

Uncontrolled.

Her legs tried to close, but he was between them now, locked in, hips pressing forward, just enough to remind her he was still clothed — and still hard.

"You okay?" he mumbled against her skin.

She didn’t answer. Just nodded. Barely. Her lips parted, chest heaving like she was drowning in air. Her eyes were glassy — not crying, but blinking too fast, too much heat behind them.

He pulled back just enough to look at her again. His fingers still gently rubbing over the underside of her boob like he didn’t want to let go.

"You’re shaking," he whispered. "You want me to stop?"

She bit her lip. Shook her head.

No words. Just that little head shake.

"Good," he breathed. Then leaned down again — not to her chest this time, but her stomach. Her bare skin. The suit was bunched at her hips now, panties still on, but barely.

He kissed her belly. Open-mouthed, warm, tongue sliding out to taste the thin line below her navel.

Her whole body jolted.

And when she made a sound this time, it wasn’t sharp. It was soft. Broken. Almost pleading.

"Mnnh... d-don’t go lower..."

He paused. Eyes flicking up.

But his hands didn’t stop — thumbs tracing her hips, sliding over the band of her panties now, pushing gently, testing if she’d stop him.

She didn’t.

Just bit down harder on her own lip.

So he pulled. Slow. Inch by inch. Exposing more pale skin, more heat, more trembling. Her breath hitched again when the cool air kissed between her legs.

And she moaned.

Small. Helpless. Like something in her had already let go, and she didn’t know how to pull it back.

He smiled, soft but dangerous.

"You’re so warm down here," he murmured, voice thick with heat. "I haven’t even touched you properly yet..."

But he would.

And he’d take his time.