Page 156 of Knot Their Fated M.U.S.E

I bite my lower lip with deliberate pressure to confirm this isn't some pharmaceutical hallucination or delusion.

Teeth apply force to sensitive flesh while vision catalogs every detail of Alpha anatomy and comprehensive display. The combination of visual stimulation and mild pain creates sensory confirmation that transcends simple observation to encompass visceral recognition and validation.

The sight of his obvious arousal and impressive anatomy sends liquid fire racing through my system with intensity that threatens to overwhelm rational thought.

Fresh slick pools between my legs with mathematical precision, biology responding to Alpha display through chemical preparation and readiness that operates beyond conscious control or tactical consideration.

My pussy throbs with renewed emptiness that demands immediate attention and comprehensive fulfillment.

The visual confirmation of his capability creates anticipation that transcends simple response to encompass emotional investment and pack recognition. Not just physical compatibility but intellectual appreciation for anatomy and capability that promises satisfaction beyond normal parameters.

Sable takes advantage of my obvious distraction to shift positioning with judicial precision.

His left hand rises to cup my breast through the borrowed fabric, fingers finding my nipple with accuracy that speaks to spatial awareness and attention to detail. The contact sendselectricity racing through nerve endings already sensitized from recent climax and mounting arousal.

The gentle pressure builds systematically until sensation borders on overwhelming.

His fingers apply precise compression that transforms simple contact into focused stimulation, technique demonstrating comprehensive knowledge of female anatomy and responsiveness. Each adjustment creates pleasure that builds upon previous sensation without crossing into discomfort or overload.

When he pinches my nipple with judicial precision, the sensation explodes through my system with devastating intensity.

A moan tears from my throat without conscious direction—pure vocalization of pleasure that carries no tactical consideration or restraint. The sound emerges with authenticity that speaks to genuine response rather than performative compliance or strategic manipulation.

Sensitivity making even indirect stimulation approach overwhelming despite previous experience and adaptation.

"Oh god," I whimper as sensation cascades through interconnected systems with comprehensive coverage that transcends simple breast stimulation to encompass total engagement and designation response.

His right hand begins descent with deliberate patience that builds anticipation beyond comfortable parameters.

Fingers trailing along sensitive skin with movements that catalog nerve endings and response patterns through systematic exploration and judicial assessment. Each contact point sends heat racing through while analytical mind attempts to predict destination and intended technique.

When his touch reaches my folds, the contact triggers immediate response that defies conscious control.

Slick gathers with renewed intensity as my body recognizes proper stimulation and approach to pleasure delivery. His fingers glide through accumulated evidence of arousal with ease that speaks to generous preparation and readiness.

"I want to see how long you'll last," Sable murmurs with predatory satisfaction that suggests challenge rather than simple pleasure delivery. "I'm pretty good at making my Omega squirt for me in ten seconds."

The claim proves so audacious it triggers immediate skepticism despite his obvious capability and expertise.

"There's no way," I protest with conviction that challenges judicial assessment while acknowledging his superior experience and analytical capability.

His chuckle carries dark amusement that suggests knowledge I lack regarding female anatomy and responsiveness.

"You don't even know what I mean by squirting," he observes with accuracy that stings despite the obvious truth regarding my limited experience and education gaps.

Heat floods my cheeks as I recognize the validity of his assessment.

Theoretical knowledge proves insufficient preparation for practical application and technique that transcends basic function or designation compatibility.

"Even if I don't know the context," I argue with stubborn pride that refuses to concede defeat without resistance, "no man can please his woman in ten seconds."

The challenge emerges with more confidence than tactical wisdom might suggest appropriate given his obvious capability and expertise.

Yet something about his presumption triggers a competitive instinct that transcends rational assessment to encompass territorial pride and design dignity.

His smile develops with gradual intensity that suggests anticipation rather than offense at my tactical challenge.

"If that's true," he responds with judicial authority that transforms disagreement into formal wager with established stakes and consequences, "you better be ready to suck my cock all the way to the base."

---