Tianlong continued his slow circle around the veiled brides, his crimson-gold eyes gleaming with playful intent.
The air in the chamber thrummed with tension, thick with the scent of jasmine incense and the subtle musk of his wives' arousal that always seemed to bloom in his presence.
He paused behind one figure, her silhouette unmistakable even through the gossamer veil and matching red silk. Vines—emerald and alive—curled subtly behind her back, twisting like loyal serpents guarding their mistress.
Her body was a vision of fertile grace: wide hips that flared into thick, plush thighs, a narrow waist that dipped inward like an hourglass carved by nature's own hand, and an ass that swelled outward in perfect, rounded fullness—soft, motherly curves begging to be gripped, the silk clinging just enough to outline the deep cleft between those jiggling cheeks.
