I slid two fingers inside her and she arched completely off the mattress, a sharp cry escaping before she could swallow it. Her pathways flared bright enough to cast red shadows across the white sheets. Heat radiated off her skin in waves that made the air shimmer.
I worked her with the same attention I'd given her last night, watching how her face changed when I curled my fingers or adjusted the angle or pressed my thumb against her clit. She tried to maintain some composure, some clinical observation about energy transfer rates or neural response patterns.
It lasted maybe thirty seconds before she gave up and just moaned.
The drain widened automatically. Her Essentia poured into me faster, pulled by the feedback loop between us. I could taste her pleasure mixing with my own, the circuit amplifying everything until I couldn't tell which sensations belonged to who.
