It opened. I pushed into the shop, the interior lit by dreary lanterns, leaving much of the shelves, and their pots and bags, in shadows. The familiar, acrid smell of herbs assaulted my nose.I sneezed.I closed the door and pushed the hood of my cloak of my head. My hair, despite the protection of my hood, clung damp to my face. I shivered. I was soaked through by the downpour. Water dripped onto the wooden floor as I padded forward.“Hello?” the alchemist said. “Did someone walk in?”I was about to open my mouth, when a loud thumping and thudding came from outside. Metal jangled and clanked. I glanced over my shoulder at the warped, bubbled window peering out on the dark street. Torches sputtered and burned, carried in the hands of a column of armored soldiers.I frowned at that. Why were soldiers moving about on such a rainy night? Was that common in the Princedoms? I had never been to Zeutch before.“A halfling,” the alchemist said. “Why didn't you say anything?”“Sorry,” I said,. His slender hand massaged her left breast gingerly as his tongue parted her lips and danced with hers. “Please, master. I need – Oh!” Sloane’s words were silenced by his fingers slipping between her now closed thighs and parting her swollen, slippery lips with his fingertips and massaging her deprived clit with a gentle touch. His tongue left her lips with a little flick and a smile as he kissed his way down her jaw, his teeth grazing her collarbone as he came to her heaving mounds. His tongue massaged her nipple as his finger worked her tiny, untouched cave, preparing her for his girth and the sheer need that blazed between his own legs. “Sit up,” he ordered as he left her legs. Sloane whined as he teased her with the promise of the release she needed so badly. Meteior wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up with ease, as she buried her head into his tanned and muscular neck. The room spun around her as he wrapped her legs around his waist, her wet mound now pressed.
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