Not a cultivator sound.
, full, helpless, genuine sound of a woman whose body had just made a comprehensive decision without consulting anyone — and the Conception Vessel's full qi flush and the physical completion arrived as a single event, the two things indistinguishable from each other at the point of arrival, and her hips pressed back against him with , involuntary quality of a body that had no remaining interest in being controlled.
The warmth ran down through her robe.
She felt it — , warm, wet quality of completion soaking through the silk at the location his palm was pressing, spreading outward, and the sound she made at that moment was not cultivator breathing and was not a word and was very much itself, full and real and honest.
Her hands on his forearm went white-knuckled.
Her spine pressed back against his chest.
