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The pressure building up around my balls intensifies, and some of the magic encircling my chest rushes south. I suck in a breath, feeling like I’m on the verge of exploding.
My knees buckle, and my wings slice through the air to keep my body upright.
This is the moment I fill her mouth with centuries of built-up salt.
“I’m—”
The enchantment keeping me alive tightens around my throat, cutting off my words. I might want Alienor to survive for another round of sex, but the power wants her dead.
Because as soon as she is dead, my bargain will end.
As soon as my bargain ends, the Barghest will claim my soul.
The soul of a king.
Before I can think of what it might mean to modern-day England, my mind turns numb, my spine shivers with tingles, and my body unleashes centuries of pent-up orgasms.
Every ounce of sensation exits my body through my shaft. The force is so intense that it knocks Alienor backward and renders me powerless to do anything else but endure the onslaught.
My wings thrash, filling the air with the sounds of high-pitched slashing. They’re the only thing keeping my trembling body upright.
Liquid silk gushes through my cock, instead of the usual grate of salt crystals.
The muscles of my pelvis work overtime to pump out the fluids, making the rest of my body seize into pulsating spasms. My eyes roll to the back of my head, and my chest fills with a triumphant roar.
I have never felt such intense rapture.
Somewhere on the edge of my awareness, I hear Alienor’s cries. My mind is too numb to tell if it’s out of pleasure or panic because this orgasm is all-consuming.
All my strength escapes through the climax, and it feels like Alienor is draining me of my magic. The sensations are so powerful that I don’t care if I survive this encounter. I just never want it to end.
The orgasm continues for what feels like a lifetime and doesn’t release me until all strength leaves my muscles and my limbs turn limp.
When it finally relents, I blink the blackness from my vision, my mind now fresh with newfound clarity.
The woman kneeling in front of me is not my wife.
My wife was thirty-two when we wed. This maiden looks no older than twenty-one.
I have never wanted a woman more.
She gazes up at me, her pretty lips parted with shock, and her eyes filled with horror.
“Alienor…”
My words die in the back of my throat as I realize what is wrong. A thick substance glistens over Alienor’s skin, her hair is gathered into wet clumps, and the front of her dress is soaked.
Drenched.
I take in our surroundings, my mouth falling open with a gasp.
The chamomile flowers wilt under a thick layer of pearlescent white semen, and the grass surrounding them lies smothered and submerged.
I just ejaculated a river of cum.
Flooded the entire garden with jism.
The innocent woman kneeling thighs-deep in my spunk could have drowned.
