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I jerk. Gods, that feels so fucking good.
“Let’s see how long you can last.” He twists his fingers, finding that magic fucking spot that has me twitching with need, bringing my spent cock back to life. His thrusting fingers make my eyes cross every time they pass over that spot until I’m grunting and shoving back for more.
He takes his fingers away, just as I’m about to fucking come, and lines up his cock. There’s that delicious stretch as the head pops inside. He chuckles. It has a dark, filthy edge. I fucking love that sound. “This is going to be rough and fast,” he says. “Try not to come before I say.”
He slams in. I strain to bear his savage penetration, fingers fisting the bedding as the stretch leaves me hanging on the cusp of pleasure and pain.
“Fuck you feel good,” he says. “This tight ass was meant to take my cock. I’m going to fill you up.”
And there he fucks me, slamming into me with deep, hefty thrusts that bang the bed frame against the wall and shove my painfully swollen cock against the bed.
It’s too much. I can never get enough. As the head of his cock works over that sensitive spot with every thrust, I court madness.
I tell myself I can last. I think of dead bodies, of stock movement, of anything and everything except his cock pounding me and the white-hot bliss of being dominated, of being taken, of being ravaged, of being his.
I growl, my balls rise, my ass flutters and contracts into dark blissful waves that compel me to ejaculate all over the floor.
“Impatient bastard,” he growls before he unleashes his full force on me. Our flesh slaps together in a brutal coupling. All I can do is hold on to the bed and take every wicked stroke. I feel my ass fluttering around him, and the rush tells me he is close and tips me into yet another shattering climax as my balls reach to eject a final heady gush of cum.
He slams and holds deep, and his iron-hard dick flexes inside me as he fills me with a hot gush.
The air is filled with the sounds of ragged breathing as we both come down.
“Gods, I needed that,” he mutters.
I chuckle. “I have made a fucking mess all over the floor.”
“Stop whining,” he says. “Or I will make you lick it up.”
“Don’t,” I grunt. Is he joking? Why does his taunt make my ass clench and my spent dick jerk?
He chuckles as he pulls out. I’m not fucking ready for it, and I twitch and grunt.
“Fuck!”
He slaps my ass and staggers up. I hear him cleaning up. I think about moving. I should move…. I need to move. Sighing, I lean up. I’ve come all over the floor, the side of the bed… There is even some splattered over my pants, which are not even that close.
I glance back. His cock is clean and bobs with renewed interest as we share a look.
He grins.
“You are a savage bastard.”
He smirks and shrugs. “So I have been told.”
ChapterFour
Freya
Two weeks after I turned twenty, as we spent winter in the city, news arrived via a courier—a letter with a military seal, informing my mother and me that a husband and father was lost. A war hero, he died in battle, in lands far away.
And with that letter, everything changed.
I remember the servants bustling around and my mother holding me as we succumbed to our joint grief.
For a time, I wallowed in denial. Convinced another letter would come and tell us it was all a terrible mistake.
It wasn’t.
