The crude word feels foreign on my tongue, but it's the only one I know for what I think he's suggesting.
His eyes narrow, pupils dilating as he studies my flushed face. "How do you know that word?"
"I've heard the stable boys talk." My voice comes out breathless, chest rising and falling rapidly beneath his hands. "But I've never... I don't really know what it means."
His expression softens at my innocence, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips. The sound sends warmth spiraling through my chest—rich and low, like distant thunder.
"That's one way to say it, yes." His thumb traces the curve of my lower lip with maddening slowness. "Would you like to find out what it means?"
I search his eyes, those gold flecks dancing with heat and something deeper—something that makes my pulse quicken. The question hangs there, weighted with promise and possibility. My body already knows the answer even as my mind scrambles to catch up.
I nod, the movement small but decisive.
Without warning, his fingers find my hardened nipple under the thin cotton and pinch. The sharp sensation shoots straight through me, dragging a quiet yelp from my throat. My back arches involuntarily, pressing into his touch.
"Sensitive," he murmurs with obvious satisfaction.
His hands move to the hem of my nightgown, gathering the fabric with deliberate care. I lift my arms obediently as he pulls it over my head, the cotton whispering against my skin before disappearing entirely.
The cool air hits my bare flesh, but it's nothing compared to the heat in his gaze. His eyes darken to molten gold as they drink in every curve, every freckle scattered across my shoulders. Ifight the urge to cover myself, held captive by the raw hunger written across his features.
"Beautiful," he breathes, the word carrying the weight of reverence.
His hands settle on my waist, spanning nearly its entire width. They slide upward with agonizing slowness until they cup my breasts, thumbs circling the peaked flesh. Each touch sends electricity racing beneath my skin, building something urgent and unnamed in my core.
"Azrath..." His name escapes as a plea.
One hand abandons my breast to trace the line of my jaw, his fingers brushing against my lips. They part instinctively, and he presses inside to the wet warmth of my mouth. The taste of his skin floods my senses—salt and something darker, more complex.
His other hand charts a path downward, skimming my ribs, my hip, until it settles between my legs. Two fingers circle my entrance, finding me already damp and wanting. The dual sensations overwhelm me—his fingers in my mouth while others tease below.
"That's it," he encourages as I moan around his digits. "Let me prepare you."
His fingers slide inside with careful pressure, stretching me in ways that make my head fall back against the silk pillows. The intrusion burns at first, then melts into something deeper as he works me open with patient strokes.
Through the haze of sensation, I hear the rustle of fabric. When I open my eyes, his trousers have vanished, and something thick and imposing stands proud between his legs. My breath catches at the sheer size of him—how could that possibly fit?
He settles between my thighs, his weight pressing me into the mattress. "Don't worry," he soothes, positioning himself at my entrance. "Everything will fit."
I nod, though uncertainty flickers in my chest. Then he begins to push forward, and my mouth falls open as he eases into my tight heat.
"Azrath!" The cry tears from my throat as he stretches me impossibly wide.
"Shh," he commands, voice rough with restraint. "Take it. Take all of me, flower."
The rhythm he sets is maddening—each slow thrust deeper than the last, until I'm gasping for air around the sensation. My hands scramble against his shoulders, fingers digging into the hard muscle there.
"More," I beg, the word breaking against his skin. Every nerve lights up under his attention, every thought narrowing to the place where our bodies join. "More, can you give me more?"
He smirks, grabbing my hips hard enough to bruise. "Of course, sweet girl."
And then he does. He slams into me all at once—rough and complete—and something inside of me shatters. Pleasure explodes under my skin, coursing from where he's buried inside me all the way to my fingertips. My vision goes white at the edges, stars bursting behind my eyelids.
"Holy shit!" The curse rips from me, wild and unthinking.
"That's it," he growls against my throat, the vibration resonating through my entire body. He sets a brutal pace now, each thrust as deep as that first one, each withdrawal leaving me gasping for more. "Take it, my flower."
He fucks me like he's fucking possession into my soul, each impact rocking me against the silk sheets until I'm mindless with it. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes as I writhe beneath him, my hips lifting to meet each thrust.