I meet his gaze, seeing myself reflected in those burning gold depths. "Are you going to fuck me again?"
He smiles, sweeping the hair from my eyes with fingers that tremble slightly. "This time, I'm going to make love to you."
He lays me back until my unbraided hair fans out across discarded silk and lace, my gown now nothing more than a makeshift bed of fabric scattered beneath me. His mouth descends first to my nipples, sucking each peak until they're tight and wanting, and I arch against him, my hands gripping the rumpled skirts beneath me.
"Azrath," I pant, already writhing by the time he trails lower, his tongue swirling lazy circles around my navel before dipping lower still.
The first touch of his tongue against my clit is electric—sharp, wet, and so deep I see stars. He teases me, flicking andcircling, humming against my sensitive flesh until I'm twisted in the fabric, my thighs trembling around his head.
I grip his horns, desperate and wild. "Please. Enough teasing, I need you inside me."
He rises over me, smirking, his cock slick and thick against my entrance. "Such a greedy thing."
He enters me slowly—agonizingly slow—each inch a fresh burn that blossoms into pleasure. My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper, and I gasp at the stretch, the fullness, the perfect rightness of it.
Something shifts inside me—not just physical, but deeper, like my soul's geography is being redrawn by his presence. A warmth blooms in my core, spreading tendrils of heat through my veins until my very bones feel alive with fire.
My eyes flutter closed. "Azrath..."
"I know, flower. Just take it."
His thrusts grow rougher, deeper, each plunge hitting a place inside me that makes my vision tunnel. "Move with me," he rasps, and I obey, meeting him stroke for stroke until our bodies slap together wet and frantic.
"More," I sob, clawing at his shoulders. "Fuck me harder."
He groans, driving into me with a force that steals my breath. "That's it. Take all of it. Such a good girl for me."
"You feel perfect." His voice breaks across my skin. "So tight and wet. Were you made for me?"
"Yes," I gasp, nails digging into his back.
"Good slut," he praises, biting my shoulder. "Mine."
I come screaming his name, already so sensitive.
"Awe," he says tauntingly as I tremble beneath him. "That was so good, flower, you did good. But I'm not done. I need more this time."
I try to focus my gaze, blurred with pleasure, on his face. Handsome, fierce, and with such lust-filled eyes that I feel thearousal begin all over again. My arms and legs are still tingling as I meet his stare.
"Can you take more of me?" he asks. I nod immediately, earning a sexy smirk. "Good girl."
He leans back on his haunches, gripping my hips and yanking me down the length of his cock.
My mind goes blank, a thick, syrupy haze of pleasure that only he can stir up inside me. He's relentless, his hips slamming into mine with a force that rattles me to my bones. Each impact sends jolts straight to my core, and my head lolls back against the tangle of silk.
"Look at me." His command is guttural, feral. "Look at me while I own this cunt."
My eyes snap open. His expression is stripped bare—no composure, no control, just pure possession. There's something terrifying and exquisite about seeing him like this, about knowing I drew this out of him.
He leans over me, bracing himself on his elbows, and bites down hard on my lower lip. "Say it."
The taste of copper blooms on my tongue. "Yours."
"Again."
"Yours, Azrath. My cunt belongs to you."
He laughs, dark and low, and rears back up. His hands dig bruises into my hips as he pounds into me, his pace brutal and punishing. The world narrows to this—the slick, wet sounds of our joining, the sharp slap of skin on skin, the ragged symphony of our breathing.