Her fingers went to her shoulders, slipping the wide neckline of her gown free. The fabric fell without resistance, sliding down her delicate frame like a silken waterfall. It pooled at her feet with a whisper, revealing skin so pale it glowed in the candlelight.
Ashara stepped out of the puddled silk—bare, quiet, and regal even in her nakedness.
She was flawless. The kind of beauty spoken of in songs. A noblewoman's poise with a courtesan's figure. Her breasts were modest but high, perfectly shaped, tipped with dusky pink. Her stomach was flat with the faintest feminine softness, leading down to sleek hips and thighs that curved just right. Her skin was moon-pale and velvet-smooth, unmarred, untouched by any life of hardship.
The flickering candlelight danced lovingly over her figure, casting soft shadows beneath her breasts, down the line of her ribs, across the swell of her hips. She looked like a painting come to life, one meant for sin, not art.
She walked toward him. Her bare feet padded silently over the stone until she stood between his massive legs.
Wylis, seated at the edge of the bed, looked like something carved from black iron and battle scars. The size difference was obscene. Her bosom barely reached his neck, and still she hadn't straddled him.
Instead, she leaned in. Her delicate hands cradled his face, tilting his gaze up toward her, and then she kissed him.
Soft. Lingering. Her lips, like wine-soaked velvet, pressed gently against his. No haste. No demand. Just heat.
Her tongue slipped into his mouth with a slow rhythm, like she wanted to savor his taste one last time, memorize it. The kiss was liquid fire, both tender and erotic, her breath warming his cheek as she let out a quiet, aching hum.
"Mmm…"
The sound lit him up. His hands moved without thought, landing on her bare waist. Her skin was warm, impossibly soft, and every breath she took made her ribcage rise beneath his palms. She felt delicate in his grasp, but not fragile.
No, her body was lean, womanly, perfect. She was made to be held, worshiped, fucked.
"Ashara… do you really want this?"
She nodded. Her lips hovered a breath above his, her eyes glowing like storm clouds.
"Let me hold onto this memory forever."
Wylis swallowed hard. Then he nodded.
He leaned back slightly and shoved his breeches down, pushing them past his thighs until they hit the floor. He kicked them off, revealing every inch of himself. Except for a few bandages crisscrossing a scarred thigh and part of his shoulder, he was fully, gloriously nude. And already fully hard.
His cock jutted out like something born for battle; girthy, veined, flushed dark with blood. It pulsed with hunger. The foreskin tugged back just enough to expose the swollen tip, already glistening. He was massive. A weapon of pleasure and destruction.
Ashara didn't flinch.
Wylis reached for her, pulled her gently into his arms, and turned her around so her back pressed to his chest. "Just like before, then…"
That was how they had first done it. Not quite entering her, but just sliding between her thighs while she lay prone. Although the time they actually did it, he did spill inside her. Yet, somehow, his seed never took root. Fate, perhaps.
His one massive hand slid across the silk-soft skin of her belly, while the other moved up, cupping one perfect breast in his palm.
"Ah.." She let out a soft gasp as he squeezed, thumb brushing her nipple.
His cock nestled in the burning valley between her thighs, sliding against her slit like iron through butter. Her skin felt molten. The dampness of her pussy soaked his shaft almost instantly as he slid in slowly between her legs, not quite inside, but pressing against her lips, teasing her clit, dragging along the velvet seam of her sex.
Ashara quivered, and a whispered moan escaped her lips. "Ummmmmh…"
His cockhead brushed her folds again, sticky and wet. She stayed there, leaning back into him, her body trembling slightly as her hips started to move. Back and forth. Slow, fluid strokes. His cock slid through her thigh gap, gliding between her silky legs while the tip teased her slit and swollen little nub of love with every pass.
He was so big even when seated. She felt wrapped with his arms around her, and his girthy shaft soaked her slit more and more with each scrub.
She turned her head and captured his lips in a sideways kiss, soft, desperate. Her lips clung to his, moving in tandem with her hips. Her thighs clenched tighter, giving his cock a delicious squeeze each time she rocked back. It was a tease so erotic, so painfully slow, that it felt more intimate.
Wylis kissed her back, his mouth trailing downward; her cheek, her jaw, her neck. He worshiped every inch of her. His tongue traced her shoulder, then lower, kissing her back like a man starved. She was hot, her noble body unblemished, that he'd dishonored, claimed. Her flesh was satin, her scent delicate but maddening.
Her hips moved around his cock, and the feeling of those pillowy thighs stroking him while her soaked pussy lips rubbed his tip raw, was pure agony.
"Mmm…" Ashara stopped abruptly and stood up straight. "I want to remember this… I want to feel you... one last time... Wylis... will you?"
Her marshmallowy thighs slipped away from his cock, leaving it glistening with her slick. She turned without waiting for an answer, though she already knew he would give it, and climbed onto the bed.
The noble lady moved with grace, but the hunger in her limbs betrayed her. She leaned back against the pillows, her violet eyes never leaving him as she slid her slender frame down, reclining fully, her back arching ever so slightly to settle into the mattress. Then, shyly, achingly slowly, Ashara spread her legs.
An invitation no man could refuse.
Wylis crawled toward her like some colossal beast stalking its fragile prey. Huge, muscle-hewn, his cock heavy and swaying between his thighs. He moved with a controlled hunger as he loomed over her. He reached for her feet first and bent to kiss her toes reverently. His mouth moved up her calves, her knees, her thighs, each kiss a brand of heat pressed into that pristine skin.
Then, with a low growl of pleasure, he dipped between her legs and dragged his large tongue up her cunt.
One long, broad stroke that made her shiver uncontrollably.
Ashara gasped, thighs twitching as he tasted her. Her folds were slick and flushed, glistening with her own arousal. She trembled helplessly under him, fingers bunching the sheets, her entire body reacting with thirst.
He kissed her belly next, then her ribs, her breasts. Pressing his lips around one soft swell, suckling her nipple until it tightened against his tongue. Going up, he loomed over her like a canopy, doing a push-up to keep his crushing weight off her. But the heat of him, the strength of him, surrounded her.
His mouth claimed hers again, this kiss messier, wetter, their tongues curling with aching want.
Then, he wrapped one thick arm around her slim waist and rolled.
"Ohhh!"
Ashara gasped as she was pulled with him, their bodies shifting. Now she straddled him on top, hair falling in dark waves around her flushed face, her knees planted wide on the mattress.
"Do it at your own pace, Ashara. I'd rather not hurt you and make this memory a painful one."
Although it might already be.
Until now, every woman he'd slept with, he wanted to breed, claim them eventually. But Ashara, he didn't want her to suffer through his selfishness. Yet, he wanted to taste her, her beauty; she was simply too alluring for him to refuse.
He looked up at her, drinking in the sight. Her skin was pale, gods, so pale—like milk in moonlight. The contrast of her raven-dark hair only made her features sharper, more ethereal. Her waist was narrow, her hips elegant and womanly, her long legs wrapped around his thick torso as if she were trying to tame something far beyond her.
And she tried.
Ashara reached down and nestled his cock between her folds, pressing her pussy against the thick shaft, not yet taking him, only rubbing along his length.
Then, she lifted her hips.
High. Higher than seemed possible. Her small hands braced against his chest as she aimed the head of his fat cock toward her soaked entrance. She paused, breath held, then came down.
"Ahh…!" It was too much. The crown alone stretched her petals open until her pussy ached, the massive girth prying her apart with a slow, merciless drag.
Ashara's mouth dropped open in a silent, choked scream. Her eyes watered. Her body clenched.
He had been her first; he could see the way her body remembered him, parted for him, like a stubborn gate that only opened to one key.
It wasn't just that he was large, he was inhuman. He didn't enter her; he invaded her. Her slick cunt was stretched wide, splayed around the iron girth of him. It felt like her body was being unstitched. Skewered. Ruined.
But she didn't stop.
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