Chapter 141: Not Just Fucking, Making Love [2] [R18]

Her voice shattered into a keening shriek as the crest broke.

The climax tore through her with blinding force, sending shocks of raw pleasure rippling along her spine.

Her entire body locked rigid, toes curling, thighs trembling uncontrollably as her slick channel clamped down around him in tight, frantic spasms.

Azriel didn’t ease up.

Driven by the tightening vice of her release, he increased his tempo, hammering his hips forward with relentless, bruising power.

Each heavy impact drove straight through the epicenter of her climax, dragging out fractured, breathless wails from her throat.

The sheer friction against her sensitized nerves sent her mind reeling into a dazed, euphoric haze.

Pah! Pah! Pah!

The wet, frantic rhythm echoed off the silk-draped canopy.

For minutes, he held her pinned, taking her through wave after wave of aftershocks until his own control snapped.

A low, feral growl tore from his chest.

With a final, bone-deep drive, Azriel bottomed out against her cervix and held himself flush against her pelvis.

His entire frame seized as he erupted, painting her deep within in thick, searing pulses of hot release.

Rosalind whimpered beneath him, drinking in every pulse of his seed.

But as the heavy tremors subsided, the glazed vulnerability in her golden eyes shifted.

The ambient lunar light caught the dangerous, feline slit of her pupils.

The daze melted away, replaced by an ancient, sovereign predator’s pride.

Before Azriel could catch his breath or withdraw, Rosalind’s hands planted firmly against his chest. A sudden, authoritative surge of pure ducal aether flared from her core.

With a smooth, undeniable roll of her hips, she twisted, reversing their positions and pinning him flat against the mattress beneath her.

The bed groaned, her knees settling firmly on either side of his ribs, trapping him completely while his cock remained buried to the hilt inside her dripping heat.

Her white hair tumbled over her bare shoulders like liquid moonlight.

Looking down at him, her chest heaving, she reached out.

Her manicured fingers curled slowly around the dark slave brand etched around his neck, her nails pressing lightly into the ink.

She leaned down, her lips brushing his ear, her voice dropping into a possessive, velvet whisper that sent a shiver straight down his spine.

"And don’t forget... you belong to me. You are my man, Azriel. And I will always be your first woman."

Rosalind didn’t wait for a reply.

Arching her spine, she lifted her hips nearly off him before slamming back down with staggering, fluid speed.

She began to ride him, taking full command of the pace.

Her plush thighs squeezed his flanks as her hips rolled and bounced with fierce, predatory rhythm, setting an agonizingly tight tempo that grew faster with every second.

[LIVE CHAT]

[Sadistic69] (Red): SHE FLIPPED HIM! AHAHAHA! THE DUCHESS TOOK THE REINS! LOOK AT THAT FORM!

[Nine_Tailed_Vixen] (Cyan): Grabbing the neck and pinning him while taking him to the root?! THAT IS A TRUE MATRIARCH! SINK HIM, ROSE!

[Lusty_Sera] (Golden): Oh.... my Az is going to be sucked dry tonight....

[God_Slayer_Klara] (Red): "The way she’s bouncing on him... brutal, shameless, and completely dominant. That’s the bloodline speaking!"

[Moon_Priestess_99] (Cyan): Vesperia is definitely hearing those moans from somewhere... hehehe

[Crimson_Fury] (White): Ride that heavy beastkin cock until his eyes roll back! Show him who rules this bed! Fuck him dry, girl!

[Battle_Maiden_Vera] (White): Look at his grip, he’s not staying passive for long.

Azriel’s breath hitched at the sheer, suffocating tightness of her descent.

A wicked, hungry smirk curved his lips as he looked up at the stunning, unbridled noblewoman claiming him from above.

His large hands reached up, his fingers sinking deep into the full, soft globes of her ass, anchoring her down.

As her hips slammed downward, Azriel snapped his pelvis violently upward to meet her, the heavy, fleshy slap of their bodies meeting in the center with concussive force.

"Yeah... just like that, Rose," Azriel growled, his violet eyes flashing with raw challenge as he drove upward beneath her merciless rhythm.

"Show me why you’re my first."

The bedchamber dissolved into a furnace of kinetic force and molten silver light.

Rosalind threw her head back, her throat arching into a pale, taut curve as she set a merciless, punishing tempo.

Every descent was an absolute collision, her hips rose until the swollen head of his cock nearly breached her wet entrance, only to snap violently downward, swallowing his rigid length down to the dense thatch of his groin.

The wet, slapping cadence grew frantic, splashing the sheets with their combined slick as her inner walls gripped him like a living sheath.

Then, her golden eyes flashed with a predatory spark.

A shimmer of pure, refined ducal aether flared from her veins.

It wasn’t the freezing, lethal chill she brought to the battlefield, but a rich, swirling current of moonlight warmth.

She channeled the gossamer threads of energy straight through the slick lining of her core, wrapping his cock in a pulsating, microscopic lattice of aetheric vibrations.

The sensation was devastating.

The enchanted current brushed against every hypersensitive nerve ending along his shaft, massaging him from the inside out with a rhythmic, electrical suction that mimicked a thousand silken tongues pulling him apart.

Azriel’s jaw clenched, his knuckles turning bone-white where his hands gripped her hips.

A deep, guttural groan ripped from the base of his chest, vibrating through the mattress.

"Fuck, Rose..." His vision swam with violet sparks.

The dual onslaught of her crushing physical bounce and the humming aetheric tide drove him to the absolute brink of sanity.

"Come here."

Rosalind let out a smoky, breathy laugh that shook with pure, triumphant lust.

"Cannot take it, baby?"

She leaned forward without slowing her hips for a single heartbeat.

Her lush, sweaty body pressed flush against his chest, trapping the friction between them as she dropped down.

Her mouth crashed down onto his.

The kiss was hot, wet, and utterly disorganized, filled with the ragged gasps of their racing lungs.

She swallowed his groans as her hips continued their relentless, grinding bounce, rotating her pelvis on the downward stroke to grind her swollen clit directly against his pubic bone.

Every impact drove him to the root, sending a shuddering wave through his spine.

Azriel didn’t yield an inch.

One of his broad, calloused palms remained locked onto the heavy swell of her rear, his fingers digging into the yielding flesh, wrenching her down harder onto every upward snap of his hips.

His other hand surged upward, sliding between their sweating torsos to take total possession of her left breast.

He cupped the massive, impossibly soft globe, marveling at the heavy weight spilling between his fingers like heated silk.

As Rosalind cried out against his lips, Azriel rolled his thumb and forefinger over the flushed crest, catching the sensitive, pebble-hard nipple and pinching it with a sharp, possessive pressure.

"Mmph—! Az!"

Rosalind’s kiss broke with a high, fractured cry, her white ears pinning flat as her back bowed against his hold.

The sudden spike of pleasure between her chest and her drenched core caused her inner walls to clamp down violently around him, milking his cock with fierce, rhythmic contractions.

She didn’t pull away, she kissed against his jawline, digging her nails into his neck as she rode him faster, harder, and with a desperate, wild abandon that rattled the very foundations of the manor.

Her left hand remained clamped firmly against the nape of his neck, her manicured fingers tangled in his dark hair.

As the violet-lit crystal lamps flickered overhead, the pale glow caught the polished metal on her fourth finger.

The Ring of the Moonlit Dawn pulsed in vivid, rhythmic bursts against his skin.

The teardrop-cut violet dawn-gem flared with a blinding, celestial brilliance, its embedded life-resonance runes singing in absolute synchronization with the frantic, thundering rhythm of her chest.

It wasn’t an heirloom handed down through bloodlines or an arranged royal crest of obligation; it was a trophy forged from his blood, given purely to her.

Looking down through her half-lidded, golden gaze at the silver band encircling her finger, something wild, possessive, and untamable ignited in Rosalind’s core.

A fierce, breathless gasp tore through her parted lips, and with a sudden surge of renewed, manic energy, the Duchess stopped pacing her strength.

She slammed down onto him.

Pah! Pah! Pah!

The impacts turned brutal and concussive.

Arching her back until her spine curved like a bow, Rosalind rose high on her knees only to drive her hips downward with staggering, relentless ferocity.

She abandoned every shred of composure, taking him to the absolute hilt with each descending blow.

The bedframe shrieked beneath the punishing tempo, the heavy headboard slamming rhythmically against the cold marble wall as her plush, trembling ass crashed down against his hips with wet, concussive friction.

Her sleek white tail lashed through the heated air, seeking, striking, and finally coiling in a frantic, tight braid around his thick black tail, their fur and aether knotting together in an instinctive, feral lock.

"Mine," she choked out, her voice broken, raw, and trembling with an overwhelming tide of euphoria as she hammered herself down again and again onto his unyielding length.

"You gave me this... you’re mine, Azriel!"