Maegel was acting as a high-performance engine, his breath coming in short, hushed gasps as he followed my rhythm underneath him, his body a masterpiece of shivering muscles and cooling sweat.
"Stay," I had whispered, and like the perfect, broken soldier I'd made him, he obeyed.
He didn't growl at the encroaching footsteps. He didn't tense up in fear. He simply buried his face in the crook of my shoulder, muffling his groans against my skin as he continued to drive his cock into me with a desperate, silent fervor.
The sound of boots on the gravel was closer now. I could almost taste Julian's rage in the air, a sharp contrast to the cold, sterile vacuum of Caelum's presence.
"Lady Lyssa! Please!" Beatrice's voice was right on the other side of the greenery, dripping with that nauseating, faux-distress. "The Duke is... he's losing his patience! If you're unwell, please let us help you!"
