Chapter 397: Yield**
It was unfair.
She was the Dragon Matriarch. Three hundred soldiers answered to her. Her name was spoken with fear and respect across the domain. There were those who swore she could stand against the old gods and not break.
But right now she was a mess on a human’s bed.
Luke had taken her to the edge so many times she had lost the count. Each time the climax gathered, tight and blinding, he stole it.
Each time he left her shaking and empty. Sweat covered her from throat to thighs. Her mouth hung open. Her cunt ached, swollen and dripping, so wet the sheets under her hips were dark with it.
His legs hooked around her ankles and kept her spread.
There was no closing them.
His left hand worked her breast, rolling the small, oversensitive nipple between finger and thumb until the sting and the pleasure braided together.
His right hand was worse. Two thick fingers pumped into her without mercy, curling, dragging, pulling more slick out of her with every stroke.
*Squelch. Squelch.*
The sound was filthy. It filled the room. It filled her head.
"Nngh... ah... aah..."
Her voice had gone to pieces. Her vision too. Nothing else existed except the heat of his fingers inside her, the vulgar stretch, the way he scratched those hidden spots until her hips jerked on their own.
He teased. He fingered. He gave her clit a light, precise slap that made her whole body jump, then soothed it with his thumb until the sting turned into a throb she could not stand.
"Aah... aaaah..."
He rubbed that thumb over her clit in tight circles while his fingers stayed buried, slow and cruel, scratching her from the inside.
Her hips jerked. Her stomach clenched. Her vision went hazy. Another orgasm rose fast, bigger than the last, a white pressure behind her eyes.
But, once again, right at the brink he pulled away.
"Oh, no. Not so fast."
His hands left her.
Agatha gasped like she had been dropped from a height.
Her cunt clenched around nothing, drooling, pulsing, and furiously hungry. She lifted her hips off the bed and chased his fingers through empty air. Nothing.
He sat there with his cock hard against her, thick enough that she could feel it branding her back, and he did not give her a single inch of it.
She gritted her teeth and reached down herself. She would end this. She would rub that swollen, dripping mess until she broke, even if he watched.
"Ah—"
He caught her wrists before her fingers could touch. He pinned them away from her body, away from the place that was driving her insane.
"No good, my Queen. Someone of your stature touching herself? Disgusting."
She growled, the sound vibrating through her throat.
"Bastard... unhand me!"
She tried to tear free. Her strength was gone. The dragon in her was still there, but it had been reduced to one thought, one need, one humiliating pulse between her thighs.
Sex.
Luke held her wrists and looked at the mess he had made of her, open and shining but denied, and he smiled like a man who had all night.
Tilting his head, he looked at her the way a man looks at something already half won.
"You know the word. Spell it out and you get everything a woman could dream of."
His fingers brushed her face, light as breath. The contrast made her flinch. After all the crude handling, the gentleness felt worse.
"One word. I need to know what you want from me. Truth. Nothing else."
Agatha’s teeth clenched. Hate sat in her crimson eyes. So did need.
She was still beautiful like this, wrecked and shining with sweat, mouth wet, pride cracked open.
"What would you even achieve? If I surrender here, no one will know. I will kill you after."
Luke chuckled,
"If you are so sure, surrender already. Go on, my Queen. Tell me what you desire."
His eyes caught a faint glow. The words pressed into her, not magic exactly, more like a hand on the back of her neck.
Her body answered first. It ached. It throbbed. It demanded. Nothing in her long life had ever stripped her like this, not war, not rule, and definitely noot her mate. Pride and honor had a shell. He had broken it with his mouth and his hands and the thing he kept refusing her.
She bit her lip until it hurt. Her head dropped. The words came out almost inaudible.
"Give it to me. Make me feel like a woman. I want you inside me."
Luke hummed, pleased, and patted her head like she had done a lesson well.
"Good job, my lady."
Heat flooded her face. Shame and fury tangled. She opened her mouth to snarl at him.
He moved first.
In one shift he was over her, his body blocking the light, his weight settling between the thighs he had kept spread for so long.
The head of his cock kissed her dripping entrance and stayed there, not pushing in, just pressing, hot and thick against the place that had been empty and pulsing for what felt like hours.
Agatha’s breath shattered.
He was right there.
And he still had not given it to her.
She was on the verge of snapping when suddenly, "Aaaahng!"
He drove in to the hilt in one brutal stroke.
Agatha’s mouth opened on a sound that was not a word. Her whole body seized.
After being held at the edge so many times, the sudden stretch was too much. He filled her in a single shove, thick and hot, forcing her open around every inch until his hips slammed flush against hers.
She came on the first thrust.
It ripped through her like a seizure. Her back arched hard off the bed. Her thighs locked around him and shook.
Her cunt clamped down in violent pulses, squeezing his cock so tight he groaned through his teeth. Slick burst out around him, hot and copious, running down his shaft and dripping onto the sheets in wet threads.
Every clench pushed more of it out. The sound was filthy, a wet overflow every time her body tried to milk him.
"Aahh... nngh... Luke...!"
Her voice broke on his name. Sweat flew from her throat. Her small nipples dragged against his chest as she shook.
Her crimson eyes went unfocused, wet, furious and wrecked at once. Aftershocks kept hitting her. Her hole fluttered around the cock buried inside her, still spilling and yet trying to take more even while she drowned in the climax he had denied her for so long.
Luke stayed deep and let her break on him.
He rolled his hips once, grinding against her oversensitive clit, and another weak gush slipped out around his cock.
Agatha’s hands clawed at his back. Her breath came in broken pulls. She was still shaking, toodazed to notice how her expression had shifted drastically. A mirror alone would have broken several things inside the queen at the moment.
He lowered his mouth to her ear.
"That’s one," he murmured. "There are still many to go."
~~~
A/N:- Thanks for reading.