Chapter 398: More like it**
An hour ago it had been a chore.
She had ridden him with a blank face and a stiff body, hips rising and falling only to finish his lust so she could be rid of him.
After all, in her eyes he was nothing more than a slightly stronger fool who got infatuated by her body much like many others.
But she was wrong...oh so wrong...
"Aaaah! It feels too fucking good! Stop and I will kill... nnnghhh!"
Luke drove into her to the root and stayed there, grinding, while his mouth closed over her nipple.
He licked it, sucked it, flicked the tight peak with his tongue until her cry broke into a wet gasp. His arm locked around her back and lifted her off the mattress.
She hung there, pinned on his cock, thighs shaking, impaled so deep she could feel him in places her mate had never reached.
Those unexplored spots lit up with every thrust. Pleasure punched through her belly, nothing like the brief, dutiful coupling she had known her whole life.
Her burning folds clung to him. Each time he pulled back they dragged along his length, slick with juices, and each time he slammed home a fresh pulse of heat spilled around him.
Luke grinned against her breast.
In the throne room she had been stone. Here she was drowning. These people fucked regularly unlike his original world. But they did not know mood. They did not know hands and mouth and the long, cruel patience of being made to wait. They did not know compatibility.
Agatha was the proof. She had been humped and filled for years and had never been touched like a woman who could come apart.
He knew what she was starving for.
Worship.
So he gave it to her with his cock buried in that scorching, dripping heat. He licked the sweat from the underside of her breast.
He sucked the small nipple until it was dark and shining. He swirled his tongue around it and felt her whole body jump on his shaft.
Her skin was an erogenous zone from throat to clit. Every lick set another fire. Every squeeze of his hand on her hip made her clench around him.
She shook in his arms, loud, wet, furious with how good it was, and he kept her lifted, teaching her body the sensation she has been unaware of.
He leaned over her and changed the pace.
Shallow now. Half out, then buried to the root again. Slow enough that she felt every ridge of him drag through the mess she had already made. Her cunt was still soaked from the climax he had forced out of her.
Each stroke pushed more of that slick out around his shaft. It ran warm down her ass and onto the sheets.
His mouth found hers.
The kiss was deep, not gentle in the way of courtesy. He sealed her lips and licked into her, tongue rolling against hers, tasting the broken sounds she kept trying to swallow.
Agatha answered with a muffled "mm... hmm..." and hooked her arms around his neck. She took the kiss the way her body had started taking his cock: open, hungry, no longer pretending this was nothing.
Their tongues moved together. Her eyes closed. For a moment her mind had no throne and no war in it, only the wet heat of his mouth and the thick slide of him between her legs.
The brutal slap of skin faded into something heavier. Bodies meeting, parting, meeting again. The bedframe creaked under the slow grind. Every creak made her clench around him without meaning to, a tight, helpless squeeze that dragged a groan out of his throat.
He put his mouth at her ear.
"Don’t hold me like that, my Queen. I might misunderstand."
Agatha felt it then. Not only her arms. Her legs had locked around his back. Her heels dug into him. She was clinging like a lover, wrapped around the human she had meant to use and kill.
Shame burned through the pleasure.
Luke felt the change in her. The way her nails bit his shoulders. The way her cunt started fluttering in those short, warning pulses.
He stopped being careful. He drove into her hard and deep, hips slapping against her soaked thighs, the wet sound back in the room, filthy again.
"Look at me," he said.
She did. Crimson eyes blown wide, mouth wet, pride cracked. A Matriarch reduced to a shaking body under a human. The hatred was still there. It only made her tighter.
He hooked an arm under her hips and yanked her onto every thrust. The angle punched that hidden place inside her. Agatha cried out and clung harder, forehead against his, breath mixing.
’I am the Dragon Matriarch. I do not break for this.’
Her body broke anyway.
The climax tore up from where he was buried in her. Her back arched. Her walls locked down on his cock in violent, rhythmic squeezes.
Slick burst out around him again, hot, running over his balls as she came with a raw, broken shout against his mouth. Her whole frame shook. Her thighs crushed his sides. She kept coming, pulse after pulse, milking him like her body had decided to keep him.
Luke groaned and followed her over.
He slammed in to the hilt and spilled inside her, thick and hot, jet after jet flooding the place she was still clenching.
She felt every pulse of it. Felt him twitch. Felt her own juices mix with his and leak out around the seal of their bodies, dripping down onto the ruined sheets.
He kept grinding through it, cock jerking, emptying himself into the Queen who had promised him death.
They stayed locked like that, shaking on top of each other, sweat-slick, mouths open, her cunt still fluttering around the cock that had just filled her.
Agatha’s arms slowly slid away...only for her to push him back on the bed.
Luke was startled but that soon changed into surprise when he saw the woman mounting him.
Eagerly placing his cock back inside her and started to fuck herself.
Luke grinned, watching her breast sway, her mouth hanging open and her moans filling the air as much as her greedy hips.
"Now, this is more like it."