Veil of Eternal Desire

Anara was waiting in the hallway when Ronan finally stepped out. Her teal hair was loose, her leather outfit already partially unlaced in anticipation. The moment the door closed behind him she dropped to her knees.

“Master,” she said, voice low and hungry. “Do not leave without reminding me who I belong to.”

Ronan’s expression darkened with approval. He pulled her into the nearest empty guest room and shut the door hard. There was no tenderness this time. He pushed her against the wall, yanked her leather skirt up, and took her from behind with deep, claiming thrusts. Anara braced her hands on the wood and pushed back to meet every stroke, moaning freely.

“You will run both taverns in my absence,” he growled against her ear. “You will keep Brigid safe. You will remain wet and ready for my return. Say it.”

“I will run everything,” Anara gasped. “I will protect your wife and son. I will stay aching for you, Master. Only you.”

He fucked her harder, one hand wrapped around her throat just tightly enough to make her tremble with pleasure. When he ordered her to come she shattered with a broken cry, her body clenching around him. Ronan pulled out and finished across the small of her back, marking her. He turned her around, made her clean him with her mouth, then kissed her once, hard and possessive.

“Do not disappoint me.”

“Never,” she whispered, eyes glassy with submission and need.

The door of the guest room slammed shut with enough force to rattle the frame. Ronan had Anara by the wrist, dragging her inside without a word. The moment the latch clicked he spun her and shoved her face-first against the rough plaster wall. Her hands splayed flat on either side of her head. The leather skirt was already half unlaced. He finished the job with one hard yank, the material tearing slightly as he forced it up over her hips. The thin undergarment beneath offered no resistance. He ripped it aside and found her already slick and open.

There was no preparation beyond the single rough stroke of his fingers confirming her readiness. He freed his cock, already hard from the charged farewell with Brigid and the sight of Anara on her knees, and drove into her in one deep, claiming thrust that buried him to the hilt. Anara’s cry was sharp and open. Her forehead pressed to the wall as her body adjusted to the sudden, complete fullness.

Ronan did not give her time to settle. He gripped her hips hard enough to bruise and began fucking her with short, powerful strokes that slammed her against the wall with every impact. The wet sound of their joining filled the small room. Anara braced herself and pushed back to meet each thrust, her teal hair falling forward around her face. Soft, hungry moans spilled from her throat between the harder cries forced out by the depth of his strokes.

“You will run both taverns in my absence,” he growled against her ear, his voice low and rough. “You will keep Brigid safe. You will remain wet and ready for my return. Say it.”

“I will run everything,” Anara gasped, the words broken by the force of his next thrust. “I will protect your wife and son. I will stay aching for you, Master. Only you.”

He rewarded the obedience by fucking her harder. One hand left her hip and wrapped around her throat, the pressure firm enough to make her breath catch and her pulse race under his fingers. He did not cut off her air completely, only restricted it enough that every moan came out tighter and more desperate. Anara’s body responded at once. Her inner walls clenched around him in rhythmic pulses. Her full breasts, still contained by the partially unlaced leather top, bounced hard against the wall with every impact.

Ronan leaned in closer, his chest pressed to her back, and bit the side of her neck just hard enough to leave a mark. “Louder. I want to hear how much you need this before I leave.”

Anara’s voice rose. “I need it. I need you to use me. Remind me who owns me before you go.”

He released her throat only long enough to shove the leather top down, freeing her breasts so they hung heavy and bare. His hand returned to her throat while the other reached around to squeeze one breast hard, fingers digging into the soft flesh. He pinched the nipple and twisted just enough to make her cry out. Milk was not flowing the way it did with Brigid, yet the rough handling still drew sharp, broken sounds of pleasure from her.

The pace remained relentless. Each thrust drove deep, the head of his cock pressing hard against the furthest point inside her. The wet slap of skin on skin grew louder. Anara’s legs began to tremble. Ronan felt the first flutter of her approaching climax and tightened his grip on her throat a fraction more.

“Come,” he ordered. “Now.”

Anara shattered with a broken cry that was half moan and half sob. Her body clamped down on him in strong, rhythmic spasms, her juices running down her thighs and coating his cock. He fucked her straight through the orgasm without slowing, forcing the contractions to stretch longer until her voice turned hoarse and her forehead stayed pressed to the wall.

When the strongest waves faded, he pulled out abruptly. Anara made a sound of protest that turned into a gasp when he spun her around and shoved her to her knees on the wooden floor. His cock, still slick with her release, stood hard and glistening in front of her face.

“Clean it,” he said.

Anara opened her mouth at once and took him deep. She sucked with eager, messy hunger, tongue working along the underside while her hands braced on his thighs. Ronan fisted a hand in her teal hair and controlled the depth, thrusting into her mouth with the same rough rhythm he had used on her body. Spit ran down her chin. Soft choking sounds escaped her each time he pressed deeper. She took it without resistance, eyes watering, blue gaze locked upward in open submission.

He pulled free before he finished and hauled her back to her feet. He bent her over the edge of the narrow guest bed, one hand between her shoulder blades pinning her down, and entered her again from behind in a single hard thrust. This angle let him go even deeper. He fucked her with long, punishing strokes that made the bedframe creak. One hand cracked across her ass, the sharp sound ringing out, then again, leaving the skin pink. Anara pushed back to meet every thrust, her moans muffled against the bedding.

“You will hold everything together,” he said, the words timed to the hard rhythm of his hips. “Both taverns. My wife. My son. And when I return you will be exactly as you are now. Wet. Open. Ready to be used.”

“Yes, Master,” she gasped. “I will. I swear it.”

He reached under her, found her clit, and rubbed it in rough circles while he continued the deep strokes. Anara’s second climax hit harder than the first. Her body locked tight around him and a raw cry tore from her throat. The strong contractions finally pulled him over the edge. He pulled out at the last moment, stroked himself twice, and finished across the small of her back and the upper curves of her ass in thick, visible ropes, marking her deliberately.

Anara remained bent over the bed, breathing hard, the evidence of his release warm on her skin. Ronan turned her around, sat on the edge of the mattress, and pulled her down between his knees. He guided her mouth back to his cock, still half-hard and smeared with their combined fluids.

“Finish cleaning me.”

She did, licking and sucking with thorough, devoted care until every trace was gone. Only then did he lift her face and kiss her once, hard and possessive, tasting himself on her tongue. His hand remained fisted in her hair, holding her in place for a long moment before he released her.

“Do not disappoint me.”

“Never,” she whispered, eyes glassy with submission and need. Her lips were swollen, her neck marked, her ass pink from his hand, and the cooling evidence of his release still painted across her lower back. She stayed on her knees until he stood and adjusted his clothes.

Ronan looked down at her one last time. The victory of the morning, the farewell with Brigid, and the rough claiming of Anara all settled into a single hard certainty. The capital waited. The escort was ready. Everything behind him was secured by the women who belonged to him.

He left the guest room without another word. Anara remained where she was for several long breaths, the ache between her legs and the marks on her skin serving as the reminder she had asked for. When she finally rose and restored her clothing as best she could, the leather still torn in places and the scent of him still on her, she stepped back into the hallway ready to hold both taverns and the family until his return.

End of Chapter 69