Clothes become distractions. Words blur into sighs and low moans and the creak of the couch beneath us. The only light comes from the fire, flickering against his jaw, his collarbone, the long curve of his shoulders. My skin lights up where he touches me—my hips, my thighs, my ribs like fretboards under his callused hands.
I drag my nails down his back, and he growls like something primal. My name on his lips is both a question and an answer.
“You’re sure?” he breathes.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Don’t stop.”
His mouth finds my neck, my collarbone, my breasts. He moves slow, reverent. Like worship. His tusks graze my skin andmake me gasp. I arch into him, thighs spreading to cradle his hips.
“Kursk,” I pant. “Please…”
His hands are massive, rough, but they handle me like I’m something precious. He strokes my inner thighs, thumb grazing my pussy—slick, needy, pulsing.
“You’re soaked,” he growls. “For me.”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Only for you.”
He kneels between my legs, tongue tracing a path from my navel to the heat between my thighs. When his mouth finds my pussy, I cry out—sharp and raw. He licks me slow, deliberate, tongue thick and hot, flicking over my clit with just enough pressure to make my hips buck.
I grind into his mouth, and he holds me steady, growling against my skin.
“Gods, Olivia,” he mutters between strokes. “You taste like battle wine.”
I laugh. Then moan. My thighs tremble.
He eats me until I’m crying out his name, thighs shaking, back arched.
When I come, it’s like lightning—blinding, brutal, beautiful. He doesn’t stop. He licks me through it, drinks every drop.
Then he rises, eyes wild.
His cock—thick, dark green, ridged with veins—is already hard. Massive.
“Will I fit?” he murmurs.
“Try me,” I whisper, voice wrecked with need.
He lines himself up, the blunt head of his cock pressing into my pussy. I gasp as he pushes in, inch by thick, glorious inch. Stretching me. Filling me.
“Olivia,” he groans, voice cracking. “You feel… like fucking fire.”
My nails bite into his shoulders. “You’re so big—so fucking good—don’t stop.”
He thrusts deeper. I cry out. His hips slam into mine. I take him. All of him.
He fucks me slow. Deep. Every stroke makes my toes curl.
“You are mine,” he whispers, each thrust harder now. “Mine. Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I moan. “Fuck—Kursk—I’m yours.”
The couch creaks beneath us. The fire roars higher, like it’s feeding off us.
He kisses me. Brutal. Tender. Everything at once.
His cock pounds into me, hitting places no man ever has. I come again—screaming his name, shaking.
He follows. Roaring. His whole body trembling. He empties inside me, growling my name like a war cry.
