Her body trembled beneath mine, adjusting to the unfamiliar fullness of my hard length, and I held myself above her with arms that threatened to shake from the exquisite torture of remaining still when everything in me wanted to thrust, to consume, to take, to possess. In all my years of conquest, both on the battlefield and in the bedchamber, I had never felt such powerful conflicting desires—to ravage and to protect, all in the same heartbeat.
Gradually, her expression softened. Her hands relaxed their death grip on my shoulders, sliding down to explore my back instead. When she shifted her hips experimentally, I groaned at the sensation.
"That's it," I breathed against her neck, my fingers finding her swollen pearl again. I circled it roughly, determined to replace any discomfort with overwhelming pleasure. "You're mine now. Do you understand?"
She gasped as I withdrew almost completely before driving back into her with a long, deliberate stroke that had her clutching at my shoulders.
"No other man will ever touch you." I thrust again, harder this time, establishing a rhythm that was both punishing and possessive. My fingers worked her hard nub mercilessly as I fucked her, watching her face transform with each stroke. "You belong to me."
"Lance!" Her walls clenched around me, and I could feel her body surrendering completely to the sensations I was creating.
I slammed into her again, increasing the pressure on her sensitive nub, and was rewarded by another gush of wetness that allowed me to push deeper still. "You're going to take every inch of me."
And suddenly, the need to own her, to make her mine, was almost overwhelming. And that was shocking because I hadnever felt this way about any woman before, and I had had more than my fair share.
Her tightness was almost going to undo me, and the wetness of her juices mixed with her blood was enough to make me spill my seed immediately. But no, I wanted to savor this. And what was more, I wanted to bring her to orgasm.
"Has another ever brought your body to completion?" Why I needed to know this, I couldn't say for certain.
"Yes." A flush spread across her cheeks.
"How did you keep him from—"
She shook her head, interrupting me. "No… it was… a woman."
At that, I thrust inside her even harder, the image of another woman touching her almost too much to bear. "Show me how she touched you. Touch yourself like she did while my cock is inside you."
Her hand trembled as it moved between our bodies, finding that sensitive bud. I watched, transfixed, as she began to circle it with hesitant fingers. The sight of her pleasuring herself while my cock stretched her virgin passage was almost more than I could handle, and I had to fight to keep from filling her with my seed.
"Did you like it when she touched you?"
"Yes."
"Tell me what she did to you."
Her inner walls tightened around me as her pleasure built, the sensation nearly driving me mad. I'd bedded countless women, yet nothing had prepared me for this—for her. The connection between us transcended mere physical pleasure, reaching something deeper that I couldn't name.
When her release finally came, it was with a silent cry, her body tensing beneath mine as waves of pleasure washed over her. The pulsing of her inner walls around my cock triggered myown climax, and I slammed myself as deeply as I could go in her virgin cunt, spilling myself deep inside her, my entire body shuddering with the force of it.
In that moment, nothing existed beyond this room, this bed, this woman. Not Arthur, not Camelot, and definitely not the tangled web of loyalty and betrayal that awaited us come morning.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
-LANCE-
Wrapped in Guinevere's embrace, I found the answer I'd refused to acknowledge—that the bond I'd sensed with Lioran had never been false.
It had always been real.
Achingly, undeniably real. It transcended disguise, deception, and expectation. Every touch, every breath between us felt like a revelation—less like indulgence and more like inevitability.
This transcended mere longing, though passion had undoubtedly brought us to this moment. But no, this was more: it was acknowledgment. Wholeness. The sudden, staggering realization that what I’d been searching for had been beside me all along, hidden behind armor and a false name.
But reality crept in like a cold wind under the door, pressing at the edges of the fragile sanctuary we’d made of this moment. I sat up slowly, dragging a hand through my disheveled hair, the weight of what we’d done settling across my shoulders like iron mail.
I had betrayed Arthur.
Not just in sexual acts—but in loyalty, in purpose. I'd concealed her identity, withheld truth from my king, and lain with the very woman he sought with single-minded obsession. I'd broken every oath I'd sworn the day I knelt and offered my sword to Camelot.
