Page 95 of Ruthless Knight

I don’t know what the hell time it is, but it’s still dark outside. As long as I have the cover of darkness, it means I don’t have to think about anything else besides her.

As her fuckable breasts with dusky-pink nipples bounce before my face, I

know I’ll come to suffer for this like a lost fool, but I couldn’t possibly entertain the idea of stopping yet.

So, I choose this.

I choose my pleasure, my poison, my downfall.

Voracious lust is calling the shots again, and all I can see are the colors of arousal and my power to keep her with me.

Every time I take her, I get to a point where I hate to love the potent surge of pleasure she gives me, and I almost feel she needs to suffer for it.

Suffer for making me feel things I haven’t felt in forever.

Suffer for the elation that fucking her brings me.

Suffer for being the first woman to sleep in this bed.

Aurora Wright has staked a claim on the dark soul lurking beneath my skin, and I can’t shift it.

Because I don’t want to.

Cupping her ass, I take back some of the control and grind into her.

She arches her back and moans hum from her entire body like the perfect chorus of angels.

“Knight!” she screams my name for the first time tonight. It’s a glorious sound.

“Scream my name again.” My demand is harsh yet desperate. I want to hear her again so I can commit the sound to memory the way a blind person would by touching a face.

“Knight! Knight! Knight!” She moans out, and I soak it all up.

Jesus Christ. I can’t get enough of this.

Consumed by greed to take more of her, I grab her waist and power up into her body like I’ve lost my shit, then I pick her off me and flip her so she’s on her hands and knees.

I settle behind her and plunge back in, shattering my last shred of control as I tighten my grip on her waist and fuck her like I never have before.

Nothing has ever felt so good in my life as her or this moment.

The walls of her pussy contract and expand, exploding around my length.

That happens several times before my own climax slams me outside of reality and I finally erupt inside her, filling her with my cum.

We both collapse into a sticky heap, her lithe, limp body pressed against mine.

Sliding out of her, I pull her close and turn her to face me so I can look at her.

Her eyes meet mine, and we kiss like it’s habit.

She runs her fingers along my jaw, feeling the scruff of my beard, then continues down, down, down to my chest and flutters over the line of Japanese characters tattooed on my abs.

I wonder if she can feel the scar beneath. The deepest one.

Maybe it’s been so long that it can’t be felt anymore. It was already fading when I decided to cover it up with art.

Some people keep theirs to remember what they did. I covered mine to forget, but at least I did it with a Samurai death poem about honor.

---