Chapter 72
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But the scent of her, striking not his nose but his very brain, and the sensation of her walls—somehow softer, more slippery than the night before—banished any such disappointment to the farthest reaches of his mind. Moreover, where yesterday her passage had remained stiff and unyielding, tonight it moved with an eager, writhing hunger, chewing and suckling at his length.
“Hahh! Hnngh!”
Deeper. Just a little deeper. Though there was no space left between their joined bodies, Caligo longed to push further into her. He ground his lower body against her with such force that his tightened sac pressed flush against her flesh, as though he might bury even that within her. Fiona’s stifled cry rose to a shrill pitch.
Only then did Caligo realise he had been crushing her with his massive weight. He pulled back slightly, suddenly mindful. In his excitement, he had momentarily forgotten Jayden’s warning.
His heart ached at the sight of her slender form trembling beneath him. Last night, too, she had seemed so pained, so distressed, that he had wished to stop many times. But according to her, this joining was a duty that must be fulfilled.
‘Because we are husband and wife. It must be done. It is something only husband and wife may do.’
Her words, etched into his heart like a brand, filled him with both sorrow and willingness. Joy that he need not cease this ecstatic act, and the bitter awareness that he was a wretched creature for feeling such joy.
And so, he wished to end this time as swiftly as possible, as Jayden had advised. With the single-minded desire to spare Fiona further difficulty, he thrust into her with a steady, pounding rhythm—a simple enough matter for him.
The supple curve of her bent waist dazzled his eyes. And with it, another urge tormented him. He longed to feel not only their tightly locked union, but her soft, pale form beneath his fingertips as well.
Yet touching her body was another matter, strictly forbidden. As was the urge to lap with his tongue at the nape of her neck, helplessly exposed beneath her hair, or to sink his teeth into it.
She would surely dislike it. And without doubt, it would cause her pain. His fingertips and tongue, maddeningly eager to touch her, tingled and ached with longing. But Caligo barely contained the urge, clutching instead at the innocent scrap of fabric and inhaling her scent once more.
At the same time, he devoted himself entirely to the one part of her he was permitted to feel—thrusting, rubbing, grinding without cease. Driven solely by the determination to finish swiftly, he worked his hips, and release came quickly.
The sensation of her warm, elastic walls clinging to his entire length brought him to the brink of eruption, a pleasure he had not even known existed until recently saturating his incomplete mind. The urethral opening, pushed to its limit, pulsed and dilated in preparation for release.
“Uhnngh! Hahh!”
Beneath him, enduring the full force of his rough movements, Fiona too was approaching her limit. With each thrust, she hovered on the knife’s edge between agony and a tingling pleasure that radiated through her limbs.
His massive member, pounding into her nethers as they melted like warm, yielding cream, now felt welcome rather than fearsome. Its absurd girth and length, without any particular skill on his part, pressed against every wall of her passage, leaving her senseless and slack-jawed with sensation.
Far more moisture than when she had touched herself earlier gushed forth, soaking their union as though a subterranean spring had burst.
“Uunngh! Uhnn! Ah! Hnngh!”
Unlike the previous night, when difficulty and overwhelm had dominated, the fierce waves of pleasure now crashing through her were deeply disorienting. Perhaps it was because she had warmed herself beforehand. Her inner walls, far more sensitive than usual, twitched and responded to each of his thrusts.
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