FREE USE in Primitive World

Chapter 321: Chapter 321: Morning Passion

Sensing that she couldn’t change his mind, kira didn’t fight the surrender. She arched her back, her pussy already weeping a fresh, thick trail of lubricant as she felt the broad head of his cock knocking against her entrance.

“Sol… please…” she sobbed into the kiss.

He didn’t make her wait. He gripped her hips, his fingers sinking into the firm muscle, and drove into her with a single, deep thrust.

Kira’s head snapped back against the furs, her eyes rolling into her skull as she was impaled to the root of her being. The sensation of him… thick, hot, and seemingly twice as large as the night before…. was almost too much to bear. Her internal walls clenched around him in a series of frantic, milking spasms, her body trying to absorb the sheer volume of him.

“See?” Sol grunted, his hips moving in a slow grind that prioritized depth over speed. “Today is different.”

Soon, the room was silent except for the rhythmic, wet slap of skin on skin and the gasps of two people who had decided that the end of the world was a distant second to the heat of the present moment.

He watched her face as he hammered into her. He watched the way her feline eyes rolled back, the way her lips parted to let out those raw, guttural barks of ecstasy she had tried so hard to suppress. He saw every bruise he had made, every mark of his teeth, and it only fueled the fire in his blood.

“You’re… you’re a monster,” Kira managed to choke out, her fingers tangling in the furs, her knuckles white. “You’re not… human.”

“I’m whatever you need me to be, Kira,” Sol growled, his thrusts becoming longer, harder, and more relentless.

He shifted his grip, pulling her legs up over his shoulders to open her even further. The angle was predatory, allowing him to reach the absolute depth of her, his cock battering against the gateway of her womb with a dull, heavy thud that resonated through both of them.

He wasn’t just fucking her, he was reclaiming her. He was erasing the scars of the razor-beasts and the rot-hounds with the branding heat of his own body.

Kira didn’t just take it. She met him strike for strike, her internal muscles… those seasoned, powerful hunter’s muscles… clamping down on him with a rhythmic, milking strength. She bucked her hips upward, her heels drumming against the small of his back, her whole body vibrating with a fine, electric tremor.

“That’s it,” Sol hissed, his breath hot against her ear. “Fight back. Show me that warrior’s stamina.”

The morning stretched on, the slate-gray light turning to a pale, watery gold as the sun climbed higher over the canopy of the Great Orrath. They moved through positions with a fluid, practiced ease, their bodies already knowing the geography of each other’s pleasure. From the furs to the floorboards, and eventually back to the bed, they turned the room into a battlefield of meat and heat.

Sol carried a flame that did not rest. He explored the curve of her waist, the dip of her spine, and the sensitive hollows of her armpits.

He licked the salt from her skin, drinking her in as if she were the only water in the desert, his mouth a hot brand that followed the map of her scars.

Kira stayed as a living instrument, her being strung with the raw chords of the world. She had given up on any resistance. She wailed, she hissed, and she laughed… a bright, feral sound that mixed with the wet slap of their union. She was losing herself in him, letting his weight inside, a world that was otherwise falling apart.

By the time the final crescendo approached, the room was thick with the scent of sex and musk. Sol felt the pressure in his gut reaching a breaking point, a tidal wave of seed and power that was finally ready to break. He didn’t hold back. He drove himself into her one last time, pinning her to the furs with his entire weight, and released.

A hot, thick, and endless tide of his release, starting pumping into the very depths of her pussy. Kira couldn’t endure the overload. She shrieked, her entire body going rigid as she also exploded in a series of violent, uncontrollable spasms. Her internal muscles clenched on him like a pulsing trap, holding him deep inside her as the world finally, mercifully, went white.

Slowly, the eruption came to a halt. The fire in Sol’s veins began to settle into a heavy, humid peace. He collapsed forward, his sweat-slicked chest heavy against hers, their hearts beating a frantic, synchronized rhythm.

They stayed joined for a long time, enjoying the lingering, pulsing connection for a few more heartbeats. The silence of the morning returning to claim the room, the only sound the broken, exhausted struggle for air.

Sol stayed buried inside her. His head resting in the crook of her neck. He kissed the side of her neck one last time before finally rolling off her.

He felt her hands wander lazily up his back, her touch light and adoring, her fingers tracing the lines of his own scars.

The war was still coming. The Zerith-Maurdurer were still marching. The Veynar was maybe doomed. But as the sun finally broke through the shutters, illuminating the beautiful, ruined mess they had made of each other, Sol knew that they weren’t going into the dark alone.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his silver-crimson eyes meeting her stormy blue ones. Kira smiled…. a fierce, satisfied, and entirely warrior-like expression.

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice a ragged thread. “Now I’m definitely going to need another wash.”

Sol let out a low chuckle, leaned down and kissed her forehead, then her nose, then her lips and pulled her back into a crushing, protective hug. “I’ll help you with that. But don’t expect it to be a quick one.”

Kira’s smile softened, her eyes shimmering beautifully in the sunlight. She didn’t say anything, but she hugged his body back with a strength that spoke of her absolute trust.