Ravaged on The Tower

~ANORA~

The mysterious man’s lips are sinfully soft, and the lingering taste of spiced mead on them sends a rush of liquid heat straight between my thighs. I moan into his lips, pressing my body harder into him. I’m not thinking straight at the moment. My entire mind is clouded from goblet upon goblet of mulled wine I have been gulping down since the beginning of the grand masked feast.

The pain in my heart refuses to subside, and each time I shut my eyes, I see Lindis sucking my husband’s cock. And each time that mental image flashes in my mind, my arousal surges despite myself, making me a sobbing, lusty mess.

Perhaps I am mad, or perhaps it's because sex has been all on my mind for tonight. It has been over three months since Rorik touched me. I planned to revive what used to be our sex life tonight, and one of the things I brought is delicate silk undergarments. I planned to give him the best name-day gift. In gift and in kind.

The thought of being with a mysterious man promises danger, and it ignites a furious passion in me. And I want to hurt them too. I want to hurt them back so badly. But the masked man remains still and does not attempt to kiss me back.

I feel panic and humiliation rising inside me. Does he not want me either? Perhaps I am not even attractive, and all Rorik wanted all along was my birthright. Perhaps no one finds me attractive enough to want to be with me.

As I begin to pull away, the stranger lets out a low possessive growl, grabs my wrist and slams me back into him, our lips almost touching.

“Not so fast, little bird,” he warns. “Who’s going to sate the lion you’ve just awoken?” His breath fans against my lips as he slowly guides my hand down his clothed torso until I touch the hard bulge in front of his breeches.

I let out a low gasp that barely makes it out of my lips before he slams his mouth against mine, kissing me with bruising intensity, all teeth, tongue and raw hunger that makes me weak in the knees. Our tongues entwine in a fiery dance, and I cling to him desperately, recklessly losing myself to the moment, to the sheer desire of being wanted so intensely that it borders on violence.

I am fucking starved.

The stranger kisses me more passionately than Rorik has in years, breaking away from my lips and not giving me time to think or breathe. He moves down to my throat, his body pressed against mine. I can feel every muscled inch of him, can feel his hard length pressing against my abdomen.

Fuck!

His hot breath teases me as he peppers kisses down my throat to my neck and bites into my skin, not enough to mark me, but enough to make me cry out. The painful pleasure of it is so intense that I shamelessly rub against his hard length. With a low growl that is more animal than man, he spins me around so my back is to his chest. He pins me against the stone parapet, one hand clamped around my throat with just enough pressure to make my pulse jump under his palm.

I exhale shakily, my palms flat against the cold stone, as the night wind whips my hair. His hard length presses into my arse.

“Keep grinding like that, little bird,” he murmurs, low and rough against my ear, “and I’ll fuck you right here against the parapet where the whole castle can hear you scream.”

Then, he yanks the hem of my gown up my hips in one sharp tug, fingers trailing along my inner thighs until they brush the lace of my smallclothes, and I shiver.

“Spread your legs, little bird,” he commands.

Too drunk and needy to form any coherent thoughts, I obey, stepping my legs wide apart, my thighs trembling.

“Wider.”

I open wider. His finger runs along the length of my clothed sex, teasing, but never touching my throbbing, aching wetness. I whimper and try to push back into his hand, but he tightens his hold on my throat just enough to still me.

“Stay still,” he orders, voice like gravel. “You came up here to fall, didn’t you? Instead, you’re going to come all over my fingers while the whole pack watches.”

“Shit,” I whisper, feeling pressure already building in my abdomen.

The man hooks my smallclothes aside and slides two fingers straight into my slick heat with no warning or gentleness. I gasp, knees buckling, but he holds me up with his arm around my waist and begins to pump slowly at first, letting me feel every inch of the intrusion. I moan loudly.

He growls, “Quiet.” And tightens his grip just enough to make me obey. The restraint makes me clench harder around his fingers. “Look at you, falling apart on a stranger’s fingers. Pathetic… and fucking perfect.”

I should feel shame for letting myself beg for a stranger’s touch, but just then, Rorik’s face flashes in my mind’s eye, and a sudden rage fills me; I grind back harder, chasing the pleasure to drown him out. The strange man bites the shell of my ear, then my shoulder, harder this time, his teeth scraping my skin without breaking it. Then, his hand releases my throat and at the same time slaps my arse.

“Fuck,” I breathe, tears rolling down my cheeks.

The man soothes the spot he has just slapped with a rough palm before thrusting his fingers deeper into me. “You like that, don’t you? Say it.”

I bite my lower lip as I feel myself tilting towards the edge, then his fingers pause inside me all of a sudden, making me exhale sharply and pushing back my orgasm. I try to turn to look at him, but he gently pushes my face to the front and starts to pump again. I shut my eyes and throw my head back as I come close again. But he stops again, his fingers remaining motionless. I cry out in frustration.

“Beg me,” he rasps. “Beg me to let you come.”

I bite down on my lower lip, too proud to beg. He curls his fingers again, hitting that spot that makes me cry out. I break down completely.

“Oh, goddess. Please… please let me come,” I whisper through tears and gasps.

He growls in approval, speeds up, his thumb circling my clit in tight, ruthless strokes. I come hard, my legs shaking, a low sob escaping me as pleasure crashes into me. He doesn’t let me come down; he spins me around to face him, rips off my smallclothes, and lifts me so my legs wrap around his waist. He backs me against the parapet again.

“We’re not done. Not until I’ve fucked you senseless. Is that what you want?” he asks, freeing himself, rubbing the head along my slit once, twice. “Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me!”

He thrusts in deep in one brutal stroke. I cry out as he stretches me; he swallows the sound with a bruising kiss. His thrusts aren’t gentle; they are hard and fast, each one slamming me back against the stone parapet. And gentle isn’t what I am looking for either.

My nails claw down his back as I bite his lower lip, whispering, “Harder,” through my tears.

The masked man fucks me thoroughly. Soon his strokes slow to deep, grinding rolls, making me feel every thick inch of him. His hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back, exposing my throat. He leans in and bites again while he drives into me, growling possessively.

“Mine,” he growls against my skin.

And then he comes with a deep animal groan, burying deep and holding me tight as he pulses inside me. I slump against him, spent and still trembling and quietly crying not just from pleasure, but from everything crashing down. The stranger stays inside me a little longer, breathing hard, then places a gentle kiss on my forehead before letting me down.

“Come,” he says, taking my hand. “I still need to give you the most unforgettable night of your life.” He picks up my smallclothes and mask from the stone floor and raises the smallclothes. “I’m keeping this for the rest of the night. I want you to feel my seed leak out of you and remember exactly who fucked you properly.”