Steamy Medieval Romance Novels นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Yes, but he wasn't the heat that lived under my skin. The intensity that made my knees give out and awoke my entire body...That was all Dominic. Still, Steven noticing me like that? My pussy did a little traitorous twitch... could it be that I was attracted to two men? ~~~~~ STEVEN'S POV She didn't even know what she looked like, and that was the crazy part, like fuck! Madeleine walked into the kitchen like an angel who stepped out of a lingerie commercial. Her body was a mix of hotness and that subtle innocence.

Cederick trailed his fingers, pulled his head away to breathe for a while, then spit on my pussy and thrust his fingers into me. “Ughhh… yes, Cederick… like that,” I ordered, moaning again. He swiped the saliva with his fingers, tracing to the crack of my ass. I felt him press the tip of his finger against my asshole, nudging it in gently before plunging his tongue into my pulsating pussy. I felt too sensitive, my nipples were rock hard and the veins ached, bit and rolled with such expertise that it made me realize I’d gotten drunk on their touch and would yearn for it henceforth.

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He strummed side-to-side in counterpoint to Aiden bent low, breath snarling against my neck. “Say you’re mine Summer,” he demanded, voice half-human, half-growl. “I’m yours!” l screamed as i dragged my nails l down his back drawing blood. “Lucien Aiden please, I can’t take anymore ” The orgasm crashed over me harshly, Aiden called my name, hips shaking l, and drove deep, spilling in hit jetsof slimy cum that filled my inner walls. Pulse after pulse, he filled me, claiming with his cum

“Ride me. Show me how bad you want it.” I straddled him eagerly, guiding that monster back into my soaked hole. I sank down slowly, moaning as it filled me again. Once fully seated, I started bouncing, hands on his abs for leverage. His hands grabbed my ass, guiding me, spanking occasionally. “Faster, Matilda. Fuck yourself on my cock.” I rode him wildly, tits bouncing, hair flying. Moans poured from my mouth with every drop. He thrust up to meet me, our bodies slamming together. He sat up, sucking my tits again while I ground on him, clit rubbing against his pelvis.

She gasped and moaned as her body enjoyed the blissful joy of oral sex, a practice thought sinful and deviant in her strict medieval era. Lord Jarin tasted her delight and then suckled her breasts gently as she rode her orgasm on his fingers and thumbed her clitoris. He always felt thrilled and turned on by his aberrant sexual behaviour, doing things frowned on by the norm in his strict social circles. He liked that he could practice these whims on his pretty peasant girls without consequence.

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The warmth of her skin against mine ignited a fervent desire, fueling my desire for her. Her breath quickened, matching the rhythm of my own heartbeat. With each thrust, she gasped as my hands traced the delicate arch of her back, the curve of her waist, and the contours of her hips. I explored the landscape of her body, committing it to memory with an insatiable hunger. My fingers danced along the curves of her body, tracing invisible patterns that ignited her senses. Her skin, warm and inviting, begged for my touch. I obliged, leaving a trail of fiery kisses along her neck, her collarbone, and down to the swell of her breasts.

Pre-cum glistened like mercury in the moonlight. “Open.” She did. He guided himself past her lips, slow at first, letting her adjust to the chill of his flesh, the velvet hardness. Then deeper. Her throat relaxed under that silver stare; she took him to the root, nose brushing coarse dark hair that smelled of old books and iron. “Good girl,” he purred. “Now suck.” She hollowed her cheeks, tongue swirling, hands braced on powerful thighs. He groaned, low, reverent, fingers threading into her hair. Then he tilted her head back, exposing the long column of her throat.

I climbed the stairs on trembling legs, each step sending fresh waves of searing need crashing through my body. The heat clawed at my insides like a living thing, demanding to be sated. My skin burned, slick coating my thighs with every movement, and my core throbbed painfully empty. Lorenzo’s bedroom door was ajar at the end of the hall. I pushed it open, the heavy alpha scent inside—woodsmoke, cedar, and undeniable power—hitting me like a drug. It only made the ache worse.