His cock was a monstrous, veined thing, already weeping thick, viscous pre-cum that dripped onto her inner thigh, hot and claiming. The blunt, reddish head nudged against her soaked entrance, a brutal promise. He leaned down, his breath hot and ragged against her ear, smelling of her own arousal and raw male hunger. "Feel that, little bug?" he snarled, grinding the thick crown against her clit, making her jerk violently. "That's reality. That's your fucking owner claiming what's his. No more phantoms, no more visions. Just my cock splitting you open."
She grabbed his forearms, nails biting into corded muscle, and the sound that left her was embarrassingly close to a whine.
His red gaze swept over her face, drinking in every twitch, every flush. A smile pulled at his mouth, dangerous and adoring in equal measure. "There she is."
He didn't fuck her. He speared her.
