His cock was hard against her dress.
The thick, long, impossible ridge of it pressed against her lower belly. She felt it through his clothes. Through her skirt. It was hot. It was heavy. It was wrong.
"What are you doing?" she whispered.
"I want to fuck you," he said.
His voice was plain. Casual. The voice of a man ordering a meal. He ground his hips against her. The cock dragged against her stomach. She felt the length of it. The weight.
"Whenever I want," he continued. "Until I am in this village. You will spread your legs. You will open your mouth. You will take my cock. That is your service."
"But—" Her voice cracked. "No. You are too... like them. You are—"
She was not believing it. Her eyes were wide. How could a man this handsome say such things? How could a face so beautiful speak like a beast? He looked like a prince. He spoke like a ravager.
He laughed.
