Her teeth closed with the full, savage force of a woman who had killed goblins and orcs and men with her bare hands. She intended to sever it. She intended to tear it away. She intended to make him bleed the way her sister had bled.
Her teeth hit hardness.
Not flesh. Not meat. Something else.
Her eyes widened.
He pushed.
SKHLRK—
The head entered. Her mouth was forced to stretch around the girth. The crown pressed against her inner cheeks. Her teeth scraped the sides involuntarily. But the flesh was steel. It did not cut. It did not bruise. It simply slid deeper.
He pushed again.
Two inches. Three. Her tongue tried to push him out. The taste flooded her. It was immediate. It was total. She could taste her sister. The metallic tang of Lena's virgin blood. The thick, sour-sweet musk of her newly opened pussy. The salt of his seed. The combination was a cocktail of filth and trauma and the absolute evidence of what he had done.
She gagged.
