"You chose me," he said. "You said it. You said 'I would choose you.' Remember? In the pond. While I held you. While I fucked you. While you screamed. You chose me over her."
"I did," Lena whispered. "I did choose you. I said— I said I hate her. I said—"
"She hates you too," Raven said. "She proved it tonight. She tried to take me. She failed. Because I am yours."
He did not grab her. He did not reach for her. He simply lay there. His cock pointing upward. Twelve inches. Thick as a wrist. The head swollen and wet. The shaft ridged with veins. The balls full and heavy. It was a monument. An altar. And Lena was walking toward it.
She reached the bedroll.
She stood over him. Her legs spread. Her naked body was flushed from head to toe. Her pussy was dripping—visible, swollen, the lips dark and puffy, the clit stiff and protruding. Her thighs trembled. Her hands hung at her sides.
She knelt.
