The table was set for two; a place setting at the end closest to the window in front of a large ornately carved arm chair and a setting several chairs...down on the right. The room was decorated with portraits and murals, as well as suits of armor. Standing in front of the windows with his back to Karith, arms folded behind him was a man, who she assumed was the lord of the keep. The man turned toward her but kept his hands behind him as he slowly approached the table, moving as if he glided. “Mmhmm,” I reply in agreement. His body leans forward and I hear him close to my ear. “You’re wet for me?” he asks. I nod my head, the side of my face against the counter. "Say it." "I'm wet for you," I moan, and in the same breath, he’s shoved himself so far inside me I cry out in pain. “Fuck!” That’s tender. I hear him struggling for breath, then he pulls back slowly, and pushes harshly inside. I cry out again. Though it hurts, he’s hitting the spot I have so desperately been craving. I. More

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