The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 345: Matriarch of the blue rose -2 (18+)

It was deeper than before, harder, a reclaiming.

AHH!!!

She cried out, a sharp, guttural sound that was swallowed by the forest.

He didn’t pause, didn’t give her a moment to adjust.

He set a pace that was downright savage, each powerful drive of his hips slamming her body into the unyielding tree with enough force to make her teeth rattle.

The world narrowed to the point where their bodies met.

The slick, wet sound of his penetration.

The raw scrape of bark against her silk-clad chest and cheek.

The incredible, overwhelming fullness as he stretched her, claiming every inch. His grip on her hips was iron, his fingers sure to leave bruises—marks of ownership she would secretly treasure.

"Is this what you want?" he grunted, his voice strained with the effort of his pounding rhythm. "This? The feel of a beast?"

"More," she begged, the word tearing from her throat.

"Harder, Jolthar! Show me your strength!"

It was a challenge he was born to answer.

A guttural roar ripped from his chest, and he let go of any pretense of control.

He fucked her with a raw, primal intensity that was terrifying and exquisite. His thrusts became monumental, each one a deliberate, powerful act of conquest.

The ancient oak, which had stood for centuries, began to shudder with the force of their union.

A low, groaning creak echoed his own groans.

Raayani’s mind shattered.

There was no thought, only sensation.

The burning friction.

The delicious ache of being so utterly filled.

The dizzying impact that rocked her very core. Her hands scrambled for purchase on the bark as her legs trembled, threatening to give way, but he held her up, his strength infinite.

"Come for me," he commanded, his voice a dark prayer against her sweat-slicked skin.

"Now."

Her climax wasn’t a wave; it was an quake.

It tore through her with a violence that ripped a scream from her very soul. Her inner muscles clenched around him in frantic, rhythmic pulses, milking his length, pulling him deeper than she thought possible. She saw stars behind her eyelids, her body bowing against his as pure, undiluted ecstasy rendered her mind blank.

Feeling her convulse around him, Jolthar lost the last vestige of his own control.

With a final, ground-shattering roar, he plunged into her one last time, burying himself to the hilt. She felt the hot, pulsing rush of his release, a flood of warmth that triggered another, deeper aftershock that left her sobbing his name.

The force of his final thrust, combined with the shuddering of her own body, was too much for the already straining oak.

With a sound like thunder, the great tree’s roots tore free from the soft, mossy ground.

It swayed for a heart-stopping moment before crashing down beside them, a fallen giant.

In the sudden, ringing silence that followed, the only sound was their ragged, gasping breaths. Dust and leaves settled around them.

Jolthar, still buried deep inside her, held her upright, his chest heaving against her back. He slowly, carefully, pulled out, his sperm trailing down her trembling thighs.

He turned her to face him.

Her eyes were wide, dazed, and filled with a mixture of awe and pure satiation.

He looked down at the fallen tree, then back at her, a slow, wicked smile spreading across his face.

Hahaha!

Both of them laughed.

"You really are a beast!"

*

Back at the edge of the hunting camp, the night breathed with smoke and whispering pines. Sparks rose like fireflies, vanishing into the black canopy. Retainers spoke in low voices, sharpening blades or tending meat over the fire.

Cleora returned to her seat with slow, deliberate steps. Her eyes were far away, her face carved into calm marble—too calm.

Beneath that composure burned something fierce and wordless.

Gunter, the old man with years of reading men and women alike, saw it at once. The tautness in her jaw, the unsteady rhythm of her breath.

"My lady?" he asked softly, pretending nonchalance.

"You look... troubled."

"I’m fine," she said.

"Perfectly fine."

Her tone was brittle as glass.

Then came a thud from the forest—something heavy collapsing, followed by a startled cry of birds. Both turned toward the dark, but Cleora only stared at the fire, eyes reflecting the orange flame like molten gold.

Understanding dawned in Gunter’s eyes.

A half-smile tugged his weathered lips. "Ha-ah," he murmured, "the young bull has found a fresh pasture, has he?"

She said nothing.

He took a step closer, voice dropping to a low, honeyed tone.

"You shouldn’t be alone, Cleora. A woman like you deserves warmth. Respect. Someone who knows what it means to hold you—not just use you."

Cleora’s head turned sharply, her gaze cutting through him like a sword drawn in silence.

"Careful, Gunter," she said.

"You tread on dangerous ground."

He ignored the warning, emboldened by the scent of her perfume and the loneliness hanging between them.

"I could ease your pain," he whispered.

"I could remind you that you’re more than—"

Her voice sliced clean through his. "Can you fight like Jolthar does? Bleed like him? Stand between me and death?"

"And he can fuck me for hours, without taking any magical potions. Can you do that?"

Gunter froze at her words.

How did she know that I use potions?

Her eyes glowed with firelight, fierce and untamed.

"Then no," she said coldly.

"You can’t give me what I want."

Before he could answer, movement stirred beyond the torches.

Two silhouettes emerged—Jolthar and Raayani.

Their clothes were torn from the forest’s embrace, faces shadowed but unmistakable.

And Jolthar was carrying a wild boar behind his back.

The air thickened.

The three of them stood there, the night suddenly too small to hold them all.

Gunter, wisely, withdrew, fading into the background of tents and whispering men.

Cleora’s hands clenched.

Raayani’s chin lifted, proud and defiant.

Between them, Jolthar’s eyes moved from one to the other, a storm barely contained behind their dark calm.

Finally, he broke the silence.

"Enough of this glaring now," he said quietly, taking his place between them by the fire.

"Let’s eat."