NTR: Barbarian Harem Conquest

The desk creaked under the force of his thrusts.

He kept the grip in her hair, holding her arched and open while he fucked her with deep, steady strokes.

Every withdrawal dragged the ridge of his cock along her inner walls; every return buried him completely.

The wet sound of their joining filled the study, skin against skin, the slap of his hips against her thighs, the continuous low moans she could no longer fully control.

"Harder," she demanded between gasps.

"Don’t you dare hold back now."

Kane answered by shifting his angle and driving deeper.

The new path made her cry out again—"Ah—yes—there—"—as the head of his cock rubbed firmly against the sensitive front wall.

He kept that angle, hips rolling with powerful, measured force.

One of her legs hooked around his waist; the other stayed spread wide by his hand. Her breasts bounced with every thrust, the dark-red nipples brushing his chest when he leaned in.

"You wanted the barbarian," he growled against her mouth.

"You wanted me to break. Feel it."

"I feel it—"

Another moan cut her off as he slammed home particularly deep.

"Fuck—don’t stop—"

He didn’t. He fucked her through the next climb, the thick cock working her open without mercy or pause.

When her second orgasm seized her, it was louder than the first, a raw, open-mouthed cry as her body clamped down around him in hard, pulsing waves.

The sudden tightness dragged a guttural sound from Kane’s own throat.

He held her through it, still thrusting, still buried deep, until the clenching eased and she was left trembling on the desk.

Kane pulled out only long enough to flip her.

One strong hand turned her onto her stomach across the polished wood. He tugged her hips back until she stood on the floor, bent over the desk, long dark hair spilling across the surface.

He kicked her feet farther apart, then guided himself back to the dripping entrance and thrust in again in one smooth, powerful stroke.

"Ah—!"

Slovia’s moan was muffled against the desk. Kane’s hands settled on the soft give of her hips.

He set a harder rhythm now, the full length of him pistoning in and out of the wet heat with wet, heavy sounds.

The body beneath him took every thrust, the heavy breasts crushed against the wood, the long hair shifting with each impact.

"You said you would make me cry," he said, voice rough with effort. "Look at you. Taking it. Moaning for it."

"Because it feels—"

Another sharp cry as he slammed particularly deep.

"—so fucking good—ah—"

He reached forward, tangled his hand in her hair again, and pulled her head up so her back arched.

The new angle let him drive even deeper.

Slovia’s moans turned continuous, broken only by gasps and the occasional demand for more.

Kane gave it to her—hard, deep, relentless, until her third climax tore through her with a full-throated cry that echoed off the stone walls.

The tight, rhythmic milking of her pussy around his cock finally pushed him over the edge.

He buried himself to the hilt and came with a low, broken groan, thick pulses of seed flooding her as his hips jerked through the release. He stayed locked inside her while the last spurts left him, chest heaving, one hand still fisted in her long hair.

For a long moment the only sounds were their ragged breathing and the soft crackle of the dying fire.

Kane eased his grip.

He pulled out slowly; a thick trickle of his release followed, running down the inside of one of her thighs.

Slovia remained bent over the desk for a few breaths longer, then pushed herself up on shaking arms and turned to face him.

Her lips were swollen from the earlier kiss and from biting back moans. Her assessing eyes still held that sharp, satisfied light.

"Not bad, barbarian," she said, voice husky.

"Not bad at all."

Kane’s cock remained half-hard, glistening with both of them.

He did not step back. The night was far from over, and both of them knew it.

Slovia reached out, trailed two fingers through the mess between her thighs, and brought them to her own mouth, tasting.

Then she smiled, slow, dangerous, and thoroughly pleased.

"Again," she said.

"Before the second bell. I want to feel that cock one more time before you crawl back to my daughter."

Slovia shifted on the desk until she faced him fully.

She sat properly, spine straight despite the earlier thorough fucking, and opened her legs wide.

One hand reached down between her thighs, two fingers spreading the slick, well-used folds of her pussy so the tight, darker ring of her ass was fully visible beneath.

Wine, spit, and the evidence of his previous release still marked her skin.

"Now use that hole."

Kane looked at her.

His cock, still heavy and flushed, twitched at the sight.

Stamina had never been his problem. The blood and the hard evolution had given him more than most men ever carried.

He stepped in between her open thighs, the head of his shaft already glistening.

"I’m going to destroy you."

Slovia’s mouth curved.

"Try your luck."

He spat into his palm and stroked the thick length once, coating it.

Then he pressed the broad head against the tight pucker of her ass.

The muscle resisted, small and clenched.

Kane pushed steady pressure, not forcing, just insistent.

Slovia’s breath hitched. He felt the gradual give, the slow stretch as the blunt tip began to breach her.

"Ahh—"

The sound left her higher than before.

Kane kept the pressure.

Another inch.

The tight ring stretched wide around the crown. He watched her face the entire time, assessing eyes half-lidded, lips parted.

"Breathe."

"I am—nn—"

He sank deeper.

The heat of her ass was different from her pussy, tighter, more unyielding, the friction intense even with the spit and residual wetness.

Halfway.

Slovia’s hands braced on the edge of the desk. Her heavy breasts rose and fell with each controlled breath.

Kane’s hands settled on her thighs, holding them open as he worked the remaining length into her in short, careful thrusts until he was buried to the root.

"F-fuck—"

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