Victor sat up slowly from where he had tasted Agnes moments earlier. He wiped his mouth with the back of one hand, savoring the lingering sweetness of her nectar on his tongue. His dark eyes locked onto her still trembling, half-exposed, thighs slick and parted on the velvet bench. The carriage continued its steady roll along the Imperial Road, wheels humming over frost-hardened earth, the occasional jolt reminding them both they were not truly alone in the world.
Agnes watched him with wide emerald eyes. Her silver braids had loosened slightly; stray strands clung to her flushed cheeks and the damp curve of her neck. Her heavy breasts rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths. Nipples remained peaked and dark from his earlier attention. Between her legs she was still open swollen folds glistening, a slow trickle of arousal seeping onto the cushion beneath her.
Victor reached for her without a word.
His fingers found the remaining fastenings of her bodice. He released them one by one deliberate, unhurried until the garment fell completely open. He pushed the black fabric off her shoulders. It slid down her arms, caught for a moment at her elbows, then pooled at her feet in a soft heap beside the discarded chemise and panties.
Agnes stood bare before him now, except for the white stockings held by black garters, the long gloves that reached her elbows, and the sensible low-heeled shoes. Her body was soft curves and pale skin narrow waist flaring into wide hips, full breasts that swayed gently with the carriage's motion, the silver curls at the apex of her thighs darkened with wetness.
Victor stood in the narrow space between benches. The motion of the carriage pressed them closer. His coat brushed against her bare breasts; she shivered at the rough wool against sensitive skin.
He caught her chin between thumb and forefinger, tilted her face upward until their eyes met.
"Turn around."
Agnes obeyed instantly. She pivoted, palms pressing flat against the opposite wall panel for balance. The narrow carriage window sat beside her right shoulder; pale gray daylight filtered through, painting cold stripes across her back and the rounded swell of her backside.
Victor stepped behind her. One hand slid around her waist, pulling her hips back until the soft curve of her ass pressed firmly against the rigid length still straining his trousers. Agnes let out a quiet, needy breath.
He undressed himself with efficient motions. Coat shrugged off and dropped to the bench. Shirt unbuttoned and cast aside. Trousers pushed down just enough to free his manhood thick, veined, already hard and glistening at the tip from the earlier restraint.
Agnes glanced over her shoulder. Her lips parted on a soft gasp when she saw him fully.
Victor gripped her hip with one hand. The other tangled in one silver braid, using it like a gentle rein to tilt her head back toward him. He leaned close until his mouth hovered at her ear.
"Open wider for me."
She shifted her stance at once thighs parting, back arching slightly to offer herself more completely.
Victor aligned the blunt head of his length with her entrance. She was still soaked from before—hot, slick, ready. He pushed forward in one long, steady glide.
Agnes's breath caught. Her inner walls stretched around him, fluttering, welcoming every inch until he was buried to the hilt. A low groan rumbled in his chest at the tight, perfect heat that enveloped him.
For several heartbeats he held still deep inside her letting her feel the full length, the thickness, the way he throbbed against her sensitive walls.
Then he began to move.
Slow withdrawals almost to the tip, followed by firm, deliberate thrusts that seated him completely again. Each stroke dragged along her inner walls, coaxing fresh nectar to coat him. Agnes's palms pressed harder against the panel. Small sounds escaped her soft whimpers, half-moans that rose with every plunge.
Victor's hands settled on her hips. Fingers dug into soft flesh as he pulled her back to meet each forward snap. The pace quickened. Flesh met flesh with wet, rhythmic slaps that echoed louder in the close confines of the carriage.
Harder.
Deeper.
The sound grew sharper skin slapping skin, the slick glide of their joining, the creak of the bench beneath them, the steady rumble of wheels outside. Agnes tried to stay quiet at first. She bit her lip. Pressed her forehead to the cool wood. But each powerful thrust forced another sound from her higher, needier, less controlled.
Victor leaned forward. His chest pressed flush to her back. One arm banded around her waist, holding her steady against the increasing force of his movements. The other hand slid upward to cup one heavy breast. He pinched the dark peak rolling it between thumb and forefinger, tugging gently while he drove into her harder still.
Agnes's control broke completely.
A loud moan tore free. "Master…!"
The word rang clear and desperate in the small space.
Victor answered with a low growl. He thrust faster short, brutal strokes that slapped against her backside with every plunge. The carriage rocked harder on its springs. The sound of their bodies colliding filled every corner wet, obscene, relentless.
He turned her head with a firm hand on her jaw. Brought her mouth to his.
Agnes opened instantly. Their tongues met hot, hungry, tasting of shared desire. He devoured her moans, swallowing every sound she made as he pounded into her without mercy.
Harder.
The rhythm became punishing. His hips snapped forward with bruising force. Each thrust drove deep enough to make her gasp into his mouth. Her breasts bounced against his forearm. Nipples scraped sensitive against his skin and the rough wool still clinging to his shoulders.
Agnes's legs trembled violently. Her inner walls began to flutter wildly around him clenching, releasing, gripping him tighter with every stroke.
She broke the kiss long enough to cry out. "Master—please—!"
Victor bit her lower lip, sharp enough to sting then soothed the mark with his tongue. "Come for me," he ordered against her mouth. "Let me feel you, break."
He shifted his angle. The next thrust ground directly against that sensitive spot deep inside her. At the same moment his fingers found the swollen pearl at the top of her folds circling once, twice; firm, insistent pressure.
Agnes shattered.
Her entire body seized. Back bowed sharply. Thighs clamped around his hips. A raw, broken scream tore from her throat loud enough that it echoed off the velvet walls. Her walls clamped down like warm velvet steel. Ripples of intense pleasure pulsed around his length. Fresh waves of nectar flooded out, soaking them both, dripping down her thighs and onto the floorboards in small, glistening puddles.
Victor did not slow.
He drove through her climax harder and deeper drawing out every shudder, every cry, every flutter until her knees threatened to give way. Only then did he let his own release build.
One final, brutal thrust.
He buried himself to the root and came with a low, guttural groan. Thick, hot pulses flooded her depths claiming her completely spilling deep inside while her walls continued to milk him greedily, drawing out every surge.
They stayed locked together for long moments. Breathing ragged. Bodies slick with sweat and shared essence. The carriage continued its steady roll, oblivious to the storm that had just passed within.
Slowly Victor withdrew. A thick trickle followed his seed mixed with her nectar sliding down the inside of her thigh in a warm, slow path.
Agnes sagged against the panel. Legs shaking. Breasts heaving. Silver braids completely undone now, strands clinging damply to her flushed skin and shoulders.
Victor caught her around the waist before she could collapse. He turned her gently. Guided her to sit on the bench. She sank against the cushions, eyes half-lidded, lips swollen and red from his kisses.
He retrieved a soft linen cloth from a hidden compartment beneath the seat. With careful strokes he wiped between her thighs cleaning her tenderly, wiping away the evidence of their joining while she watched him with soft, worshipful eyes.
When he finished, he draped his discarded coat over her bare shoulders, covering her nudity.
"Rest," he said quietly. "We arrive at the academy in six days."
Agnes pulled the coat tighter around herself. She nodded once, voice barely above a whisper. "Yes… Master."
She curled onto her side on the bench head pillowed on her folded arm, silver hair spilling across the velvet like liquid moonlight. Within minutes her breathing evened into the deep rhythm of exhausted sleep.
Victor dressed again trousers fastened, shirt buttoned, coat settled over his shoulders every motion precise and controlled. He settled onto the opposite bench, one leg stretched out, arms folded across his chest.
Outside the narrow window snow had begun to fall in slow, silent flakes. The black spires of the Imperial Military Academy were still a full day away, hidden somewhere beyond the gray horizon.
But the journey no longer felt endless.
He had already begun to claim what belonged to him one body, one surrender, one mile at a time.
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