Lord of the realm

Jaenor was quiet for a moment.

"You’re very direct."

"Life’s too short to be indirect." Her eyes held his.

"Especially when I see something I want."

The food arrived, providing a brief pause in the conversation. Vivian had ordered something with salmon. Jaenor had chosen at random from the menu, trusting that modern restaurants generally served edible food.

They ate in a silence that was charged rather than comfortable. Vivian’s eyes kept moving to him, assessing, appreciating. She’d crossed her legs under the table in a way that brought her slightly closer to his side.

"What do you want, Vivian?" Jaenor asked finally.

"Right now? Honestly?" She set down her fork.

"I want to know what you look like without that shirt."

Jaenor’s expression didn’t change, but something shifted in his eyes.

Amusement, maybe, or recognition that she’d decided to stop performing subtlety entirely. Or she’s just plainly a horny woman.

Was it the simple fact that women ruled this world or that men had been reduced to amusements at their leisure that made them so bold—so unafraid to say exactly what they pleased?

"That’s very forward."

"I told you. I’m direct when I want something."

She leaned back in her chair, her posture deliberately relaxed.

"And I want you. The question is whether you’re interested in being wanted."

Jaenor looked at her, studying her. The performance of confidence, the attraction underneath it, the particular hunger in her eyes that had nothing to do with the food on her plate.

He’d existed in the old times and now the new times.

The modern world’s particular blend of professional propriety and personal directness was new, but the fundamental dynamic was ancient.

Women who were the dominant races had become like tyrants; they take what they want, and here, Vivian was actually being polite as he was related to Kate; otherwise, she would have just dragged him to a room and fucked him to her heart’s content.

She wanted him, physically. Without complication or expectation beyond the immediate.

"I could be interested," he said.

Vivian’s smile widened.

"Could be? What would make you definitely interested?"

"You, asking for what you want clearly."

She held his gaze, understanding his words.

The restaurant noise faded into background static. The other diners became irrelevant. It was just the two of them across a white tablecloth, having a conversation that had stopped being about lunch entirely.

"I want to have sex with you," Vivian said. Clear, direct and no performance.

"Right now, before we go back to the office, before I lose my nerve or remember all the reasons this is probably a terrible idea, professionally."

Jaenor’s lips curved into something that was almost a smile.

"It would be impolite to decline a lady’s offer," he said.

Vivian stood immediately.

"Come with me."

She grabbed his hand and pulled him from the table, moving with determined purpose toward the back of the restaurant. The restrooms were down a corridor away from the main dining area, single-occupancy rooms with locks that actually worked.

She pulled him into the women’s room and locked the door behind them.

The bolt clicked into place with a metallic finality that seemed to echo inside Vivian’s chest. The cramped restroom—fluorescent light harsh, air thick with lemon cleaner and the faint metallic tang of pipes—became their entire world in an instant.

She turned on him like a tigress that had finally cornered what it had been stalking for weeks.

Her palms slammed flat against his chest, shoving Jaenor backward until his shoulders hit the wood-plated wall with a dull thud.

The impact forced a sharp exhale from him, but she didn’t give him time to recover.

Fingers—strong from years of gym grips and impatient boardroom gestures—attacked his belt with vicious efficiency. Leather snapped free; the zipper rasped down in one violent pull. She yanked trousers and briefs to mid-thigh in a single motion, freeing his cock.

It sprang upward, already rigid, veins prominent along the thick shaft, the flushed head glistening faintly in the overhead light.

Vivian’s breath caught—a low, animal sound rumbling from deep in her throat.

She was startled to see his length and girth, but she wasn’t frightened. She saw it as a challenge.

"You have an interesting tool, Jaenor."

Jaenor just smirked, watching her tear at him. He was finding all of this amusing, and soon she would be regretting her actions.

She wrapped her hand around him once, testing the heat, the weight, the impossible length that made her inner muscles clench in anticipation. Then she released him and hiked her pencil skirt to her waist in rough bunches.

Black lace panties were already soaked through; she clawed them aside without bothering to remove them, the fabric stretching taut against one thigh.

She stepped in close, aligned the blunt purple head against her slick entrance, and dropped.

The first inch burned, and she let out a deep moan, clutching his shirt.

MMmhhhh!!!!

The second stretched her wider.

SHh AHHH!!!

She felt the sharp sting of pleasure mingling with pain as she took him in inch by inch, her body trembling with desire.

By the time she’d taken half his length, she was hissing through clenched teeth, eyes slitted, feeling every ridge and vein as it forced her open.

She didn’t pause.

One hard roll of her hips and she sank the rest of the way—bottoming out with a wet smack that echoed off the tiles.

For a heartbeat she held still, impaled, adjusting to the deep, aching fullness that pressed against places inside her she rarely let anyone reach.

Then she began to move, slowly, grinning at him.

Jaenor held his hands around her hips, feeling the tight cunt wrapping and rubbing his dick.

She rode him like she was trying to break them both.

Her hips snapped downward in short, brutal strokes at first—testing, claiming—then lengthened into long, rolling glides that dragged her clit hard against his pubic bone with every descent.

The friction was electric, almost too much. She braced both hands on his shoulders, nails digging crescent moons into muscle, using him as leverage to lift herself nearly off his cock before slamming back down.

Jaenor was feeling her flesh tremble and tighten around him, the intensity of her movements sending a surge of pleasure through his body. He could sense her approaching the edge, her moans growing louder as she chased her release with a fierce determination.

Each plunge forced a fresh gush of wetness; the obscene, liquid sound of her cunt swallowing him filled the small space, louder than their breathing.

Sweat beaded along her hairline. Her blouse clung to her ribs. She fucked herself faster—greedier—chasing the pressure building low in her belly. Her inner walls fluttered, then clamped down hard as the first orgasm ripped through her without warning.

AHHH!!!!

Back arching, thighs quaking violently, she ground herself flush against him and screamed—a raw, choked sound that bounced off walls and mirrors. Her pussy pulsed in fierce, rhythmic waves, milking his length as if trying to pull him deeper still.

She didn’t stop.

Even as aftershocks made her legs tremble, she kept moving, slower now but deeper and more deliberate. She rolled her hips in tight circles, feeling him throb inside her, feeling the way her own slick heat coated him from root to tip.

Every grind dragged her swollen clit over his skin until the second climax built like a storm.

This one came out sharper and meaner.

Her vision blurred; a broken sob tore from her throat as she shattered again—walls spasming harder, thighs locking around his hips, and body shaking so violently she nearly lost her grip on his shoulders.

Jaenor had let her take what she wanted.

Now he was done waiting. It was his turn.

A low growl vibrated through his chest. His large hands seized her under one thigh and wrenched her leg upward, hooking it high over his hip. The new angle tilted her pelvis, opening her completely. He pinned her against the wall with his body weight and took control.

"You got what you wanted. Now let me show you what the real sex is like."

He fucked her like punishment.

Every thrust was deliberate and forceful, leaving her breathless and overwhelmed. She realized then that she had underestimated Jaenor’s intensity and dominance.

Each thrust was piston-precise and brutal—hips snapping forward so hard her ass slapped the tile behind her with every stroke. The whole cabin shook with every stroke.

Vivian’s squeals came high and helpless—sharp, animal sounds she couldn’t stifle—every breath punching the air from her lungs in fractured bursts. Her hands scrabbled at the wall, nails scraping uselessly for purchase as he pounded into her dripping heat. Sweat slicked the small of her back, and strands of hair stuck to her flushed cheeks.

She was loud now—unrestrained—and it only drove him harder.

Women who came into the restroom quickly left, hearing the noises. Some of them felt disgusted, and some of them were giggling, encouraging Vivian.

Jaenor continued to fuck like an animal, his long, thick dick stretching her pussy with every shot, and the juices were leaking out along with his dick.

Without warning he pulled out, spun her in one fluid motion, and shoved her forward over the sink. Cold walls pressed against her heated palms as she braced herself.

Jaenor fisted a handful of her hair firmly, yanking her head back until her throat arched. Her mascara was smudged, her lipstick smeared, and her eyes glassy with lust and surrender.

He kicked her feet further apart. One hand clamped bruisingly on her hip, locking her in place. Then he drove back inside—deeper than before, harder than before—bottoming out in a single, merciless thrust that made her whole body jolt forward.

He fucked her like he intended to ruin her for anyone else.

Long, punishing strokes that dragged almost all the way out before slamming home again.

The sink creaked under her weight; her braced arms trembled.

Every impact sent fresh sparks through her overstimulated nerves. Her moans fractured into raw, pleading fragments—"Fuck—fuck—yes—harder!!!" each word punched out of her on the next thrust. Her thighs shook violently; slickness ran down the inside of one leg.

Jaenor’s control frayed.

His rhythm grew erratic—faster, deeper—his hips grinding against her ass with every plunge. He leaned over her, teeth grazing the nape of her neck, then biting down just hard enough to mark without breaking skin.

The added sting tipped her toward the edge again.

She came a third time—unexpectedly, shattering—walls clamping so tightly around him that he snarled against her skin. Her knees buckled; only his grip and the sink kept her upright as pleasure-pain ripped through her in blinding waves.

He followed seconds later.

A savage growl tore from his throat.

He buried himself to the hilt, hips grinding flush, cock pulsing as he flooded her—hot, thick spurts that she felt deep in her core, so much so that it leaked out around him even as he stayed locked inside. His hand in her hair tightened briefly, then gentled as the last shudders rolled through them both.

They stayed fused together, panting, shaking.

The restroom smelled of sex now—musk, sweat, her arousal, his release.

Vivian’s laugh came out hoarse and wrecked.

She flexed around him once, drawing a low hiss from her throat.

Jaenor’s lips curved against the damp skin of her shoulder.