The Nord thrust himself into the Breton once more, filling her with his length; he was insatiable with this raven-haired beauty beneath him, but his release was imminent. His strokes became hurried and demanding; he needed to claim this woman as his and only his. Her breasts, so creamy white, jiggled vigorously as his climax approached rapidly. The sounds of her pleasure growing louder pushed him over the edge and with a final thrust, his seed erupted inside of her, the force of his orgasm spasmed through him as he collapsed onto the bed next to her.
“You know how to steal a man’s heart, darling,” he breathed heavily.
Meliandra smiled as she sat atop him, straddling him between her legs, her long, black hair draping across her breasts. “It was never my intention to steal your heart.”
“But you did,” the blond responded. “From the moment I laid eyes on you, you had me.”
She leaned down and kissed his lips. “I find that I seem to have that affect on people. Which is good, really,” she said sweetly as her hand found its way to the dagger she had secreted away when the Nord had not been paying attention. As his eyes questioned her, she drew the edge of the blade across his neck, spraying the legate’s blood across her.
“Death to the Empire.”