Chapter 641: Marked Mother-In-Law (r-18)

And he resumed his thrusts.

Slow at first. Deeprollingmovements that let her feel every ridge and vein dragging along her inner walls

The broadcrownpressed flush against her deepest wall on every downstroke, grinding in slow circles before he withdrew—her entrance clinging to the retreating head, reluctant, a thick strand of her juice stretching between them before it snapped.

Then the rhythm built. Heavier. More certain. Each thrust sinking a fraction deeper than the last, her body opening to accommodate him in increments, her pussy lips dragging outward on every pull—flushing white at the edges, then deepcrimson—the evidence of their joining thickening into a glossy ring at his base that grew messier with every stroke.

"Ahhhh—"Shehuggedhim so tight.

Her legslockedaround his waist, heels digging hard into his lower back while her arms crushed him against her chest and the bareheavy titspressing into the rough fabric of his shirt, her stiff nipples scraping with every roll of her hips.

Their mouths found each other between thrusts—messy, open-mouthed, broken by her desperate little gasps and his low rumbling growls.

The wet sounds of their bodies weremuffledby their closeness—the steady slick rhythm of her cunt taking his cock, the soft impact of her soaked thighs against his clothed hips, the quiet squelch every time he bottomed out.

She was holding onto him the way a drowning woman holds a raft.

It was not just for the sex and definitely not just because he was the best thing she'd ever felt inside her body—thoughhe was, by such a margin that every memory of Jonathan's fumbling attempts had already been rewritten as evidence of a different, smaller, crueller life.

She was holding him because he had kissed every bruise... and showed her this was beyond pety revenge and spite sex she'd asked her.

He was showing her she was worthy every ounce of worship he was giving her and it had never been performative even at once.

Because he hadknelton the floor of her husband's bedroom and pressed his lips to the purple-green map Jonathan had beaten into her ribs, her stomach, her thighs, and he had not flinched and he had not looked away and he had not saidit'll be okaybecause they both knew it wasn't okay and might never be okay.

And instead, he had said nothing at all and simplykissedeach mark and bruise until his mouth had replaced every memory of the fist that made it.

And now his cock was inside her and his arms were around her and she was safe.

For the first time in years, Roxanne Montgomery felt and she was sure that she was... safe.

And beneath her left breast—in the soft heavy curve where her heart beat strongest—something began to bloom.

It started aswarmth.

A gentle heat spreading across her skin like sunlight pouring into a room that had been dark for decades. At first, she barely noticed it, too lost in the thick stretching drag of his cocksplittingher open, too consumed by the pleasure already tightening in her core.

Then the warmth became a tingle. Electric and shimmering as it raced across her nerves like something alive.

Then the tingle became a burn.

But it was not painful.

A searing, yes anddeliciousburn that bloomed outward from the centre of her left breast and sank deep—past flesh, past bone, into the part of her soul that had been beaten dark. The heat pulsed in perfect synchrony with his cock inside her—every slow thrust sending another wave of liquid fire through the place where the Mark was waking up.

She gasped—not from hiscock, but from the sudden overwhelming awareness of what was happening.

His Mark.

It ignited beneath her left breast in shimmering lines of molten gold that darkened to deep draconiccrimsonedged in flickering black fire.

The designseareditself into her skin with the precision of anartist and the possessivenessof a brand—a powerful Westerndragonwith broad wings folded tight against its muscular body, a long thick tail curling inward toward the soft secret crease where thigh met heaven.

Its scales were deep glossy black with subtlecrimson-pinkhighlightsthat caught the light like fresh blood and flushed arousal. The dragon'samethyst-purpleeyes glowed withintelligent hunger, jaws parted as if tasting her skin.

Coiled through the dragon's body was elegant ancient script that readPRT—the letters formed from living flame, glowing vividpink-crimson, throbbingtoo with every heartbeat.

Each time the Markpulsedthe dragon seemed to shift against her skin, its tail tightening, its wings flaring just enough to send fresh spikes of searing pleasure straight to her clit and deep into her cunt.

The moment the Mark fully ignited, ecstasy hit her like a wall falling.

"HHHNNNG—! Aaaahhh—!"

Her entire nervous system detonated in pleasure.

Every nerve ending firing at once.

Her pussyspasmedhard around histhick cock—rhythmic, crushing contractions that milked his shaft with desperate uncontrollable force, her inner walls clamping and rippling as if trying tosuckhim deeper.

The crimson script of the Mark throbbed brighter, hotter, each pulse sending white-hot pleasure lancing through herclit, her pussy walls and cervix at the exact moment his cock ground against them.

Her thighs shook violently around his waist, toes curling until her feet cramped.

Her back arched, pressing the burning Mark harder against his chest as wave after wave ofsoul-deepecstasycrashed through her—not just her cunt seizing around him but something deeper, something that reached into the black pit Jonathan had beaten into her centre andfilled it with light.

Tears poured down her cheeks. Hot and overwhelming tears that had nothing to do with pain for the first time in so long she'd forgotten what the other kind felt like.

Finally. She thought to herself.

Finally, she was claimed by someone who wanted her. Who had kissed every bruise and still worshipped her. Who was now burning hiseternal markinto hersoulwhile his massive cock stretched her dripping pussy wide open on her husband's bed.

She clung to him tighter, sobbing against his mouth between kisses.

"I'myours... I'myours... take all of me... I choose you, Phei... only you... my dragon... you're myeverything now..."

Phei felt their bond too settling into place in his chest—warm, absolute, a connection that had weight and permanence and would not be undone by anything in this world or the ones above it.

He looked down at her and then at the glowing Mark beneath her breast—the dragon's amethyst eyes watching him with dark satisfaction, its tail curling tighter with every throb.

At the tears streaming down her flushed face and the woman who had spent twenty years being broken and had just chosen—freely, completely, with full knowledge of what it meant—to become his.

Something shifted inside him. But it wasn't tenderness—he'd been tender all night. There was something underneath tenderness.