Alayne, and it gets rough

Jon pulled out of Myranda with a final shudder, her inner thighs glistening in the firelight as she collapsed back against Sansa, their bodies pressing together in a tangle of limbs and shared heat. Myranda's chest heaved, nipples taut against the thin shift, a low moan escaping her lips as Sansa's fingers traced lazy circles over her sweat-damp skin.

As Jon's gaze travelled it locked on Alayne across the room—tall, dark-haired vision in the flickering torchlight, her velvet gown clinging to the full swell of her breasts, the deep neckline revealing pale cleavage that rose and fell with each breath. Winter-blue eyes met his, lips parted slightly, glossed and inviting, faint freckles scattered across her nose like whispered secrets. Black waves cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face sharp with anticipation, hips swaying as she stepped forward, the fabric whispering against her wider curves.

No hesitation marked Jon's advance; in two strides, hands seized her waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh above her hips, pulling her flush against him. Alayne's Full breasts crushed against his chest, her breath hitching hot against Jon's neck, hands fisting in his shirt as she ground against his length, the heat between her thighs already soaking through the gown.

"You. Now," came the low command, rough as dragged steel.

A sharp, knowing smile curved Alayne's lips. "Yes, my king. Take me hard."

With a single rough tug, her gown's laces slipped free, fabric slipping open to bare the silken sweep of her back, the generous flare of her hips, and the tempting curve of her ass. Jon bent Alayne over the table's edge, her palms smacking the wood as she braced, body arching instinctively to grind back against him. A soft, needy whimper slipped from her plump lips when Jon's fingers twisted into her black hair, yanking sharply to bare the **** line of her throat, pulse racing under pale skin.

"Make me yours," Alayne gasped, thighs parting wider, inviting the ****.

Jon drove into Alayne with unrelenting ****, the table shuddering beneath them as her slick heat enveloped him, clenching like a velvet fist. Her nails carved deep furrows into the wood, body surging back to match his punishing rhythm, thighs trembling with each resounding slap of skin. Sweat gleamed on her pale skin, catching the fire's glow along the taut lines of her arms and back, her fuller breasts bouncing wildly with every thrust that rocked her forward.

"Faster," Alayne demanded, voice breaking on a moan, body bucking against the unyielding ****.

The rhythm escalated, hips slamming with skin-on-skin cracks that echoed through the solar, hair yanked harder to arch her deeper, red marks blooming on her hip like weirwood leaves under gripping fingers. Cries tore raw from her throat—sharp, ecstatic, begging without shame—her walls clenching in waves that pulled him deeper.

The others closed in, hands and mouths attending Jon as he took Alayne: Sansa pressed against his back, fingers trailing down his chest to tease his skin while her lips brushed Jon ear in a hot whisper; Brienne leaned in from his side, golden hair spilling across his shoulder as she kissed his neck, her strong hands gripping his thighs to steady the rhythm; Alys knelt low, her lips claiming Jon's exposed skin at his hip in a fierce bite while her free hand reached between his legs, cupping and stroking him with deliberate pressure.

Their hips crashed together harder, the oak creaking in protest beneath slamming ****, Alayne's gasps turning ragged and unrestrained while bodies drew nearer. From the far edge, Wylla edged close, delicate palms linking with Brienne's grip on bare flesh, fingertips scoring faint red trails along the spine as Myranda leaned in—cheeks still pink from earlier ecstasy—murmuring heated urgings near the earlobe, digits gliding over ribs to amplify each shiver.

Alayne's climax erupted like lightning, her inner walls spasming in tight waves that drew him deeper, her frame bucking wildly against the wood in a fierce tremor, slick release gushing warm around his length as a primal scream ripped from her throat—feral, resounding off the stone like a direwolf's call under moonless skies. Jon tensed like forged steel right after, delivering one savage final drive that sank him to the hilt in her pulsing depths; his orgasm burst forth in heavy, throbbing streams, seed jetting deep into her in relentless surges, overfilling until it spilled in warm rivulets along her legs, the surrounding caresses and licks extending the bliss—claws scraping, mouths exploring—until every last drop drained from him, leaving his form draped heavily over hers in the weave of entangled arms and heated flesh.

Twisting slowly under Jon's spent weight, Alayne let out a deep, blissful moan that vibrated through her core, fingers releasing their grip on the table to glide across her glistening abdomen, cradling the lingering heat there with half-lidded eyes sparkling in delight at the prospect of his essence taking hold, a breathless laugh escaping as her legs tightened around him in lingering ecstasy.