Ride you harder, trying to earn an ounce of your king seed

She rides you harder, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. You can feel the tension in her body as she tries to earn what she believes is her right—an heir to the throne, born of her body and your power. You can feel the heat building in your loins, the pressure mounting as she brings you closer to the edge.

The room is filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin and the wetness of her sex enveloping your manhood. Her breasts bounce with each bounce, her red hair cascading over her shoulders. You grip her hips, pushing her down onto you, feeling her muscles tense around you. The scent of her arousal fills the air, mingling with the smoky scent of the candles.

She moans out. "Your seed will be the salvation of this realm," Melisandre whispers, her eyes blazing with a mix of passion and fanaticism. Her movements become erratic as she nears her climax, her walls contracting around you with the urgency of a woman trying to claim a piece of divinity. You feel yourself getting closer to the edge, the heat in your loins building like the fires of a dragon's breath.

You know she wants your seed for dark magic. You understand the depth of her ambition and the lengths she would go to achieve it. But you are not a man to be used, not even by a woman as tempting as Melisandre. You push her down harder, forcing her to take all of you. "You will not use me," you murmur, your voice strained with passion and determination. "I will use you."

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