Taking my share

Megara hung limp in my arms, her head resting on my shoulder, her breathing jagged and shallow. She thought the storm had passed. She thought she could drift away in the afterglow.

I tightened my grip on her hips.

"Wake up, Meg," I said, my voice vibrating through her chest. "I haven't taken my share yet."

She groaned, a mix of protest and exhaustion. "You... you're a monster..."

"I'm a Master," I corrected.

I unhooked her ankles from behind my back. Her legs were jelly, useless. She would have collapsed if I hadn't been holding her. I didn't let her fall. I lowered her slowly, sliding down the trunk of the olive tree until we reached the ground.

I laid her out on the overgrown grass. Her violet dress fanned out around her like a bruised flower petals. Her hair was a wild auburn halo on the green earth. She looked devastatingly ruined, lips swollen, eyes half-lidded, skin flushed with the heat of what we’d just done.

I didn't give her space. I crawled over her, positioning myself between her spread legs again. My shadow fell over her face, blocking out the dappled sunlight.

She looked up at me, blinking against the sudden shade.

"You're blocking the sun," she murmured weakly.

"I am the eclipse," I said.

I grabbed her knees and pushed them upward and outward, pressing them almost to her shoulders. She was wide open, completely exposed to me. The sight of her glistening, stretched entrance, still twitching from her orgasm, was enough to push me to the edge.

I didn't tease this time. I lined up and drove into her with a single, heavy thrust.

"Ahhh!" Her head snapped back into the grass. Her exhaustion vanished, replaced by a fresh wave of sensation. "Too... big..."

"Take it all," I grunted, establishing a new rhythm.

This wasn't the steady, punishing pace of before. This was possessive. Deep, grinding strokes that rubbed against every nerve ending she had left. I leaned forward, resting my weight on my forearms on either side of her head, boxing her in.

I looked down into her eyes. The violet was swirling, dark and deep.

"Hercules is up in the clouds," I rasped, thrusting into her womb. "He's fighting hydras and posing for pictures. But right now... right here on the dirt... you belong to me."

"Yes..." she sobbed, tossing her head from side to side. Her hands came up to clutch at my biceps, her fingernails digging in. "Yes... Ray..."

"Say it," I demanded, pounding into her. "Who fills you?"

"You do!" she cried out. "You fill me! It's so full!"

The friction was unbearable. The wet heat of her body, the tightness of her grip, the smell of crushed grass and sex. It all coalesced into a singularity of pleasure. The gravity I carried centered right there, at the point where we connected.

I felt the coil tighten in my lower belly.

"Hold on, Meg," I warned, my voice cracking. "I'm coming down."

I pulled back almost all the way, the cool air hitting the head of my cock for a split second, before I slammed home.

I buried myself in her to the hilt, pressing my pelvis against hers until there was no space left.

I came.

It was a torrent. Heavy, hot ropes of seed fired deep inside her, flooding her already drenched interior. I groaned, burying my face in her neck, riding out the release. My hips twitched involuntarily, pumping the last drops into her.

Megara cried out as she felt the warmth spread inside her. It was too much sensation. Her body reacted with another, smaller set of contractions, milking me dry, squeezing every last drop of essence from me to claim as her own.

We stayed like that for a long time. Me, collapsed on top of her, crushing her into the earth. Her, wrapped around me, her legs still hooked over my arms, holding me inside.

The silence of the garden returned, broken only by our harsh, synchronized breathing and the distant chirp of a cicada.

I finally lifted my head. I looked down at her. She looked wrecked. Beautifully, thoroughly wrecked.

I withdrew slowly. A rush of fluids, hers and mine, followed me out, soaking her thighs and the grass beneath her.

I stood back up, adjusting my trousers.

Megara lay there for a moment, staring up at the leaves, her chest heaving. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face. It wasn't cynical. It wasn't sarcastic. It was the satisfied, dazed smile of a woman who had finally found something solid to hold onto.

"Well," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "That beats a chariot ride."