The relentless rhythm continued, a testament to Alaric's seemingly inexhaustible stamina. The sun climbed high into the sky, flooding the room with the bright, unforgiving light of midday. Inside the inn room, however, time seemed warped, measured only by the slick slap of skin, the desperate moans, and the guttural commands of their self-proclaimed King.
Alaric took them again and again, his energy unwavering. He moved from Margaret's slick heat to Josephine's trembling core, never letting the pace slacken for long. He pushed them past exhaustion, drawing out pleasure even when they thought their bodies had nothing left to give.
He drove into Josephine with punishing force, her cries turning into breathless whimpers. Her body, usually vibrant, was now almost limp beneath him, responding purely on instinct and the overwhelming sensations he forced upon her.
"King… please… no more…" she sobbed, the words barely audible. "I can't… I can't take anymore…"
