The Dragon looked at its newest woman and decided it was not finished.

"Against the headboard."

His voice was rough. Raw and now hungry for her... so much!

He’d been way too slow today and tender... it was time to give her what she really craved.

The Mark, the bond, the knowledge that this woman’s cunt and heart and soul were irrevocably his had unlocked something darker in his blood—the same predatory hunger that surfaced when he claimed Melissa, the same furnace-heat, but deeper now, hotter, because Roxanne hadn’t been conquered.

Roxanne had surrendered just like how Melissa had once done.

And surrender was the most dangerous gift a woman could give a Dragon.

She didn’t question it or hesitate.

The woman who had flinched at every sudden movement Jonathan ever made moved without fear at Phei’s command because her body already understood what her mind was still learning—that this man’s roughness was not violence.

His dominance was not cruelty. He would fuck her until she couldn’t walk and then carry her, and the fucking would feel like salvation.

He wrenched his cock out of her pussy, free in one savage, wet pull.

Her empty cunt gapped open in a round open O before it clenched desperately around nothing, a thick, pearly rope of her cream stretching obscenely between his glistening crown and her claimed clenching folds before it snapped and fell in a heavy strand onto the ruined sheets.

In one fluid, merciless motion he flipped her onto her knees, facing the ornate wooden headboard Jonathan had once boasted about buying. Her palms slammed against the dark wood, knuckles bleaching white as she braced.

Phei pressed against her from behind — still fully clothed while she was naked and trembling — and drove home.

PAAAAHHHH!

One brutal hard, claiming stroke.

Every last inch of his massive cock she could take buried itself into her pussy in a single devastating thrust that punched a raw, shattering scream from her lungs and slammed her breasts against the headboard.

From this angle he was deeper. Harder. Possessive. The sharp tilt of her hips opened her completely, letting the fat crown hammer against that hidden, sacred ridge inside her with punishing, womb-crushing force.

He didn’t ease in either.

He took her — fast, relentless, animalistic — jackhammering into her with bone-shaking power that made her vision explode white and her thighs turn to liquid ruin.

Her full, round ass slammed back against him with starving desperation — soft flesh rippling and bouncing violently with every merciless impact.

Her cunt gripped him in a flushed, velvet vise, thick rings of her cream painting his shaft in messy, glistening patterns that stretched and snapped between their bodies with every violent withdrawal before he crashed back in with a wet, thunderous slap that made her depths announce their total, screaming surrender in the filthiest, most beautiful sounds the room had ever heard.

The Mark beneath her swaying left breast burned hotter, the dragon’s eyes flashing molten gold with every devastating stroke.

Phei’s hands owned her completely — one sliding beneath to cup the heavy swing of her breast, thumb tracing the glowing Mark and sending crackling lightning of bond-ecstasy straight into her soul while the other gripped her hip with bruising, fingerprint-leaving strength, yanking her back onto his cock like he was determined to fuse them into one.

Jonathan’s view was a sentence of eternal damnation.

From his frozen prison he saw everything.

His wife’s face pressed sideways against the headboard he had bought three Christmases ago, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a continuous, broken wail that sounded nothing like the woman he had known.

This was no performance, no polite endurance.

This was raw, shattering truth — the face of a woman being ruined and reborn at once by a boy who knew exactly how to break her open, claim her soul, and make her thank him for the destruction.

Her heavy tits swung beneath her like pendulums of sin, the dragon Mark blazing crimson and gold on the soft underside, its tail curling tighter with every punishing thrust as though the beast itself were fucking her from within.

Her back arched like a drawn bow. Her ass pushed back and then up greedily to meet every brutal stroke.

And between her trembling thighs, her once-modest cunt was stretched into a perfect, obscene ring around a cock that made Jonathan’s look like a child’s toy — creaming, fluttering, producing wet, filthy symphonies that filled the bedroom with proof of her first real awakening.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

The headboard he had bought slammed against the wall he had painted, each impact hammering the final nails into a marriage that had been dead for years and only now received its funeral.

"Yes—yes—harder—please—fuck me harder PHEI my love—"

She was begging. Roxanne was begging. In twenty years she had never once begged Jonathan for anything, because begging had only ever earned her bruises.

Now she begged like a woman who had discovered prayer — and the god answering them as ruthless on her pussy that neede those fucking prayers!

Phei leaned over her arched back, mouth devouring her spine — lips pressing, teeth grazing, tongue tracing each vertebra while his cock pounded into her with fast, savage, unrelenting force.

The headboard cracked rhythmically against the wall in time with the wet, obscene symphony of their bodies colliding, his hips snapping forward like a machine built for one purpose... to claim her completely.

"That’s my good mother-in-law," he growled against her shoulder, teeth sinking in hard enough to mark. "My girl’s mother. You’re now Mine. Take every brutal inch of your dragon’s cock and let him hear what I do to you. Let the bastard learn what his wife’s cunt sounds like when she’s finally being loved properly — fucked and she belongs to me and no one else ever again."

Not fucked but Loved.

The word was crueler than any blow. And he had chosen it on purpose.

Her orgasm detonated like a bomb inside her pussy and womb.

Her pussy tightened around him like a velvet fist trying to crush the life from his cock, her moans climbing into a shattering crescendo as her hips slammed backward with frantic, desperate need. Thick white cream coated him so heavily it dripped from his balls in steady, obscene strands.

Her pearl throbbed against the relentless grind of his pelvis, so oversensitive that every punishing thrust felt like it was fucking her soul itself.

When she came, she screamed his name like a vow torn from the depths of her soul.

"PHEI—!"

Not Jonathan’s... never Jonathan’s again and that would last forever!

With no Jonathan!

The cry tore from her throat as her cunt clamped down with crushing, rhythmic violence — inner walls rippling and spasming wildly around his thick shaft while the Mark beneath her breast flared blinding white-hot and the dragon’s eyes blazed with triumph.

Her whole body convulsed — back bowing violently, thighs shaking uncontrollably, a hot, forceful flood of her release spraying out around his pistoning cock and drenching his balls, his thighs, and Jonathan’s sheets in a soaking, sacred mess.

The bed Jonathan bought. The sheets Jonathan had been ready to sleep in tonight after he beat her up. The room where Jonathan had beaten her and called it love.

All of it now baptized in the evidence of his wife choosing heaven and hell of pleasure at once with another man — pleasure so intense it bordered on agony, and she was begging for more.

She collapsed forward against the headboard, breathing in shattered, sobbing gasps, yet her cunt still fluttered weakly around Phei’s cock in lingering aftershocks, thick strands of her cream dripping steadily from where they remained joined.

The Mark glowed soft and steady beneath her breast — the dragon’s tail curled possessively tight, its amethyst eyes half-lidded in satisfied possession, as if the beast itself had claimed her too.

Phei gathered her gently.

He eased her down onto the ruined sheets with hands that had just fucked her into oblivion and were now tracing her cheekbone like she was made of the most fragile starlight. The contrast — brutal claiming followed by infinite tenderness — was not cruelty.

It was him.

The Dragon and the boy. The predator who had just ruined her and the man who would spend the rest of his life kissing every scar he had helped her forget.

His still-hard cock rested heavy and slick against her thigh, pulsing, endless, ready — but Phei held her instead.

"You’re mine," he murmured against her temple, voice low and reverent. "Completely. Irrevocably."

She smiled — exhausted, wrecked, tear-streaked, glowing, and still dripping with the evidence of her total surrender.

"Forever," she whispered back.

And meant it with the bone-deep certainty of a woman who had survived twenty years of hell and had finally found the one soul worth dying — and living — for.

She was his. Completely. Irrevocably. Forever.