The column moved again. Elizabeth's trousers were a soaked ruin. Every stride of the horse forced another thick pulse of cum out of her. It ran hot down her inner thighs, soaked into the saddle leather, and made a soft, wet sound she could no longer hide.
She rode with her jaw tight, trying to keep her face blank, but the residual lock betrayed everything.
Aiden felt every clench, every fresh trickle, every tiny moan she swallowed. His voice stayed low and private, meant only for her.
"You're making a fucking mess of that saddle," he murmured. "I can feel how wet you still are. My cum is pouring out of you with every step."
"I know—" Her breath hitched as the horse stepped down a small drop. A heavier gush slipped free. "Ahh… it's running into my boot now."
"Good. I want you dripping the whole way. I want that cunt soft and open and marked so deep you feel me even when I'm not inside you."
