She had been running for hours. Her body was depleted. Her mana was gone. Her blood sugar was crashing. She was a princess who had never missed a meal in her life, and now she was kneeling in mud watching a man feed a woman whose pussy was leaking blood and seed, and her belly was growling so loud that the birds had stopped singing.
Raven looked at her.
He smiled.
"Come on," he said. His voice was warm. Inviting. The voice of a man offering food to a starving child. He held up a piece of chicken. The golden skin glistened. The steam rose. The scent crossed the pond. "Eat it."
The princess trembled.
She looked at the chicken. At the juice. At the man. At the woman. At the cock— resting on Latina's stomach, twelve inches, dark, slick. At the transaction. At the exchange.
