She has had countless men who look like Luka. Men who tower over her in every aspect, raw physical power kept on short leashes for her protection and her pleasure. But none so far could ever hope to match his strength. The way he holds her now, she is terribly, deliciously aware of how strong he is. He drags her along his length as if to solely take his pleasure in the tightness and warmth of her body. Her unrestrained noises, however, indicate that there is plenty of pleasure on her end, driven by the way his cock fills her so completely on every downstroke.

She's vaguely aware that she's begging him. For what seems to be an embarrassing mix of purely lustful (pleading to take the full force of his desire, feel him fill her again) and needy (something about wanting to be completely his, etc etc).

Gods, if she had known him in his own warlording days, her devotion to him would have made her love for the Iron Crown look like a schoolgirl crush, she thinks.