STORM TRADITIONS

ADRIAN

I’ve spent the last few hours, trying to understand the logic behind yesterday’s… interaction. I’ve had sex with the best. I’ve fucked the prettiest whores the territories could ever offer. I’ve handled high numbers of women at a time, my highest being too extreme to say.

Yet this pup—even after leaving some of my favorite things behind—made me moan. How? It’s never happened. I’ve never had sex so electrifying that I would continue to fantasize about it till the next day.

I wanted to believe that it was the fucking mate bond the goddess created but… why did I feel like there was more to it.

I heard a knock on the door and sat up, knowing she had arrived. But I kept her for a minute and broke open a bottle of tequila, pouring it into a glass. I was certain she heard the sound of alcohol flowing because she impatiently knocked on the door. When the foam was gone and only the poison was left, I decided to free her… She might possibly have some trouble standing.

The iron door opene