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Remembering the pornos she had seen, Sarah tried to go deeper on his cock, her wet lips easily sliding down his stiff rod. His heat filled her mouth, and his head softly knocked against the back of her throat. Her tongue rubbed the underside of his shaft as she moved back up again. She brought the head of his cock almost back out of her mouth, but her lips pressed firmly against the head, squeezing another large dollop of precum into her mouth. Sarah descended again, a bit more quickly this time doing the same thing.

Should he do it? Just forfeit the match? To admit before the crowd that their prince was too weak to fight back? After everything that had happened to him, he had no pride left, nothing to lose. Maybe it was better to accept his failure and resign himself to his shame. Lying on the ground, he raised his arm, about to surrender, but stopped, thinking back to a conversation he had with Tarnas. It was during the year of training, the two of them sitting around the campfire on an autumn night. Seraph was staring deep into the flames, into the light and warmth, but all he felt inside was cold darkness.

Noah flashed his knight emblem. “Jon Doe, knight of Uther and husband of a lying whore. That son of a bitch, Noah, bedded my wife and left her pregnant, so if you think you’re going to rob me of the pleasure of stringing that rat bastard up by the balls, know that you’ll end up dangling right next to him.”