Veylara shook her head, a trace of old sorrow dampening her voice. "My mother died of the winter lung rot when I was barely seven winters old. And my father... my father only cared for warriors. He saw my strength and only used me as a weapon, a spear to throw at rival borders.
We barely spoke unless blood was involved. When my blood first came, the village healers simply handed me clean moss and told me to focus on my spear forms."
The pieces of the puzzle fell into place with absolute clarity.
Sol looked down at the stunning, mature woman sitting naked in his lap, her soft heavy breasts pressed to his arm, her strong back against his chest, one of her hands still loosely wrapped around his throbbing cock and his own hand still cupping the slightly bushy, extremely enticing heat of her pussy.
She was a mother. She was a sovereign who commanded hundreds of warriors and ruled the Veynar. Yet, in the most primal, intimate sense of the word... she was a complete virgin.
