Whispers of the Royal Blood | 18+

Chapter 29

The crown prince watched her, his eyes following her every move. His body was taut like a bowstring, every muscle tight with pent-up sexual appetite. He was both irritated and enchanted by her games. It was not the first time she teased him and then denied him, but he had never gotten used to it. His need for her was a constant ache, a fire that flared every time she came near, only to be quelled when their bodies finally joined.

Morgana Lavens then walked to a window, looking out at the night sky, her slender frame silhouetted by the moonlight. Her gown clung to her body, the fabric hugging her curves in a way that was both seductive and infuriating to Lucius. She knew what she was doing to him, enjoying the power she held over him. Her words, when she spoke, were a taunting whisper. "You look like you are struggling, my love."

"You know I am." He responded, without trying to hide it. She could see the evidence of his struggle in the tenting of his breeches, the way his hands clenched and unclenched on the arms of the chair, the sharp intakes of breath he could not control. She just chuckled, swirling the wine in her glass, the sound of liquid against the glass a subtle mockery of his predicament.

"Perhaps I ought to help you, then." She suggested, her voice like silken barbed wire. Lucius' jaw clenched. He knew better than to think she would give in so easily. No, she was going to draw this out, make him suffer a little longer before giving in. This was one of the things that both irritated and inflamed him about her.

He stood up, his body moving with a smooth economy despite the tension he was feeling. He moved closer to her, each step measured and controlled. "And what exactly did you had in mind, darling?" He asked, his voice as cool as he could manage. "Oh, just a little...relief." She replied, turning to face him.

The enchantress tilted her head, her eyes travelling over him appreciatively, lingering on the obvious evidence of his arousal. She stepped closer, bringing her body just within reach of his. Her scent, a heady mix of perfume and something that was uniquely her, filled the air between them. She looked up at him, her lips curved in a teasing smile. "You seem to be in a pretty difficult situation, my love. It is my duty as your 'wife' to help you through this ordeal, isn't it?"

He struggled to keep his hands to himself, every fibre of his being wanting to pull her against him, to feel her body yield to his touch. But he knew she was not ready yet. Instead, he continued to maintain the facade of control, even as he felt his self-restraint fray a little more with every passing second. "And here I thought you were merely enjoying seeing me suffer." He said, his voice a little huskier than usual. She moved closer, closing the gap between them almost to nothing.

Her breath ghosted over his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. She reached up to run a finger along his jawline, her touch feather-light. "I am," she admitted freely. "There is something quite satisfying about seeing you so...desperate for me." She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. "But I also find great pleasure in satisfying your needs, Lucius." Her hand trailed down his chest, coming to rest on the waistband of his breeches.

The young man gritted his teeth, his breath catching in his throat at her touch. Her words, her scent, her nearness...everything was designed to push him further over the edge. He wanted to grab her, to claim her, to make her feel just as frantic as he did. But he recognized that was exactly what she wanted.

Her hand continued its downward journey, her fingers tracing the outline of his arousal, her touch both maddening and wonderful. "Morgana." He muttered, his voice thick with want. She hummed in triumph, relishing his response. Her touch grew bolder, her fingers moving with firmer strokes now. "You should see yourself," she murmured, her lips tracing the shell of his ear. "So wretched. So ready to fall apart for me."