Led By Fiery Passion (currently being revised)

Part 31

Aenyra let out a surprised squeal as she suddenly found herself flat on her back, pinned beneath the firm weight of Aemond's body. His grip on her wrists was strong, commanding—but never cruel—and the shock of it quickly gave way to a breathless rush of excitement that curled low in her belly.

Above her, his lone eye gleamed with something wild and mischievous, a crooked smirk tugging at his lips.

"Well, well... looks like the tables have turned, niece," Aemond murmured, his voice low and teasing as he leaned in close, his face mere inches from hers.

She barely had time to respond before he dipped lower, one hand weaving into her braid as he pulled her into a fierce, grounding embrace. His breath fanned against her cheek as he inhaled deeply, the twitch of his mouth betraying the tension coiled beneath his skin.

Gods, he thought, why does she always smell so fucking good?

Aenyra's laughter had softened, melting into a breathless sigh. Her playful smile faded, replaced by something quieter—longing, need—as she wrapped her arms around him in return, holding him just as tightly. Everything around them disappeared—the rustling of leaves, the warmth of the sun, the distant birdsong. There was only Aemond.

His hand found her cheek, thumb brushing reverently along her jawline. She leaned into the touch, her eyes meeting his. Neither of them needed to speak. The silence between them was thick with everything left unspoken.

And then he kissed her.

Softly at first—tender, like a secret he didn't yet dare say aloud. But the gentleness was fleeting. Hunger surged between them, deep and desperate. His mouth moved from hers to her cheek, then down to the soft skin beneath her ear, finding the sensitive spot he'd discovered the night before. Her breath hitched as he sucked gently, and a quiet moan escaped her lips—low and aching.

His fingers worked at the laces of her tunic, loosening them with practiced ease. The fabric slipped away, baring the delicate swell of her breast to the cool air and his hungry gaze. Aemond didn't hesitate. He dipped lower, wrapping his lips around her nipple and sucking hard.

A sharp cry tore from her throat as pleasure surged through her, her back arching against him. He pressed his hips into hers, grinding into the heat between her thighs, showing her just how far his restraint had slipped.

"Mmm..." Aenyra moaned, her fingers twisting in his hair, pulling him closer as if she could keep him there forever.

Aemond groaned against her skin, his voice strained and thick with warning. "Fuck... Aenyra. If you keep making those sounds, I'll lose every last shred of control and take you right here for anyone to see."

The heat in her blood flared hotter, her lips finding his again in a kiss that was all fire and recklessness—a kiss that promised destruction and devotion in equal measure.

But just as their mouths met, a voice rang out in the clearing—sharp, close, unmistakable.

"Oh my, please do—I'd love to see that," a voice called out, dripping with amusement.

Aenyra and Aemond both turned sharply, startled.

There, leaning lazily against the arching entrance of the Godswood, stood Aegon. He descended the stone steps at an unhurried pace, smirking as if he'd just walked in on a tavern brawl he had no intention of stopping.

Aemond moved quickly, shielding Aenyra with his body as he tugged her tunic closed, his posture shifting into something immediately tense—guarded.

"Don't stop on my account," Aegon drawled, now leaning against a nearby tree. "I was rather enjoying where that was headed."