Fit to be Queen [Sinbad x OC]

part five

A mild throbbing in the front of her head gradually forced Iris awake the next morning. She was having obscure dreams that night, questioning why she was having them in the first place.

She dreamt of the purple-haired King, ravishing and dominating her, making her melt beneath him. His large, toned body holding her as his muscles tightened under her touch. His strong fingers pressing against the soft skin of her thighs as his lips traced her neck.

Just thinking about the dreams she had made her blush.

Once she came to full consciousness a sudden realization dawned on her and she abruptly sat upright.

"Shit." She whispered and collapsed back on the mattress, her face redder than before.

The dreams were not dreams at all. They were blurred memories from the night prior.

several hours earlier

Sinbad succumbed to the alcohol and undeniable sexual tension. He couldn't keep his hands and lips off the girl anymore.

And she didn't fight him. The wine drowned out all logic for her and the way he confidently touched her - gentle when he should be and rough when he could be - and pressed his lips to hers... it all made her tremble with lust.

Iris was pinned to the wall, Sinbad being the only thing keeping her upright while smothering her with heated kisses and his overwhelming body.

He moved in rhythm with every kiss, biting her lower lip every time he gasped for air. Her legs kept his hips pressed to hers and as the man became more vanquished with desire, his hands went from her thighs to squeezing the soft muscles of her bottom.

With another nibble on her lip, the passionate man trailed her neck. Iris moaned and writhed beneath him, but not with any longing to escape. She wanted more. She melted knowing he knew exactly what to do with her; how to touch her, hold her, kiss her. She bit her lower lip in ecstasy as the man proceeded lower and lower, down her collarbone, and gripping at the neckline of her top.

Frustrated, Sinbad lifted the woman from the wall, gripping her in places that only made her hungrier with desire. He returned to her soft lips as he carried her and dropped her on the plush, large bed.

He loomed over the smaller woman, her cheeks flushed with heat. His golden eyes glowed with yearning. He ran strong fingers through the messy magenta strands of hair that framed her face.

He kissed her again, breathing in as he pressed his body against hers. His hands stroked every curve of her form.

All of it - all of her - felt better to him than any other woman or experience he had.

He parted from her momentarily, whispering "Iris" under his breath.

She moaned in response.

And as if he was suddenly clear-minded and sober, he abruptly got off of her and stepped away.

Iris blinked, confused, but not because of the alcohol, though it definitely had a significant effect on her judgement.

"It's time for bed." He grinned. But this smile was different. It wasn't as effortlessly, devious, or charming as the grins he flashed before. It seemed unnatural and forced.

He pinched a dark strand of hair between his fingers and looked at the girl for a few moments. Then he quickly released it and turned away, rushing through the door after muttering, "Goodnight, Iris."

present time

Iris kicked and whined and blushed, muffling her incoherent panicked noises through a pillow. "God, damnit!" She cried, feeling humiliated. "How could you be so stupid?!" She cursed herself.