Left alone, Mirha drew in a deep breath, her palms smoothing the silk as if to steady her racing pulse. She ventured into the corridor, footsteps echoing faintly against the stone floors. To ward off the flood of memories from the previous night, she began counting each step—one, two, three—focusing on the rhythm to drown out the echoes. But they crept in anyway: the hungry press of Arvin's lips on hers, desperate and consuming, charged with an electric tension that had left her breathless. Heat bloomed low in her belly at the recollection, a slick warmth gathering between her thighs. She paused mid-stride, inhaling sharply to compose herself, then pushed onward.
The dining hall loomed ahead, its arched doorway spilling golden light from the morning sun. Arvin sat at the head of the long table, deep in conversation with a visiting lord, their voices a low murmur about trade routes and alliances. As Mirha crossed the threshold, the lord's eyes flicked toward her, but Arvin's sharp glance pinned him in place—a silent command to avert his gaze. The man bowed hastily, murmuring excuses, and retreated with purposeful strides.
Mirha forced a smile to mask the flutter of nerves in her chest. "Good morning, Your Majesty," she said, her voice lighter than she felt.
Arvin turned fully to her, his expression softening like dawn breaking. "Good morning," he replied, the words carrying a gentle weight that made her heart stutter.
She took her seat across from him, the servants arriving swiftly with platters of fresh fruits, warm bread, and spiced eggs. Once they withdrew, the room seemed to shrink, the air thickening with unspoken currents. Mirha picked at her food, words tangling on her tongue. She wanted to bridge the silence—to acknowledge the vulnerability they'd shared, the tenderness in the tub—but uncertainty held her back. As she lifted her gaze to meet his, her mouth parted, a question forming unbidden.
But Arvin spoke first, his brow furrowing with concern. "Are you alright? If you feel unwell, I can have Mayora summon a physician."
The tension coiled in her shoulders dissolved at his quiet kindness, a balm to the raw edges of her emotions. He was too gentle, too considerate—far more than her station might warrant. A swell of gratitude washed over her, leaving her feeling oddly cherished, almost blessed in this intricate dance of courtly affection.
She shook her head, a small laugh escaping. "I'm fine, truly. I could climb a mountain if needed."
Arvin's chuckle rumbled low, warm and genuine, lighting his eyes with amusement. He adored this side of her—the spark of playfulness peeking through her reserve. Love for her stirred deep in his chest, a secret flame he yearned to voice, yet the timing eluded him, tangled in the webs of duty and decorum.
After breakfast, Arvin rose from his chair, extending his hand to Mirha with a courteous nod. 'Allow me to escort you back to your chambers,' he said, his voice steady yet laced with an undercurrent of reluctance to part so soon.
She placed her fingers in his palm, the warmth of his skin sending a subtle shiver up her arm. As they walked the sunlit corridors, he continued, 'I'll need to return to the Imperial Palace later today for council matters, but I'll be back by evening—unless the day exhausts me beyond measure.'
Mirha listened attentively, her head dipping in a soft nod. The separation didn't trouble her; the promise of his return was enough to ease any fleeting unease.
They reached her chambers all too quickly. She halted at the threshold, turning to face him directly. Arvin's gaze locked onto hers, drinking in the flush on her cheeks, the way her emerald gown clung to her form. Without a second thought, Mirha leaned in, pressing a feather-light kiss to the corner of his mouth. 'Good day, Your Majesty,' she whispered, her smile shy but genuine.
His pulse thundered in his ears, a rush of heat surging through him. In an instant, he pinned her against the cool stone wall, the impact firm but not bruising. Mirha's eyes widened in shock, words of apology forming on her tongue—
But Arvin silenced her with his mouth, claiming her lips in a fierce, devouring kiss. His hands slid around her waist, pulling her flush against him, fingers digging into the silk at her sides. Her palms, initially braced on his arms, slid upward to encircle his neck, drawing him closer as he erased every inch of space between their bodies.
They kissed with raw urgency, breaths mingling in hot gasps, tongues tangling until the world narrowed to the press of lips and the scrape of teeth. Finally, Arvin broke away, his chest heaving as he searched her face. Mirha dropped her gaze, her teeth catching her lower lip—the one he'd just nipped and sucked swollen.
'Oh, Lord help me,' he groaned, the words a ragged plea against her skin. Seizing her hand, he tugged her inside the room, the door swinging shut behind them.
The chamber was dim, heavy velvet curtains drawn tight against the midday light, casting shadows that danced across the ornate furnishings. Arvin kicked the door closed and backed her against it once more, his lips crashing into hers again. The kiss deepened, hands roaming with desperate need—he paused only to yank his shirt over his head, tossing it aside.
Mirha's breath hitched at the sight of him: broad chest rising and falling, muscles etched from years of training, the sharp V of his hips disappearing into his trousers. A fresh wave of arousal flooded her core, her pussy clenching as slick heat soaked through her folds, trickling down to dampen her inner thighs.
He captured her mouth anew, his fingers working the ties of her gown with urgent precision. Fabric whispered as it loosened, his lips trailing fire along her neck, sucking at the pulse point while their breaths came in shared, labored pants. Scooping her into his arms, he carried her to the master bed, the massive four-poster draped in silken sheets.
There, he peeled the gown from her waist, letting it pool at her feet. He froze, eyes raking over her naked form—soft curves glowing in the low light, skin like fresh cream, her breasts full and inviting with nipples peaked into tight buds.
She was a vision, yielding and ethereal. Leaning down, he took one nipple between his lips, tongue swirling before he sucked hard, drawing a sharp moan from her throat. Pleasure spiked through Mirha, her heartbeat throbbing in her clit, a insistent ache building until she craved him inside her. Her fingers twisted into his hair, holding him there as he lavished attention on her breast, teeth grazing the sensitive peak.
Arvin pulled back, standing to shed his trousers. His cock sprang free, thick and long, veins pulsing along its length, the head already glistening with pre-cum. Mirha inhaled sharply, her chest tightening with a mix of fear and fierce want—its girth promised stretch and burn, especially for her untouched body.
He returned to her, cupping her face as he kissed her tenderly, aware of the pain to come. 'This will hurt,' he murmured against her lips, his voice rough with restraint.
'Please,' she breathed, the word a desperate beg for him to fill her, to end the torment of emptiness.
Positioning himself between her thighs, he nudged the broad tip against her soaked entrance, coating himself in her wetness. 'I'm sorry,' he whispered, then thrust forward in one deep, unyielding push.
Mirha gasped, the sudden intrusion stealing her breath—no scream escaped, but a hiss tore from her lips as her walls clamped around him, stretching to accommodate his size. Tremors wracked her body, pain mingling with the overwhelming fullness, and she clutched him fiercely, nails biting into his shoulders as she held.
Finally, Arvin had claimed her completely, buried balls-deep in her virgin heat. He didn't pull back; instead, he dipped his head to her neck, lips brushing her pulse point before sucking hard, leaving a fresh mark. 'Relax, Mirha,' he whispered against her skin, his voice a low growl. 'Relax for me.' He started moving slowly, shallow rocks of his hips that dragged his cock along her sensitive inner walls. She was impossibly tight, her pussy gripping him like a vice, milking him with every involuntary spasm.
Her tremors began to ease, the initial agony fading into a deep, throbbing ache. Arvin felt it—the way her body softened beneath him—and he gradually picked up the pace, thrusting deeper, harder. He pulled back just enough to gaze at her face, concern flickering in his dark eyes. Tears streamed from her squeezed-shut lids, her lower lip caught between her teeth, bitten raw.
To pull her from the pain, Arvin reached down, his large hands cupping her full breasts. His fingers found her stiff nipples, pinching and twisting them firmly, rolling the sensitive peaks until they hardened further under his touch. It worked like fire—Mirha's breath hitched, the sting in her chest sparking a fresh wave of heat between her legs. The desperate hunger from before surged back, her pussy fluttering around his invading cock, the friction now sending sparks of pleasure through her veins as he rubbed against every ridge and spot inside her.
Arvin leaned close to her ear, his hot breath fanning her skin. 'Good girl,' he praised, feeling how her walls pulsed and squeezed his shaft, drawing him in deeper. 'You're taking my cock so well, milking it just right.' Emboldened, he ramped up his speed, hips snapping forward with controlled force, his balls slapping against her ass with each plunge.
Mirha couldn't hold back the moans spilling from her lips—they grew louder, more frantic, echoing off the chamber walls. The world blurred; she forgot the emperor's bed, the palace, everything but the relentless pounding of his cock stretching her, filling her completely. Pleasure coiled tight in her belly, building to a shattering peak. As her orgasm crashed over her, her pussy convulsed wildly around him, juices gushing out to soak his thighs.
But Arvin pulled out abruptly, leaving her empty and aching, a frustrated whimper escaping her. Before she could protest, he snatched a pillow from the headboard and shoved it under her hips, flipping her onto her stomach with effortless strength. Her ass lifted high, pussy exposed and glistening. She barely registered the shift before he gripped her hips and drove back in, the new angle making her cry out as his cock hit deeper, the sting of re-entry quickly drowned by overwhelming bliss.
This position was devastating—his shaft dragged against her front wall with every thrust, hitting that sweet spot that made stars explode behind her eyes. Tears of pure ecstasy streamed down her face as she sobbed into the sheets, her body rocking forward with the force of his pounding. Arvin fisted a handful of her long hair, yanking her head back to arch her spine, and went feral. His growls rumbled deep in his chest, hips pistoning like a machine, fucking her raw and without mercy.
Mirha's moans turned to screams of pleasure, her pussy clenching rhythmically as another climax ripped through her. She bucked instinctively, trying to crawl away from the intensity, but Arvin's free hand pressed her face into the mattress, holding her down. 'Stay put,' he snarled, fucking her straight through the waves, his cock swelling thicker inside her spasming channel. He didn't stop, driving into her again and again until his own release hit, hot spurts of cum flooding her depths for the third time that night.
He kept going, flipping her positions, bending her over the edge of the bed, spreading her legs wide—each round more savage than the last. Mirha lost track of her orgasms; they blurred into one endless haze of ecstasy, her body quaking, pussy overflowing with their mixed fluids. By the fourth time Arvin came, she was a boneless mess, her walls so sensitive every thrust bordered on agony and rapture.
Finally, he pulled out with a wet pop, his cock glistening with their cum. Her pussy gaped slightly, creamy seed leaking out in thick rivulets down her thighs. Arvin collapsed beside her, chest heaving, pulling her limp form against him. Exhaustion claimed Mirha almost instantly; she drifted into a deep, sated sleep in his arms.
She stirred later when warm water lapped at her skin. Blinking awake, she found Arvin in the bathing room, a basin of steaming water in hand, gently wiping her clean. The maids bustled in the background, tidying the wrecked chambers, but he waved them off, insisting on tending to her himself. His touch was tender now, soaping her sore pussy, rinsing away the evidence of their passion with careful strokes.
Once she was fresh, he scooped her up effortlessly, cradling her against his chest as he carried her back to the bed. The sheets were changed, cool and inviting. He slid in beside her, drawing her close, and they both surrendered to sleep, the afternoon sun filtering through the curtains as their bodies entwined in peaceful repose.