Chapter 7 #2
Aldric folded his arms and glanced down at his boots as if inspecting an imaginary speck of dust.
Dismissive.
“Do I need to explain,” he added lightly, “how… capricious the princess can be?”
The guards exchanged a glance.
The older one grimaced slightly.
The expression carried the unmistakable look of someone remembering a very loud, very dramatic incident.
“…Apologies, sir?”
“Aldric,” he replied.
They stepped aside at once.
He passed through the doors, pulse still racing, breath a little faster than he liked.
The anger hadn’t fully faded.
It lingered.
Coiled.
Then he saw her.
And his mind went completely, utterly blank.
His mouth went dry.
She looked… unreal.
White curls cascaded down her back in soft, untamed waves. Her wings were half-folded, relaxed but alert, while her tail swayed lazily behind her. Dusky violet skin glowed faintly beneath the low lights, warm and luminous.
A vision.
A goddess.
Black high heels laced tightly up her calves, elegant and dangerous all at once.
Her dress.
Gods.
Black leather, impossibly thin and gleaming. Backless, held together by nothing but a few delicate straps crossing her spine. Obscenely short. Barely decent. Barely covering her ass.
And devastating.
The effect was immediate.
Palpable.
No one dared approach her.
She stood alone at the bar, resting on her forearms, long legs fully on display. Fingers traced idle circles around her glass, stirring the drink absently.
Unbothered.
Untouchable.
Waiting.
For him.
Everything else fell away.
The noise.
The crowd.
The lingering anger in his chest.
Only she remained.
And he had no intention of wasting a second.
He slid in beside her slowly.
“Excuse me, madam,” he said gravely, resting one elbow against the bar. “Do you come here often?”
Seraphae’s lips twitched.
She bit down on them, trying, and failing, to stay composed. Her gaze darted away. A soft giggle slipped out despite herself.
Then she turned.
Slowly. Theatrically.
Until her back pressed against the bar.
Her elbows propped behind her, arching just enough to be utterly unfair as she tossed her hair in a flawless, dramatic sweep.
“Oh, I dooo,” she purred, chin lifting. “But I’m not sure you’d be able to handle me, sir…?”
Aldric’s mouth curved into a smirk.
“You can call me Sir Knight.”
Her composure shattered instantly.
She burst out laughing, bending forward, shoulders shaking. One hand flew up to cover her mouth, eyes bright and helplessly amused.
“Gods, Aldric—stop,” she wheezed. “We’re trying to role-play and be sexy.”
He only chuckled and signaled the bartender for a drink.
Seraphae’s laughter slowed. Her eyes lit up as the glass was set down, attention snapping right back to him.
Sharp, hungry, appreciative.
“Oh, you look so handsome,” she murmured, dragging her gaze over him. “I can’t wait to feel you inside me…” She leaned in, lips brushing his jaw, a kiss ghosted along his neck. “…and have you feed me like you always do.”
His rough hands came up, slow and deliberate. They settled at her waist, his fingers splaying possessively over the curve of her hip through the thin leather of her dress. His touch was a brand, steady and sure.
They weren’t alone.
Around them, demons lounged in shadowed corners and clustered along velvet benches. Laughing, whispering, touching. Hands wandered. Lips brushed. Soft, heated moans blended with music and clinking glasses. Desire lingered openly in the air, thick and unapologetic.
Debauchery was nothing unusual here.
And yet—
There was something especially thrilling about this.
About standing so close in public.
About being in the open where anyone could see.
A quiet, delicious rebellion.
Lewd.
Intimate.
“With this outfit,” his voice a low, rumbling vibration, “I think I’ll need to make sure that you’re filled up. Properly.” He paused, letting the promise hang. “In each. Of. Your. Tight. Holes.”
There was something strangely calming about being this direct.
About letting his mind focus on one simple, indulgent thought.
Everything else, the brand, the looming war, the palace, the exile from Isendor, faded into the background.
For once, his mind was quiet.
The only thing left in it was the golden-eyed, smiling succubus standing in front of him.
And the promise of the night ahead.
Right now, she was all he wanted.
All he needed.
A delighted shiver ran through her body, violent and immediate. Her eyes got brighter, hungrier.
She stepped into him, closing the final distance. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her pelvis nudging his thigh.
“Mmph, you’re making me so horny when you talk like that…” she breathed, rubbing herself against him in a slow grind.
A slow, wicked smile touched his lips.
“Gods… you look so delicious.”
His hand moved with deliberate intention. It slid from her hip, over the flare of her ass, and down. His fingers found the hem of her leather dress.
He din’t bother pushing it up.
He simply felt her.
The black silk panties were already soaked, the fabric clinging to her lips, her juice leaking in a hot, slick trail down her inner thigh.
He made a low, approving sound.
He gathered her sweetness on his fingertips, gently moved the panties to the side, only to find her pussy.
The middle and ring finger slid in one smooth, luxurious thrust.
A soft, broken moan escaped her.
Her head fell forward, her forehead resting against his shoulder. Her hands came up, splaying against his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt.
She looked up, bit her lip and gave him the look.
The look that only foreshadowed what was to come.
“I love these panties,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His fingers began the massage inside her, a slow, curling motion that stroked her deepest walls.
She could only whimper, her hips pushing against his hand, seeking more.
He worked her with relentless, knowing precision.
Soft, breathy pants escaped her lips, little gasps of pleasure pulled from her with every stroke.
As she was starting to get used to the rhythm—
He took them out.
The sudden emptiness made her pout in protest.
Her eyes, lust-hazed and desperate.
“Open.”
The command was soft, absolute.
Her mouth opened on instinct, lips parting.
His glistening fingers touched her lips—
Then slipped inside, pressing against her tongue.
Her own taste.
A low, needy sound vibrated in her throat. Her eyes locked on his as she began to lick them clean, her tongue swirling around each digit, sucking the flavor of her own arousal from his skin.
“There you go,” he said, his gaze dark and heated. “Do you like your own taste?”
She nodded, a frantic, eager motion as she kept licking, cleaning every trace from his fingers.
One of her hands slid lower, down the front of his trousers.
She found the hard, thick line of his cock straining against the fabric.
Her palm started kneading the bulge through the material, gently pressing, curling around his girth in the most delightful, teasing way.
He groaned.
He pulled his fingers from her mouth.
Their lips met.
Deep.
Hot.
His tongue plunged into her mouth, claiming it, tangling with hers.
She still tasted herself, a sweet, intoxicating cocktail.
“Let’s change the scenery,” he whispered against her lips.
She didn’t argue.
He took her hand, his fingers lacing tightly with hers, and led her away from the lounge.
A giddy, breathless giggle bubbled out of her.
They slipped into a shadowed alcove, a recess between two towering columns. It was half-hidden from the lounge, a pocket of intimate darkness. The light from a single lantern didn’t reach the back.
He pulled her closer.
His mouth was demanding.
Hard.
Possessive.
Both of his hands went underneath her dress, lifting the black leather up. He kneaded her bare ass, his palms hot and rough against her smooth skin. He cupped it from below, lifting her, pressing her into him, grinding the hard ridge of his cock against her damp panties.
Seraphae broke the kiss, her breath coming in warm, quick puffs against his lips.
“Ohhh, well,” she whispered, a deliriously happy smile on her swollen mouth. “That escalated exactly how I hoped. I swear—mmph—”
He didn’t let her finish.
The kiss swallowing her words.
His hands came up, one tangling in her silken white hair, the other gripping the base of one horn. He didn’t pull, but the hold was firm, controlling. He guided her mouth down, breaking the kiss, urging her to her knees.
Her eyes widened, then hooded with utter submission and blazing excitement. She went willingly, the soft rug cushioning her knees. Her hands went to his belt, her fingers nimble and quick.
The buckle opened.
She freed him.
His cock sprang out, thick and veined.
Already leaking.
She didn’t wait for a command.
Her lips parted.
She took just the head into her mouth, tongue just gliding the underside, lapping up the salty pre-cum.
A low, guttural groan tore from Aldric’s throat.
His body started to relax.
Her throat worked him, a slow, worshipful rhythm, her head bobbing, her lips stretched taut around his girth.
One of her hands came up to cradle his balls, rolling the heavy sac gently.
The other hand reached between her own legs, pushing her soaked panties aside.
Her fingers found her clit, already throbbing, and began to circle in time with the motions of her mouth.
The dual sensation was overwhelming.
The taste of him, the feel of him hitting the back of her throat, the building tension in her own core. She moaned around him, the vibration making his thighs tremble.
“That’s it,” he growled, his voice strained. “Use that pretty throat like the good girl you are.”
A soft needy moan escaped her mouth.
The praise made her redouble her efforts, taking him deeper, sloppier.
She was swallowing him, her throat working, milking him with each pull. Saliva dripped from her lips, coating his cock, making lewd, wet sounds that echoed in the secluded alcove.
He started to come in her mouth.