Page 55 of The Slave in A Princess Disguise

"It feels... it feels," she cried out, writhing. Sensation coursed through her, only heightening with every hard tug of his mouth.

He pulled back, his eyes dark with lust. "Offer them to me,"

"I don't..." Emeriel faltered.

"Touch them. Hold them out," a soft command, his voice filled with hunger.

A thrill of excitement shot through her. With light and shy caresses, she touched her own breasts, something she had never done with such intent before. Always, they had to be wrapped up and hidden away.

Now, under the weight of his gaze following her every move, she ran her hands across her breasts. Fueled by her deep-seateddesire to please him, she cupped them, presenting her bosoms to him as if they were sacred offerings to the gods.

Her movements were innocent and hesitant, her face painted with a deep blush that cascaded down to her neck.

Here," she whispered, her eyes downcast. "For you, Your Grace."

The king snarled, attacking them.

His mouth worked ardently—licking, laving, and sucking.

Emeriel sobbed as he alternated his attentions between her breasts, lavishing them with a force that left her crying out breathlessly.

As pleasure pulsed through her veins like a powerful current, tension spiraled within her. Her own breaths were thunderously loud in her ears as her fingers clamped onto his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh.

In a torrent of cries and shudders, she fell over the edge, her legs buckling beneath her. But his strong hands were there, lifting and supporting her weight.

"Such a good girl," he praised.

With an obscene pop, he released her red, abused nipples before neatly rearranging her clothing with hurried, graceful movements, restoring her modesty. "Such a good girl," he praised.

Satisfaction surged within her, a warm, heady feeling that made her glow.

But no sooner had he secured her tender breasts back under her garments, his head snapped up, alert. His ears twitched, attuned to a sound only he could perceive.

"Herod is on his way."

Amidst the silence of the forest, save for Emeriel's ragged breaths and the distant hooting of owls, the king gently lowered her to the base of the tree, his face mere inches from hers.

"I must be on my way," King Daemonikai's eyes held a tenderness she had never seen before. "This was not my intention when I sought you out for your scent, young princess. Forgive me."

I am yours."There is nothing to forgive." Emeriel drank in the sight of him. She could gaze into his eyes forever. "Are you sleeping better now?"

He shook his head, his expression turning grim. "I do not sleep. But some hells are preferable to others."

It was the same cryptic answer he had given her in the garden. A pang of sadness pierced her heart.

"You cannot go without sleep forever, Your Grace. Even beings as resilient as your kind have limits."

He simply stood, a towering figure silhouetted against the moonlit sky. With one last, lingering look, he disappeared into the night.

"Emeriel?" Lord Herod's voice called out, moments later emerging from shadows. “There you are. I hope I didn't keep you waiting long."

"Not at all," Emeriel managed a sad smile, shaking her head. As she walked off with Lord Herod, she looked back for another glimpse of her king.

But he was long gone.

Three days later,

The sisters moved through their daily routine with practiced ease. Aekeira tended to the livestock in the ranches while Emeriel nurtured the gardens. Their duties often intertwined, allowing them to work side-by-side.

---