I had expected that night to be just another of the Queen's games. That she might involve Mary, maybe even Sabrina. But that night felt different. The Queen had other plans.
When I stepped out of the bath, my body still warm, I went straight to bed. And there she was. Alone.
In the dim light of the tent, lit only by the flickering glow of dozens of candles, she looked ethereal. The tent had been magically expanded and equipped with all the luxuries royalty could demand.
She lay there, waiting for me. Her body was covered only by a nearly transparent white silk babydoll that stood out against the shadows of the room and left little to the imagination. The candles cast warm, dancing shadows over her curves, enhancing the sensuality of her figure with a beauty that was both sacred and profane.
Incense burned slowly in the corner of the tent, releasing a soft, intoxicating floral scent, probably jasmine. The Queen knew how to set the mood. She was a master of seduction.
I lay down beside her. For a long moment, we didn't exchange a single word. We simply looked at each other. Our eyes said more than any conversation could. It was as if we both knew that this moment held something more, something rare, a silent trust, a surrender.
She was beautiful. Beautiful in a way that hurt. Her skin was pale as ivory but warm to the touch. Her cheeks naturally flushed, even without makeup. She needed no adornments, her presence alone could enchant anyone.
Her long, silver hair, smooth as moonlight, cascaded over her shoulders, partially covering her pointed ears. Her red eyes, deep, hypnotic, held something ancient, as if they carried centuries of wisdom and desire. And her lips... red, full, inviting. They seemed custom-made for sin.
I moved closer, ran my hand along her delicate jawline, brushing her hair away from her face and neck. I felt the fine hairs on her shoulder stand on end at my touch. It was amazing how even the Queen, so powerful and imposing, could react like a lovestruck girl to a simple caress.
I gently held her neck, feeling the pulse beneath my palm. I leaned in and kissed her mouth.
The kiss began slowly, tender, almost shy. But within seconds, it transformed. It became an explosion of desire, a plunge with no return. Our tongues met, entwining in a hot, fierce dance, fighting and celebrating at once. A blissful battle from which we both emerged victorious.
My hands explored her curves. She responded with sharp nails that marked my skin, scratching my back as if to claim me for herself. Our legs tangled, our bodies aligned naturally, like puzzle pieces falling into place.
I helped her sit up and slid her babydoll off her shoulders, removing it completely. She, in turn, pulled my shirt off and tossed it aside without hurry, like unwrapping a gift she already knew but never tired of.
I gently threw her back onto the bed and began to kiss her body. First her lips, then her chin, her neck, her chest. Like a worshiper adoring his goddess. My kisses traveled down to her breasts, which I kissed with both tenderness and desire. I continued to her stomach, her hips, to the most sensitive spots that drew gasps and moans from her lips.
She arched beneath my touch, gripped the sheets, tugged at my hair. Her skin responded to my tongue, and I could feel her excitement building with every second. It was as if her soul vibrated with her body.
I stood at the edge of the bed and pulled her thighs toward me, positioning her before me. She was completely exposed, vulnerable, surrendered. And yet her gaze was the opposite, fierce, hungry, demanding. She wanted me. And I wanted her even more.
I entered her in one motion, without ceremony, with firm intent. The heat that enveloped me was intense, wet, absolute. It was like being welcomed into a sacred sanctuary.
Our bodies moved together in rhythm, driven by desire. She moaned loudly, then screamed, unashamed. Her breathing grew faster and deeper. I felt the sweat dripping from our skin, our scents mingling.
Then she pushed me back, taking control with force. She climbed on top of me and rode me with precision and instinct. Her hips moved masterfully, sending waves of pleasure that threatened to unravel me. Each movement was a deliberate strike against my remaining self-control.
She wrapped her hand around my neck. A gesture that in any other context might be aggressive, here felt like an extension of intimacy. The closer we got to climax, the tighter her grip—like she wanted to keep me locked in that moment.
When she finally reached her peak, a scream tore from her throat. A primal, beautiful, liberating sound. Her body trembled above mine, and I felt a wave of heat enveloping us, as if the whole world had poured into us.
Exhausted, she collapsed on top of me. Our sweaty bodies, our hearts pounding. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and gently ran my fingers through her hair in silence.
"You were amazing today" she whispered in my ear with a satisfied smile.
"You're always amazing," I replied, kissing her forehead.
"You were now too, but I was talking about the fight earlier," she clarified, still breathless.
I had a feeling it was something like that. I knew it wasn't just the new technique I had discovered. There was something more. Something I didn't yet fully understand.
"Are you going to tell me what I did to deserve a gift like this?" I asked, teasingly.
"One day. When the time is right," she answered with a smile. "But for now, get ready, because once wasn't even close to enough."
And so we continued. The night stretched on for hours. We made love as if time had stopped. As if the outside world didn't exist.
Usually, by the end, we each went to our own bed. But that night, we slept together. For the first time, we woke still wrapped in each other's arms, our bodies entwined, as if the universe had conspired to make us one.
And needless to say, before the sun rose, or whatever marked the passing of time in that dungeon, we went again. With even more intensity.