The moment the office door snicked shut, it was as if the rest of the world vanished—no council, no fiancé, no looming responsibilities, just the wild hum of anticipation in the air, the echo of what had just happened beneath the desk still buzzing in Lara's veins.
She barely had time to lean back in Sarisa's chair before Sarisa was on her, swift and intent, straddling Lara's lap and pinning her to the seat.
The desk jostled, scattering parchment. Lara's mouth curled in a lazy, hungry smile. "Not even a hello?"
Sarisa's answer was a hot, breathless kiss that tasted of spice and tea and the secret knowledge that, behind every closed door, they were something truer than royal, something honest and hungry and real.
Lara tangled her fingers in Sarisa's hair, half-dazed, half-certain this was a dream she'd refuse to wake from.
"So the princess wants to play, does she?" she murmured against Sarisa's lips, loving the way Sarisa's breath stuttered, the way her hands found Lara's shoulders and clung.
Sarisa's eyes glittered, fierce and determined. "No. The princess wants to win."
She reached past Lara, grabbing the enchanted box from the drawer and pulling out a shimmering, rune-etched condom.
She didn't hand it over, didn't ask. Instead, she tore it open with her teeth—cheeky, almost feral—and rolled it down over Lara's already hard cock with slow, practiced hands.
Lara shivered, her breath hitching. "You're in a mood," she teased, voice low.
Sarisa's lips brushed her ear. "You made me wait all day. You're lucky I let you finish the paperwork at all."
Lara let her hands roam over Sarisa's thighs, fingers slipping beneath the layers of silk and velvet, seeking bare skin. "Is this how you discipline your bodyguard now, Princess?"
"Only when she's insubordinate." Sarisa rocked her hips, grinding down just enough to make Lara groan—quiet, desperate, trying not to lose control too soon.
With deft, commanding movements, Sarisa reached between them, guiding Lara inside her with a hiss of breath, her nails leaving crescents in Lara's shoulders.
She moved slowly at first, rolling her hips in teasing, infuriating circles, making Lara bite back curses and laughter.
"I could get used to this," Lara said, voice ragged. "The bossy future queen."
Sarisa arched a brow, lips parting in a smirk. "Shut up and make me forget the world."
And so Lara did—hands bracing Sarisa's hips, mouth on her neck, teeth and tongue drawing shivers from the princess's skin.
Sarisa set the pace, demanding and deliberate, her head thrown back in utter abandon as she rode Lara, each movement driving them both higher.
The only sounds were ragged breaths, the wet, hungry sounds of skin meeting skin, and the soft squeak of leather against wood as the chair strained under their passion.
Lara managed a chuckle, even as her vision blurred with pleasure. "We're going to break this chair."
"Then we'll use the desk," Sarisa replied, wicked. "Or the floor. Or—gods, Lara—don't stop—"
Lara caught her in another kiss, open-mouthed and messy, hands everywhere—spine, thighs, the delicate line of Sarisa's jaw, reverent and greedy at once.
Sarisa tightened around her, and Lara felt herself fracturing, fighting to stay quiet.
"You're beautiful," Lara whispered, unable to help herself, even as she pressed her face to Sarisa's neck, tasting sweat and perfume. "You're—gods, Sarisa, I—"
Sarisa bit her lip, eyes wild. "Don't you dare say it. Just—more. Harder."
She moved faster, grinding down with frantic urgency. Lara tried to keep up, tried to match her, tried not to give in too soon.
The tension snapped between them—Sarisa shuddered, arching, her whole body trembling with release.
Lara held her close, following her over the edge, shivering in the aftermath as their heartbeats thundered together.
They stayed like that for a while, tangled and breathless, savoring the stolen moment.
Then Sarisa smirked, rolling off Lara's lap, fixing her hair and smoothing her dress with the practiced nonchalance of a princess who'd just had the most un-princesslike tryst imaginable.
Lara pulled herself together—barely—zipping up and making a halfhearted attempt to straighten her uniform.
Sarisa, now flushed and radiant, fished out another condom from the enchanted box, waving it with a sly grin. "Might need a few more of these before the night is over."
Lara just grinned back, voice rough. "You keep that box close, Your Highness."
Before Sarisa could reply, there was a sharp, official-sounding knock at the door. Both froze—heartbeat wild, clothes in disarray.
"Dinner is served!" called a guard from the hall, voice echoing through the wood.
Sarisa and Lara exchanged a look—a silent promise, a secret laughter, a shared, breathless anticipation of every wild, forbidden thing still left undone.
And with that, they straightened themselves one last time, ready to step out into the waiting world—still glowing, still trembling, still hungry for each other and whatever chaos the night would bring.