Lysara Baratheon stood before her mirror, fingers deftly unclasping the emerald necklace from her throat. The midnight blue gown clung to her like a second skin, its silk whispering against her skin as she set the jewels aside. The feast ball had been a blur of leering eyes, but none burned quite like the ones she had felt all evening.
A sharp knock echoed through her chamber. She turned, gray eyes narrowing, as the door opened without waiting. Ser Alaric Blackwood stepped inside, all black leather and calculating shadow, his dark eyes fixed on her with predatory intent. "You've been watching me all night," she said, voice laced with challenge, not invitation. "Bold, even for a man who pretends indifference."
Alaric closed the door, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "The dress is unfair, Lysara. It makes men dream of wars they'd never win. I am done pretending I do not want you." He crossed the room in two strides, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was equal parts hunger and demand. Her hands fisted in his black tunic, pulling him closer as witty retort melted into a gasp. "Then prove it, Blackwood. Or are you all cold calculation?"
He answered by spinning her gently against the bedpost, hands roaming the curve of her ass through the silk. "First time?" he murmured against her neck, teeth grazing. She nodded, strong and unyielding even as heat pooled between her thighs. "Then I will not break you... yet." Alaric shed his clothes with efficient grace, revealing a hard cock already straining, and lifted her gown to find her wet and dripping.
Lysara pushed him back onto the furs, straddling with a wicked glint. "Careful, ser. I decide the pace." She took him in hand, guiding his thick length to her entrance, sinking down inch by inch with a sharp intake of breath. Pain flickered, then pleasure as her body adjusted, his hands steady on her hips to keep from thrusting too deep too soon. "Gods, you're tight," he panted, sweating as restraint warred with desire.
She rode him slowly at first, pussy clenching around his cock, building to a rhythm that had them both panting. "More," she demanded, voice husky, and Alaric flipped her beneath him, driving harder now that her walls welcomed him. He claimed her ass in firm grips, thrusting deep until she came with a cry, her release dripping down his shaft. He followed soon after, spilling hot cum inside her with a guttural groan.
Alaric withdrew, pressing a kiss to her sweat-slicked brow, but his eyes promised darker games ahead. "This changes everything, my fierce Baratheon."
And as dawn threatened the horizon, neither could guess how far their hunger would drag them into the night.
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