The Devil's Betrothed
Chapter 595: Wicked Man

Chapter 595: Wicked Man

Holding Oriana steady with a firm grip around her waist, Arlan tugged and bit gently on her lip. Simultaneously, his finger slipped inside her, causing her to squirm in his lap as an erotic moan escaped her throat. Releasing her lips, he watched intently as his finger moved skillfully within her.

Her eyes met his, filled with a mix of embarrassment and desire. Despite the vulnerability of being watched, she clung to him tightly, her legs parting instinctively to grant him better access.

"You seem to enjoy this," he murmured against her gasping mouth. "How about something more?"

Her response was a louder gasp, one that could be heard over the sound of the carriage and horses outside. Another of his fingers slipped inside her, driving her wild and making her lose all rational thought.

"Arlan..." she nearly screamed as she felt his fingers stretch her, pleasuring her in just the right way.

"Shh! We don’t want the people along the streets to hear you."

Oriana pressed her lips into a thin line, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hold back for long. "How... long until we arrive..." she asked, struggling to maintain composure amidst his relentless teasing. Those damn fingers of his felt like they were opening the gates of heaven.

"By the time you can’t walk anymore," he replied, quickening his pace.

"Arlan... I can’t..." she whispered, her breath coming in heavy gasps. "...They’ll hear me..."

"You can find ways to stay quiet," he said, intensifying his fingers’ movements inside her.

This wicked man!

He was pushing her to the edge, teasing her to moan while warning her to stay silent. Was he playing with her?

She clutched his clothes, pulling him closer, and kissed him, needing something to muffle her voice. "Kiss me," she pleaded desperately.

She swore she felt his lips curve into a wicked smirk before he kissed her, suppressing her moans and simultaneously elevating her pleasure to new heights.

"There... feels... good..." she whispered, her voice a desperate plea for more.

Arlan let go of her lips and withdrew his fingers, earning an angry glare from her. Her eyes flashed with a hint of darkness.

"Patience, Oriana," Arlan whispered against her lips, not wanting the demoness within her to surface. Today, he wanted his Oriana, not the demoness hiding behind physical desires. Calling her name was intentional, a reminder that she was Oriana and not Esmeray.

The darkness in her eyes faded as she looked at him, puzzled as to why he had stopped. The next moment, she got her answer. His hands gripped her waist, easily turning her over his lap until her back was pressed against his chest. He lifted her legs, resting her sandals clad feet on the seat opposite them.

"What are you doing..." she whispered anxiously, unfamiliar with his intentions.

"Making it more comfortable for you, for us," he whispered back, his lips brushing her earlobe.

His hands parted her legs, lifting her dress above her thighs, leaving them entirely exposed to their gazes.

The back of his fingers brushed against her exposed, fair thighs as he whispered again, "You have beautiful legs, Oriana."

Though aroused, she found her position absurd and tried to lower her legs, but he warned, "Don’t." Though a whisper, his voice carried authority, "Or you won’t get what you want." As he spoke, his hand made its way between her thighs, causing her to freeze once more.

She forgot about her legs being exposed in an unsightly way in the broad daylight and inside the moving carriage which was riding on the roads of capitals full of people.

His other hand pulled her already loosened dress below her shoulder, planting a gentle kiss on it, as if appreciating her obedience. His hand between her thighs resumed its work as he spoke, "Making you wait any longer would be a sin."

His fingers slipped inside her once more, making her squirm with pleasure. Her back pressed hard against his chest as her head tilted back to rest on his shoulder.

She realized he was right about this position. It was more comfortable. Despite the overwhelming pleasure, she made a mental note- to obey him when he asked her to do something.

While his fingers continued their relentless rhythm, his free hand gently turned her face to the side so he could kiss her, his own breathing ragged as he watched her in this aroused state. Her moans were muffled by the kiss, and his hand slipped from her face to her mounds, still covered by her dress. His large hand worked on them, adding to the pleasure she was already experiencing.

Her hand moved back to hold him closer for the kiss, while her other hand clutched his palm as it pleased her bosom. The carriage was filled with muffled erotic sounds, the atmosphere growing hotter despite the winter chill outside.

Soon, her body trembled violently as waves of intense pleasure engulfed her entirely, his name leaving her mouth like a sweet chant. Breathing heavily, she closed her eyes, letting herself drown in the overwhelming sensations.

Arlan allowed her to calm down, dipping his head into the crook of her neck and peppering gentle kisses on her moist skin. He inhaled her scent, which always seemed more intense whenever they were intimate.

Once her breathing had almost calmed and she allowed her body to rest against his, she heard him say, "Do not even think about sleeping."

She snapped back to her senses. "I wasn’t. I was just resting a little."

"Am I a mattress?"

"No... Ahh..."

He moved her again, this time turning her around to straddle him, her legs folded at the knees and resting on either side of him on the cushioned seat. As she faced him, he took in her sight: her flushed face, exposed neck and shoulders, covered in a thin sheen of sweat that glistened in the light filtering through the carriage’s glass window, her unkept dress, those beautiful legs and so on...everything about her was enticing.

His hands gripped her bottom, holding her firmly while she clung to his shoulders.

"You know what to do, Oriana," Arlan spoke, his intense gaze boring into hers. "It’s your turn now."

"M-My turn?"

"Don’t always be on the receiving end," he said, a evil smirk playing on his lips. "I believe in equality."

She tried to feign ignorance, but she knew he would use bold words to make her understand clearly instead of giving her any leeway.

She looked down between them, her hands moving towards his pants. As her dress bunched around her waist, Arlan, showing remarkable restraint in not tearing it away, decided to help her by unbuttoning his pants.

While his hands held her body steady in the moving carriage, she found her movements easier and touched him. A groan escaped his lips as he said, "Hand won’t do."

Oriana gulped, finding herself anticipating something more, just as he was. She wished to take control, to find a way to pleasure both of them.

How had she become so bold? Either the demoness or this horny prince had spoiled her innocent self.

"Help me," she said, lifting her bottom slightly while her hands gripped his shoulders. Arlan didn’t deny her request, understanding the challenge posed by the moving carriage. Though not as comfortable as the soft mattress of their chamber, it was still thrilling and arousing.

Arlan guided her, aligning their bodies. As she slowly lowered herself onto him, both of them gasped in unison, the connection between them electric. She began to move slowly at first, his hands helping her move, finding a rhythm that pleased them both, her confidence growing with every motion and she didn’t need his help to move.

"You are amazing, Oriana," he panted against her lips, capturing her parted mouth in a heated kiss. His hands roamed her body, caressing and gripping, enhancing the pleasure.

Rip!

His hands tore her dress at the chest, frustrated by the fabric that obscured her beautiful mounds. half of her back was left uncovered, the sleeves of the dress now hung at her elbows.

Another dress was sacrificed with the good intentions of providing more work to the group of dress makers.

One hand rested at the small of her back, supporting her, as he captured her soft peaks in his mouth, his free hand working in unison.

Maintaining her rhythm, she arched her back to give him better way to her chest, her hand gripping the hair at the back of his head. She let herself drown in the pleasure she was bringing to both of them, trying to keep her voice at bay.

The carriage continued its journey, oblivious to the passionate scene within, as they lost themselves in each other, pushing the boundaries of their intimacy.

After a long while, the movement and noises inside the carriage finally ceased. Oriana felt utterly spent, her energy drained from keeping up with such intense movements in the moving carriage, and she let herself fall limp against Arlan.

This time, Arlan didn’t stop her. Instead, he held her closer, trying to calm himself from the intense release he had experienced along with her.

The ride continued in silence until they reached Wildridge Manor.

"Your Highness, we are here," the knight announced.

"Everyone can leave," Arlan ordered.

All the knights and guards around the carriage and in the vicinity were made to retreat. Arlan pulled Oriana’s dress back up to her shoulders, though it barely covered her.

"Have we reached?" Oriana mumbled against his chest, her eyes closed.

"Yes," he replied, removing his already opened jacket and wrapping it around her. "Let me take you inside."

Oriana nodded lazily. Arlan was ready to carry her, but she said, "I can walk."

Arlan stepped down from the carriage first, and Oriana followed. The moment she took a few steps down, her legs felt like they had lost all strength.

Arlan managed to catch her and carried her without another word. "I told you, we would reach here by the time you couldn’t walk."

Her already flushed face turned red. He was indeed the man of his words.

There was no knight or servant in sight as Arlan carried her inside the manor. While letting him do so, she asked, "Why didn’t we just teleport?"

"Using magic for everything tends to take away such precious moments. I would rather carry you than teleport."

Oriana smiled lightly as she watched his handsome face, which looked even more enticing in the state she had turned him into. His shirt and hair were disheveled, but somehow she found him more tempting this way.

Arlan looked into her eyes and felt relived. Entire time she was his Oriana and not Esmeray. There was no darkness in her eyes after that single moment of anger she felt.