The Extra's Rise
Chapter 685: Crimson Desire (2) [R18]

Chapter 685: Crimson Desire (2) [R18]

Arthur’s teasing voice cuts through the haze of desire, his blue eyes glinting with mischief as he pulls back just enough to leave me wanting. “Will Her Highness do the honor?” he says, his tone low and taunting, a smirk playing on his lips. My crimson eyes narrow, but the heat pooling in my core betrays me. I’m still fighting for control, even as my body sings for him, craving the surrender he’s coaxing out of me.

I don’t answer with words. Instead, I sink to my knees, my golden hair spilling over my shoulders as I look up at him, holding his gaze. My fingers work his belt loose, the leather sliding free with a soft clink, and I tug his pants down, revealing the hard length of him. My breath catches—Gods, he’s big, and the sight sends a fresh wave of heat through me. I wrap’honneur?” he says, his tone low and taunting, a smirk playing on his lips. My crimson eyes narrow, but the heat pooling in my core betrays me. I’m still fighting for control, even as my body sings for him, craving the surrender he’s coaxing out of me.

I don’t answer with words. Instead, I sink to my knees, my golden hair spilling over my shoulders as I look up at him, holding his gaze. My fingers work his belt loose, the leather sliding free with a soft clink, and I tug his pants down, revealing the hard length of him. My breath catches—Gods, he’s big, and the sight sends a fresh wave of heat through me. I wrap my hand around his cock, feeling its weight, its warmth, and I lean in, my lips brushing the tip in a slow, deliberate kiss.

A low groan rumbles from his chest, and I smile against him, relishing the power I still hold. My tongue traces him, slow and sensual, savoring the way he twitches under my touch. I take him deeper, my lips sliding over his length, my movements deliberate, focused entirely on his pleasure. Arthur’s hand finds my hair, his fingers threading through my golden strands, and he guides me, bobbing my head with a gentle but firm rhythm. The control shifts again, and I let it, moaning softly around him, the vibration drawing another groan from him.

“Fuck, Cecilia,” he mutters, his voice rough, his grip tightening. I glance up, meeting his eyes, and the raw desire there nearly undoes me. But before I lose myself completely, he pulls me back, his hand cupping my cheek. “Not yet,” he says, his voice strained but playful. “Get up here.”

He pulls me to my feet, and I’m barely upright before he’s kissing me again, fierce and hungry, guiding me toward the bed. “On top,” he says, his tone a command wrapped in a challenge. I don’t hesitate, pushing him down onto the velvet sheets and straddling his hips, my nightgown hiked up around my thighs. The silk of my panties brushes against his bare skin, and I roll my hips, grinding against him, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through me. I’m wet already, embarrassingly so, and each slow hump makes me ache for more.

Arthur’s hands grip my hips, guiding my movements, his cock hard against my panties, teasing my entrance through the thin fabric. “You’re soaked,” he murmurs, his voice thick with approval, and I flush, my control slipping further. He reaches between us, his fingers brushing my clit before tugging my panties aside, his cock sliding against my slick folds. The sensation is electric, and I moan, my head tipping back as I rock against him, chasing the pleasure.

“Hold on,” he says, his voice steady despite the tension in his body. He reaches for the bedside table, pulling out a condom. I watch, my breath uneven, as he tears the packet open and rolls it on, his movements quick but deliberate. Then his hands are back on me, guiding me over him, the tip of his cock nudging my entrance. I bite my lip, anticipation curling tight in my belly, knowing he’s about to claim me in a way only he can.

My breath hitches as I lower myself onto Arthur, his cock stretching me in a way that’s both overwhelming and exquisite. His hands grip my hips, steadying me, but I’m the one setting the pace, determined to reclaim some control. My crimson eyes lock with his blue ones, a silent challenge as I roll my hips, slow and deliberate, savoring the way he fills me. The pleasure is sharp, building with every movement, and I bite my lip to stifle a moan, my golden hair swaying with each rise and fall.

“Gods, Cecilia,” Arthur groans, his voice rough, his fingers digging into my skin. I smirk, leaning forward to kiss him, my lips hungry and possessive. My pace quickens, the rhythm growing urgent as I chase the heat coiling in my core. My breasts bounce with each thrust, the silk nightgown long discarded, and Arthur’s eyes darken, drinking in the sight of me. I feel powerful, radiant, riding him with a confidence that makes his breath catch.

But Arthur’s not one to let me dominate for long. His hands slide up my thighs, guiding my movements, and he thrusts up to meet me, hitting a spot that makes me gasp. My control falters, my moans spilling freely now, and I grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as the pleasure crests. “Arthur,” I whimper, my voice breaking as I shatter, my orgasm crashing over me like a wave. My body trembles, clenching around him, and he follows moments later, his groan muffled against my neck as he comes, his grip tightening.

I collapse onto his chest, panting, my skin flushed and slick with sweat. His arms wrap around me, warm and strong, and for a moment, we just lie there, our breaths syncing. But Arthur’s not done. He kisses my temple, his lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Ready for more, Princess?” he teases, already reaching for another condom from the bedside table.

I raise an eyebrow, my competitive streak flaring despite the languid heat in my limbs. “You’re on,” I murmur, my voice husky. He rolls on the new condom, his movements swift, and before I can catch my breath, he flips me onto my back, his body hovering over mine. The shift is sudden, possessive, and I arch into him as he enters me again, the sensation just as intense as before. He thrusts deep, each movement deliberate, his blue eyes burning with intent as he watches my reactions.

We move together, a fierce rhythm that leaves no room for thought, only feeling. My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, my moans mingling with his grunts. The bed creaks under us, the opulent room fading as I lose myself in him. But Arthur’s relentless, changing positions with a strength that makes my head spin. He pulls me to the edge of the bed, my legs over his shoulders, and thrusts harder, the angle making me cry out, my hands fisting the sheets.

Next, he turns me onto my side, one leg lifted, his cock sliding in at a new angle that has me gasping. His hand roams my body, teasing my clit, and I’m unraveling again, my second orgasm building faster than I can handle. “Arthur, I—” My words dissolve into a moan as I come, my body shaking, and he slows, letting me ride it out before pulling me onto all fours.

The new position is raw, primal, and I love it. His hands grip my hips, and he thrusts into me, each movement sending jolts of pleasure through me. My golden hair clings to my back, damp with sweat, and I push back against him, matching his pace. But my stamina’s waning, my body trembling with exhaustion and overstimulation. Arthur senses it, his thrusts slowing, and he leans over me, his lips brushing my ear. “Who can’t keep up?” he whispers, his voice smug but warm, and I laugh breathlessly, too spent to retort.

One final thrust, and he comes again, his groan low and satisfied. I collapse onto the bed, utterly exhausted, my body humming with aftershocks. Arthur disposes of the condom and lies beside me, pulling me into his arms. My head rests on his chest, his heartbeat steady under my cheek, and I feel safe, cherished, despite the playful rivalry.

“We should clean up,” I murmur, but my limbs feel like lead. Arthur chuckles, kissing my forehead before scooping me up, carrying me to the ensuite bathroom. The warm water of the shower cascades over us, soothing my aching muscles as we wash each other, our touches gentle now, intimate in a different way. His fingers trace my skin, rinsing away the sweat, and I shampoo his black hair, smiling at the way he leans into my touch.

Clean and dry, we slip back into bed, the silk sheets cool against our skin. Arthur pulls me close, my back to his chest, his arm draped over my waist. My golden hair fans out on the pillow, and his breath warms my neck as we cuddle, the earlier fire giving way to a quiet warmth. “I missed this,” I whisper, my voice soft, and he tightens his hold, murmuring, “Me too.”

Sleep claims us quickly, our bodies entwined, the Imperial Palace silent around us.