Chapter CLXVII: Untamed desire

Belton slid the straps of her nightgown down, letting the fabric fall away from her body. The walls he’d so carefully built cracked and fell, and in that moment, reason and restraint crumbled. She was his undoing, and in that moment, he could do nothing but succumb.

He pulled her closer, feeling her heartbeat against his, her naked body melhing in his arms, their breaths mingling as desire surged between them. He wanted her, needed her, and right now, he *had* her.

He paused, breaking the kiss to take in the sight of her body. She was a vision, built like a goddess with generous breasts, a slender waist, and flawless skin. Every inch of her seemed sculpted to perfection. He lifted her into his arms and gently laid her on the bed, savoring the knowledge that every place he touched and kissed was untouched by anyone else before him. Each sensation he brought to her—from the way he suckled on her sensitive nipples to the way his hands kneaded the soft flesh of her thighs—was entirely new to her. And, princess or not, he knew exactly how to worship a woman’s body.

He trailed kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, and lower still, until he reached her stomach, relishing how she arched beneath him, inviting more. He buried his face between her thighs, and he reveled in the warmth that met him before allowing his mouth to reach the silky, wet folds of her womanhood. He wanted to taste her like this—pure, untouched… To give her so much pleasure that any pain she might feel would be drowned, suffocated in the rapture. She tasted unlike any woman he ever had, he locked her hips in place as he listened to the desperate, melodic sounds of her moans and felt her body writhe beneath him. She propped herself up on her elbows, burying her fingers in his hair, as if she wanted to pull him even deeper between her thighs. It was almost unbelievable how she wavered between a sweet innocence and an untamed desire that burned through her. He couldn't wait any longer. He had to possess her.

Breathing heavily, Belton lifted his head, his skin damp with sweat, and stood at the edge of the bed, gazing at her beneath him. She was breathtaking, a vision almost too perfect to be real. But she was real: the softness of her skin, the sweetness of her taste, the warmth of her body—she was real, she was his. He pulled down his pants, his cock throbbing with urgency. Rya's eyes held no fear, only a glimmer of curiosity and anticipation.

He leaned over her, positioning himself between her thighs, taking a moment to steady himself, trying hard to contain his urge to take her roughly, for the sake of her virgin body. He met her gaze—those deep, beautiful emerald eyes—and whispered, “This might hurt a little.” She nodded confidently. He pressed himself to her, rubbing the tip against her slick entrance before slowly pushing himself inside, careful and controlled. Her breath caught, a mix of discomfort and an unexpected, bewildering pleasure etched on her face.

“Can I keep going?” he asked, voice rough with restraint.

“Yes,” she whispered, a smile gracing her lips.

He kissed her lips and began to move slowly, focusing entirely on her, on her pleasure, though his own was nearly overwhelming. She was so tight, so warm, so perfect… She dug her nails into his back, moaning, squirming beneath him without restraint. There was a fire in her eyes, fierce and consuming, unlike anything he’d ever seen. As he felt the surge of his climax build, logic dictated he should pull out, but with her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms drawing him in closer… She wanted him to claim her fully. How could he stop? He wanted this, he wanted to fill her completely, to feel her walls tightening around him as he released himself deep inside her.

And so he did, giving in to that primal, uncontrollable need as he spilled his seed deep within her until the spams of his body ceased.

Belton got up and reached for the wine on the table and poured them each a glass, the crimson liquid catching what little light filtered into the room through the narrow, storm-gray window. The dawn was creeping in, pale and hesitant, though true sunlight was a rare guest in the Stormlands. The room was filled with a heavy silence as they drank.

He glanced at her, taking in the serene expression on her face, the soft rise and fall of her chest, and the way her dark hair spilled across his pillow like ink. Her skin glistened, flushed and damp, and for a moment, she looked almost ethereal. Belton swallowed hard. The realization of what he’d done hit him like a wave, threatening to drown him in its implications. He had risked everything by having her there, by giving in to the need that had gnawed at him since she first arrived.

It was ironic, he thought. Rya, the girl who usually never ceased to challenge or chatter, was now perfectly silent. And yet, that silence was maddening. He craved her voice, her sharp words, her complaints—anything that would let him glimpse what she was thinking, what she was feeling after everything that just happened.

Eventually, they both dozed off for a few minutes. Belton woke to find Rya still entwined in his arms, her body pressed against his. He gently caressed her back, and she stirred, her eyes meeting his. He kissed her lips, warmth spreading through him as the softness of her skin brushed against his.

He tried to shift and position himself above her, but she stopped him with a firm push. "Let me do this," she whispered.

Rya straddled him, guiding his hands to her hips as she moved, slowly at first, until he entered her. He watched, mesmerized, as she guided herself on top of him, every movement of her body igniting something deep within him. Her face betrayed a trace of soreness, but beneath it, there was an undeniable craving for more pleasure. He wanted to give it to her—all the pleasure. He wanted her to take everything he could offer, to spend her until it flooded her senses.

She moved with a grace and hunger that stirred him, her nails digging into his chest, the sharp bite of pain only fueling his desire. As she reached her climax, her body quivered in spasms, a breathless shiver running through her. Watching her unravel like that was enough to push him over the edge, and he followed her into release, coming once more after she did.

They lingered there, both breathless, their bodies entwined in the aftermath. Rya lay beside him, her satisfaction clear on her face, her chest rising and falling with every slow, steady breath.

Belton’s gaze lingered on her, studying the peaceful look that softened her features. He couldn't help but think about the consequences, the price he could pay for this night. The Dragon King would surely cut his head off if he knew. The vision of his own head on a pike was clear. And yet, as he watched her in this fleeting moment of stillness, he thought that maybe—just maybe—his own ruin could be worth it.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek. The warmth of her skin burned against his, branding him in a way that felt deeper than any scar. “What have I done, princess?” he whispered, the question more for himself than for her.

Rya turned her head slightly, meeting his eyes with a softness that held its own power. "What matters now," she said, voice steady as steel, "is what you're going to do next."

A chill ran down his spine. "What do you mean?" he asked, trying to mask the alarm that suddenly coursed through him. But Rya had already straightened, propping herself up with a confident grace that mocked the vulnerability they had just shared.

"You will open the southern roads for trade," she stated, each word sharp and deliberate. "After great consideration, you’ll announce to your vassals that you accepted the capital’s offer for a yearly fare to allow eastern merchants to pass."

The room felt smaller suddenly, suffocating. "What?" Belton's voice was tight, strained.

"In exchange," Rya said, getting up from the bed, "I won’t tell the Dragon King that you defiled his daughter, a royal guest under your own roof."

His heart pounded as he stared at her, stunned. For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the soft rustle of Rya picking up her robe. "You’re not serious," he muttered, but there was no conviction in his voice.

Rya paused, glancing over her shoulder as she began to pull on her shift. "I am, Lord Belton, and I’m sorry," she said simply.

The shock broke into something sharper, more biting. "You deceived me," he accused, his voice hoarse with disbelief and anger.

A slight smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "It’s partly your fault, isn’t it?" she said, her tone mocking, echoing his own words from their countless arguments. "For being so easily deceived by, as you would say, a spoiled, entitled princess who knows nothing."

Belton felt a flush of rage and something else—betrayal—rise in his chest. "You gave away your body like a common whore," he spat, the bitterness of his own weakness lacing his words.

Rya stilled, her back to him, the muscles in her shoulders tensing. She took a deep breath before turning, her eyes cold. "That word doesn’t quite offend me, my lord," she said, stepping into her gown. "That’s what they called my mother before she started burning some people alive."

The weight of her words left him stunned. "You can’t do this," he said, his voice shaking with desperation and denial.

Her eyes softened for just a moment, regret flickering like a shadow. "I’m sorry, Belton. I truly am. I wish things were different, I wish that you respected my position enough to negotiate fairly. But you didn’t, and so I had to resort to this."

He shook his head, unable to comprehend the woman standing before him. "You’ll regret this," he promised, his voice a low growl.

Rya paused at the door, her fingers grazing the handle. She turned to him, and for the first time that morning, her eyes revealed a flicker of the girl she had been hours before. "I don’t," she said, the words almost wistful.

Belton’s brow furrowed. "What?"

“I don’t regret it, Lord Belton.” Rya’s smile was fleeting, filled with a sadness that pierced through him. "I could’ve just threatened you with a lie.”

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“You know damn well that if I told my father that you laid your hands on me, it wouldn’t matter if it was true or not, he would have you killed and that would be enough to pressure you. I didn’t need to do this, I didn’t give you my body for deceitful reasons.” Rya said calmly and composedly. “I chose to lay with you because I *wanted* to… Because I wanted it to be you."

And then she was gone, the door closing softly behind her, leaving Belton alone in the stillness of the room. He sat there, crushed, defeated… The bloodstain of her maidenhead still sullying the sheets right by his side.