Chapter LVII: Dove
Isabella lay with the king in his bed, her head resting gently on his chest. She listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a soothing counterpoint to the earlier intensity. His hand moved in slow, comforting strokes along her shoulder, his touch both calming and tender.
The warmth of his skin against hers created a sense of peace and security that enveloped her completely. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment, feeling the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. The soft glow of the candlelight cast a gentle light over them, illuminating their intertwined forms in a halo of warmth and intimacy.
Isabella began to hum a song, her voice soft and melodic as the words flowed from her lips:
"Met thalorin vows en cantos aldor,
Elar telnar an Arieth, aurora dor,
Gondir an her met vorn might,
En haldar an her, jorn en nocht."
“With whispered vows and songs of old,
He pledged to her, his love untold,
To shield her with his mighty might,
And hold her close, in day and night.”
The king, understanding the Ancient Tongue, felt his heart stir at the haunting beauty of her singing. Her voice, almost like a whisper, was ethereal and filled with emotion, weaving magic into the air around them. He couldn't help but be captivated by the way she sang. Intrigued and enchanted, he gently stroked her hair and asked, "What are you singing?"
Isabella looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with the memories and emotions the song invoked. "It's an old Allendorian song," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "It tells the story of a dragon who falls in love with a little white dove."
The king smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Isabella’s face. “Sounds like a beautiful story,” he said softly.
Isabella chuckled, but there was a sadness in her eyes. “The story is rather sad, actually,” she began, her voice tinged with melancholy. “The dragon’s heat burns the dove’s feathers so badly that she nearly dies. The dragon, in a desperate act, drowns himself in a cold waterfall so his fire can be extinguished, just so he can hold her for one final moment.”
The king’s expression grew somber as he listened, his hand gently squeezing hers. “Well, that’s tragic indeed,” he murmured, his eyes searching hers.
The king looked deep into Isabella's eyes, his expression filled with a mix of curiosity and provocation. "Do you fear that I will burn you, Isabella?" he asked, his voice serious but tinged with dare.
Isabella paused, meeting his gaze with unwavering determination. "You already did," she admitted quietly, her voice steady. "I'm just not as fragile as a dove."
The king's eyes softened, a mix of admiration and reverence shining in them. "You're a rare woman, Isabella," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "The most precious one I've ever possessed."
Isabella smiled, her cheeks blushing, her eyes reflecting the warmth she felt in her heart. The king's eyes darkened with a mix of desire and determination. Without another word, he pulled Isabella into a passionate kiss, his lips capturing hers with a fervor that spoke of his deep longing. His hands roamed her back, pulling her even closer, as if he could never get enough of her.
"I want you like this from now on," he continued, his thumb gently caressing her lips. "Soft and sweet, my own little dove."
The king turned Isabella around, her back pressing against his chest as he caressed and squeezed her body with possessive tenderness. His hands explored her curves, eliciting shivers of pleasure from her. Leaning in, he whispered in her ear, his voice a low, husky murmur. "Do you want this, Isabella? Do you want to be my little dove?"
Isabella, consumed by his desire and the heat of his passionate kisses trailing down her neck, moaned softly. "Yes," she breathed, her voice trembling with need. "Yes, I want to."
The king positioned himself behind her, his grip on her hip firm and eager, while he rubbed his cock on her silky folds. He entered her slowly, his movements gentle and steady, allowing her to feel every inch of him. Isabella gasped, her body arching in response to the exquisite sensation.
Isabella caught sight of their reflection in the mirror in front of the bed. The image of the king moving behind her, fucking her slowly, his powerful, muscular form towering over her much smaller body, filled her with a mix of fear and exhilaration. His strength was both intimidating and reassuring, making her feel utterly surrendered to him yet fiercely protected.
Isabella saw the black dragons tattooed on the king’s chest in the mirror as he fucked her. The sight of the dark, sinuous dragons inked on his skin, winding across his muscular torso, filled her with a sense of awe and surrender. As she allowed herself to be consumed by his might and power, the fear and protection he embodied swirled within her. She felt the strength of his hands on her hips, guiding his movements, each thrust pushing her further into submission.
The king groaned deeply, his voice rough with passion, as he reached his climax. His movements grew more intense for a brief moment before he spilled himself inside of her, the heat of his release sending shivers through Isabella's body. In that moment, she embraced that role completely; she could be his little dove, sweet, fragile and obedient. But he was her dragon, her might and protective dragon.
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