Night time, sleeping time.

In the shadowed sanctum of Aiden's chamber, where the flickering torchlight danced like captive spirits on the stone walls, the air hung heavy with the musk of desire and the faint, acrid tang of spilled wine from the feast below.

The bed, a vast expanse of silken furs and embroidered linens—remnants of a noble lineage Aiden had only recently claimed—creaked under the weight of entangled bodies, each breath a symphony of longing that echoed through the castle's ancient halls.

Outside, the night winds whispered secrets of distant battles, but here, in this forge of flesh and fire, the world narrowed to the pulse of hearts and the slick rhythm of surrender.

Sliickk!.....sluurp…sleickk…

"This dick… gods, this cock—because of these nasty, swollen balls…" Catherine's voice slithered through the dimness, husky and unashamed, each word punctuated by the obscene gulp and slurp as she swallowed him deeper.

Her lips glistened, stretched wide, drool spilling unchecked down her chin. She knelt at the edge of the bed, her see-through gown clinging to her sweat-glistened skin like morning dew on spider silk.

Every suck felt like worship and rebellion, a way to claim a piece of him that Sabrina thought hers alone.

She tasted salt and musk, bitter-sweet nectar, and her fingers traced his heavy sack, squeezing, testing, imagining the torrent of seed trapped within.

Why these balls? Why do I crave them like wine? Is this the root of his strength—

Glock! Glock! Glock! Gloak!

"Haaaa…." Sabrina tore her lips free, gasping as though she'd drowned and surfaced. A string of spit clung from her lips to his slick cock, trembling in the firelight. Her chest rose and fell, her breasts heaving against the black silk that hugged her curves. She gripped him with both hands, stroking, twisting, her palms slippery with saliva and precum.

The thick musk filled her lungs, drowning her thoughts. This grip—it's mine, for now. Mine. But jealousy bit her tongue. What if he slips away, from him? What if these hands are not enough to chain him?

She wanted to climb atop him, sink him into her, fill that aching void between her thighs. But when she moved, he stopped her with a low growl, his eyes raking her gown.

"Don't take it off," he ordered. "That black dress… I like it, makes you look like a whore, an actual whore..."

His words vibrated in her bones, and she froze, pulse quickening. The gown—woven midnight with silver thread—suddenly felt heavier, like chains and silk entwined. For him. I wore it for him. But the men's eyes, the Duke's hands… gods, was it too much, was he angry, she attracted too much, when all she wanted was his eyes only?

The memory of the feast bit at her: her husband's leering face, his wrinkled hand clawing at her wrist, his stale breath promising only disappointment. She shuddered. That limp old cock could never make me tremble. Only Aiden can. Only him.

Her eyes flicked to the bed—and jealousy pierced deeper.

Flora straddled Aiden's face, moaning into his mouth as his tongue devoured her. Beside them, Luna writhed, her torn dress slipping from her shoulders, Aiden's fingers buried knuckle-deep in her slick cunt.

"Ahhh… not in front of my mother—nooo," Luna whimpered, thighs clamping, but her body betrayed her, clenching and gushing around his fingers. Shame burned her, yet it only stoked the flames. Mother's watching. Does she hate me? Does she envy me? Why does the shame make me throb harder?

Flora's breathless giggles turned to desperate cries. "Faster—Aiden, faster!" She ground her hips against his mouth, her perfume of lavender mixing with sweat and arousal. Not fair, she thought, watching his fingers work her cousin while his tongue fed on her. He divides himself, but I want all of him—me, only me.

Sabrina's jealousy snapped. She pushed Catherine aside, climbed the bed, spread her soaked thighs over Aiden's cock, her gown clinging like molten night.

"I don't care," she panted, lowering herself. "I want it now. I need it."

His cock pierced her, inch by inch, stretching, filling, claiming. Her gasp ripped through the chamber, her body shaking as he drove deeper and deeper until her womb clenched tight around him.

"This… gods, this is all I want," she cried, riding, her breasts bouncing beneath the dress, her voice breaking with need.

Plat! Plat! Plat! Plat!

Catherine hissed, clutching at Aiden's thigh. "Unfair, Sabrina! You steal every piece of him."

But Sabrina didn't care. Aiden's hands gripped her hips, slamming her down harder, his cock tearing moans from her throat.

Beneath her, he never stopped. His fingers pumped into Luna faster, faster, wet sounds slapping against his knuckles, while Flora bucked above him, his tongue buried inside her, his groans vibrating her swollen clit.

"Yesss! I'm cumming—ahhh, I'm cumming again!" Luna screamed, convulsing, squirting across his hand as her body shuddered in its eighth climax.

Flora's nails dug into his shoulders. "Me too—don't stop, gods, don't stop!"

The chamber trembled with moans, slaps of flesh, the wet symphony of forbidden desire.

When Aiden finally tore his lips from Flora, his voice cut the haze: deep, commanding, dangerous.

"Where were you both, before this?"

Flora panted, chest heaving. "The knights… they wouldn't leave us. We had to—ahhh—we had to bugger them off."

Luna, collapsed against his chest, whispered hoarsely, "Those bastards wouldn't stop staring....just. Just, Marry me, Aiden… you're a knight now. Claim me."

The words pierced the heat like steel.

Sabrina froze mid-thrust, jealousy twisting her gut. Marry her? My daughter? While I'm here, full of him, filled by him?

Flora's eyes narrowed, watching, calculating. If he weds her, where does that leave me? Am I just the shadow, the second choice?

Even Aiden paused, though his cock throbbed inside Sabrina. His thoughts flickered like firelight on steel. A knight, yes. But knights are pawns in bigger games.

Marriage… bloodlines… all chains. Yet… her words stir something dangerous.

The room fell silent but for the crackling torches and the distant horns outside—horns that signaled something stirring beyond the walls.

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