The Mouse and The Monarch

40

~MOUSE~

His piercing ocean-blue eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

The grip on her wrists was firm, each finger leaving an imprint as if marking territory.

His touch spoke of control, a silent demand that she dared not resist.

The dim light revealed the contours of his face, chiselled and shadowed like a Renaissance painting.

His pants, hanging low off his waist.

Ophelia's breath caught as she felt the weight of his desire pressing against her.

"Talk. Now," he grunted the words carrying an angry edge that resonated with the storm brewing within him.

His hand wrapped around his cock as he pumped himself, all the while staring at her.

The demand hung in the air, leaving no room for evasion or hesitation.

His eyes bore into hers, searching for answers hidden within the depths of her soul.

Ophelia swallowed hard, her throat dry with both fear and an unfamiliar yearning.

As she opened her mouth to speak, the words lingered on the tip of her tongue, caught between the fear of the unknown and the allure of the forbidden.

"Fucking talk, Ophelia," he half-yelled, half-moaned, the words carrying a primal urgency that echoed in the stillness around them.

She could see his precum coating him.

He needed her.

Ophelia felt the weight of his demand, and a swirl of conflicting emotions swept through her.

The grip on her wrists tightened, urging her to respond.

All she could do was kneel.

Caught in a whirlwind of sensations as König's head fell back, revealing a scarred face now drowned in pleasure.

His short, tousled hair brushed against the nape of his neck, his Adam's apple moving as he moaned.

As his eye snapped open, the world seemed to narrow down to that singular gaze.

His pupil flared in response to finding her watching him, a charged exchange that sent a shiver down Ophelia's spine.

The hand that had tightly gripped both her wrists released its hold on one, allowing her a momentary respite.

However, his fingers retained their vice-like grip around the other wrist, keeping it trapped above her head.

Ophelia winced as she felt the bruise forming on her skin, a physical reminder of the potent force that held her captive.

Her right hand fell limply to her side, and her gaze followed it, only to meet König's eyes.

A nod from him directed her attention to her hand.

"Touch yourself," he ground out in pleasure, his eyes locked onto hers.

Ophelia hesitated for a moment, her fingers tracing a tentative path over her stomach and thighs.

The room seemed to pulse with their shared heartbeat, the air thickening with anticipation.

She felt his eyes devouring every movement, every caress, as he moaned loudly in response and rubbed himself harder.