363: Touch Me

Touch Me

Gently, she cradled his forlorn countenance in her dainty hands, her voice tender yet resolute, "Your Highness, I desire you as well, but you are inebriated. Please, listen to me."0

In this moment, Oriana's honesty mirrored his own emotions, but she remained steadfast, guarding against the allure of surrendering to passion. As a woman, she couldn't afford to lose herself in this intoxicating moment. Yet, she held a quiet confidence that, even in his drunken state, he would heed her words.

Her admission 'I want you as well' served as a balm to the intoxicated man's wounded pride, averting the sting of rejection. He closed his eyes, their foreheads touching, their noses lightly grazing, enveloped in the embrace of her alluring scent.

"What am I suppose to do with you?" he murmured softly, his words scarcely more than a whisper. With tender kisses, he traced a path from her lips to her cheeks, following the graceful curve of her jawline before finding solace nestled at the crook of her neck, where her silk like hair converged.

He inhaled deeply, her hair scented like a musk, which reminded him of the deer, their first encounter and so on. Her hair not just beautiful but had unique scent that held the memories of those sweet moments. 

Meanwhile, Oriana felt a surge of relief as she sensed his earnest attempt to grasp her predicament. She continued, her voice carrying a mixture of vulnerability and conviction, "Your Highness, I am a woman and there are limits...I cannot... You understand what I mean, don't you?"

Her sweet scent had a calming effect on him, but at the same time, it seduced him, stirring desire within him. He heard her words, yet his body longed to follow its own desires, irrespective of his mind's protests.

"Then, use other means," his voice husky and intimate, murmured into her ear. His fevered lower body pressed against hers in a way that almost drew a gasp from her lips, un undeniable hardness nestle between her thighs. This electric sensation heightened her awareness of their precarious situation, burdened with desires.

'Other means?' Oriana pondered, utterly confounded by his inebriated discourse. 'I must get him off of my body. Being close like this, it's defiantly a torture for me as well.' She wished to move him off her body, but he was simply too heavy. 

On the other hand, his persistence knew no bounds, and he spoke once more, his voice an orchestra of muted suffering and fervent desire, laying profoundness of his want.  "I feel like I would die...You must take action..." His face nestle against her neck intimately, "I can no longer endure this torment...."

His entreating, subdued words arrested her, shattering her determination to push him aside. 

"What... do you wish me to do... Your Highness?"

"Help me." he responded, his actions now shifting as he delicately began to nibble on the tender skin of her neck.

"How?" she asked, her voice quivering in response to his actions.

"Touch me," his voice, husky and impatient, resonated with unspoken need for intimacy.

Oriana's pulse quickened as her womanly instincts whispered caution, yet beneath their warning, a relentless curiosity beckoned her toward the forbidden. Her hands hesitated briefly at his shoulders, their touch lingering just enough. Unable to resist, she finally inquired.

"I don't understand." her shaking voice, barely audible.

Arlan, though intoxicated, intimacy with her seemed to have sparked the clarity within him. The imperative need to have his mate was asserting itself. He abandoned his playful attention to her neck and elevated his gaze to meet hers.

His drunk, lustful eyes, tinged with almost crimson desire, locked onto her anxious ones. His gaze trailed along the outline of her swollen lips, fixated on that small inviting mouth of hers. The anxiousness in her eyes seemed to have snapped him back and he instead held her hand with his, separating it from his shoulder. 

Oriana allowed him to guide her hand, her senses engulfed by his lustful gaze. Her heart raced at the intensity with which he regarded her, a look that seemed to seduce and beckon her to surrender to his desires.

Staring straight into her eyes, while balancing himself up at the elbow of his one hand, Arlan guided her hand, tracing a sensual path downward.

Oriana, captivated by his gaze, remained fixated as her hand moved along his body, feeling those taut shapely muscles under her touch. 'Touch him? Is this what I need to do?' The question lingers as her touch continued, meandering down his stomach until it paused at his pants. 

It was only then he spoke, "Unbutton it," and she snapped back to reality.

Realising where her hand had ventured, Oriana questioned, "Why?" She knew the answer but her anxious nerves compelled her to ask. 

"So that you can help me while preserving your chastity."

"I..don't..know…" She tried to avoid looking at him, her voice barely audible, she tried to pull her hand back.

"You will learn," he interjected, guiding her hand firmly bak to to the edge of his pants.

Oriana recalled her own moments of pleasure on the night of ball in othinian palace, the moments when he had asked her nothing in return. But now, he needed this, so she resolved to provide it despite her inexperience.

With determination she proceeded her hands to unbutton his pants. Once done she glanced at him, Seeking guidance on what to do next, her long eyelashes squiring under his intense gaze. 

"Pull it down," he answered her unspoken question.

Oriana compelled, her hands brushing the taught muscles of the sides of his hips. She didn't wish to imagine what she would be faced with after this. Though she slid his pants down his hips, she couldn't comprehend what to do next. 

"Touch me," she heard his fervent voice, his impatient eyes locked on her. 

She swallowed hard and lowered her hands, not daring to move her gaze down there. Her trembling hands fumbled, taking their time, which only fuelled Arlan's impatience further.

He took hold of her hand and  guided it directly towards his erect and heated manhood. Oriana gasped in disbelief, unable to comprehend that she was truly touching him like this. Her shock, however, was eclipsed by the sudden change in Arlan's expressions the moment her hand touched him, held him. 

He let out a suppressed groan, his eyes half lidded, his heavy breaths quickened, his jaw clenched, the veins on his neck visibly pulsating. He firmly grasped her palms around his length and through clenched teeth, instructed her. 

"Move...like this..."

Oriana started moving her both hands holding him firmly the way he guided her, mix with confusion and embarrassment, her expressions clearly reflecting her inner turmoil.  But observing him in a vulnerable, intensely erotic state--something no one else must have ever witnessed--she chose to focus only on him, refusing to divert her gaze. He was a sight to behold.

He released her hands, steadying himself on both elbows and leaned down to kiss her passionately. His hips subtly moved against her hands which were pleasuring him, holding his most private part.

Caught off guard by the heated kiss, Oriana found herself torn between maintaining her hands' rhythm and responding to his kiss at the same time.

After what felt like an eternity to her, finally Arlan withdrew from her lips, letting out the pleasurable groans as he found his release. His heaving chest and that alluring handsome face glistened with a shin of sweat. He panted heavily against her swollen lips which he didn't let go of till the end.

She felt her hands were covered with something warm and there was no need to question what it was.

Arlan rolled to the side, pulling up his pants and lay on the carpeted floor with his eyes shut, content look on his face.

Oriana looked at him and found him sliding into the slumber of sleep, leaving her on her own to clear the mess he had created. She glanced at her hands and then to her clothes, choosing not dwell on the situation to avoid further embarrassment. 

'He won't remember this tomorrow. I don't have to feel anything."

She sat up, heading straight for the bathroom. Fortunately, only her jackets was soiled and she could keep wearing her shirt. She cleaned her hands, unbutton her jacket and removed so she could wash it. Though little annoyed at this, one thing was sure, she didn't feel disgusted at all.

After a while, she came out of the bathroom and looked at Arlan who hadn't move even an inch.

'He is sleeping on the floor.'

Oriana went to him and tied the sides of his night robe with it's undone belt, covering his exposed torso entirely before she buttoned his pants back.

She couldn't help but question herself, 'What am I doing? Am I truly so audacious to engage in such intimacy with a man, and now, boldly taking care of him like this? I should have fled from here instead. But why can't I bring myself to leave his side? Perhaps I've become accustomed to being with him and meeting his desires,' she sighed deeply, conflicted.

'But I can't let him sleep on the floor,' she resolved, determined to ensure his comfort.

She attempted to wake him up, "Your Highness, you should sleep on the bed." She made her best efforts, but he didn't budge. 

She contemplated if she should call the knights standing outside but the thought of what she and Arlan had done just now, left her  embarrassed to do so, thinking the knight might catch the whiff of it. 

'The floor is carpeted, it's not cold,' she reasoned and fetched the quilt to cover him.

Since the master was sleeping on the floor, there was no way a servant would sleep on the couch even. Oriana got another cushion and placed it on the floor, and lay down as well, keeping a distance between them.

'I have to travel tomorrow. I need to sleep.'

She closed her eyes, but her mind kept awake for long.

'I really pray he won't remember anything tomorrow like always. That way things would not be awkward between us.'

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