CHAPTER 81: INSIDE HER CHAMBERS (R-18)

Xavier listened silently at her side, his arms crossed, his expression casual but keen. He noted the butler’s clenched fist, the slight edge in his tone, but said nothing — for now.

Seraphina, however, smiled faintly, her poise absolute. "Good. I expected no less of you, Lloyd. You’ve always managed the estate with care."

The compliment tightened the butler’s jaw even more, though he bowed with grace. "You honor me, Milady."

Seraphina glanced at the assembled servants, her voice carrying the authority of her station. "That will be all. Return to your duties."

"Yes, Milady!" the maids chorused, dispersing swiftly back to their tasks.

With the courtyard cleared, Seraphina turned toward the grand entrance of the mansion. Xavier fell into step just half a pace behind her, his presence as natural as her own shadow.

Lloyd watched them ascend the steps, his hand curling tightly around the report papers until the edge crumpled. He bowed once more, hiding the flicker of frustration in his eyes, and turned sharply to dismiss the remaining guards.

Seraphina’s silken voice drifted back, cool and casual, but carrying weight. "Lloyd, continue handling the estate affairs. If there’s any new development, inform me immediately. For now, Xavier and I will retire inside."

"...As you command, Lady Seraphina."

The great doors of the Valemont mansion opened, swallowing mistress and guard into its elegant halls. Behind them, Lloyd’s knuckles whitened, his breath caught between duty and emotion.

But the estate remained immaculate, and his role — for now — was to keep it so.

Inside Seraphina’s chanbers...

The door clicked shut, and Xavier slid the bolt into place. The soft thud echoed through Seraphina’s chambers, a velvet hush rolling over tapestries, lanternlight, and the faint perfume of lilies clinging to the drapes.

Seraphina didn’t wait. She gripped his collar, drove him back to the wall with a thump that rattled one of the sconces, and kissed him—fierce, greedy, breath-stealing.

It wasn’t the kiss of a noblewoman; it was the claim of a woman who’d waited too long. Her lips were warm and hungry, her breath quick, her body pressed hard to his as if she meant to fuse heat with heat.

Lustful thoughts swirled in her mind like wine in a goblet— ’Finally, him, all mine, no eyes watching, no duties calling. I’ll make him ache the way I’ve ached all day.’

Xavier smiled into the kiss, his hands finding her waist instinctively, fingers splaying over the curve of her hips.

"You’re trouble," he murmured against her mouth, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her, stirring the fire in her core.

"Good," she whispered back, nipping his lower lip before diving in again, her tongue teasing his with a boldness that made his grip tighten. "Then suffer."

The word hung between them like a dare, her emotions a tangle of triumph and need—she loved this power, the way he yielded just enough to make her feel in control, yet his strength simmered beneath, promising to claim her in return.

When she finally let him breathe, her fingers were already at the front of his guard robe, sliding over buttons with deliberate patience that felt like torture.

One by one. A pause. Another. Her lashes lifted, silver eyes daring him to tell her to stop. He didn’t. He couldn’t. His thoughts raced—’She knows exactly what she’s doing, that slow unraveling, making me wait... god, her touch is fire.’

"Now we’re finally free from work," she said, voice low and playful, "can we continue from where we stopped?" Her hand slipped inside the parted robe, palm pressing flat to his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart quicken under her touch.

"Of course." He sounded far too calm for the way his pulse hammered, but his eyes betrayed him, dark with the same hunger that coiled in her belly.

She parted the robe fully and pressed her palms to his chest. The contact lit a spark she knew exactly how to nurse into fire—slow circles over muscle, barely-there scratches, a glide along his ribs that had him exhale, long and quiet. Her smile was equal parts cute and wicked, a soft curve sharpened by intent.

She kissed the corner of his jaw, then his throat, then brushed her lips along the edge of his ear until he caught her waist and pulled her closer. The feel of his hands on her sent a shiver through her, lust blooming like heat in her veins—’His skin is so warm, so alive... I want to taste every inch, make him whisper my name like a prayer.’

"Impatient?" she breathed, pleased, as her blouse brushed his fingertips, the fabric whispering promises of what lay beneath.

"I’m appreciating the view," he said, which was both true and insufficient. Her breasts gleamed under the light, a lovely view that made his mouth dry—the soft swell rising with each breath, nipples hardening faintly under his gaze, begging for touch.

The lanternlight gilded her hair and turned the pale of her skin to warm cream, shadowing the lines where fabric yielded to curve. She smelled like moonlit air and something faintly sweet, and the room felt dangerously small, as if the walls had leaned in to watch.

Seraphina pressed him to the wall again—not hard, just enough to tell him she wanted control—and kissed him slow this time. Deep. Luxurious.

She savored, took, gave, then took again, until their breaths tangled and their balance swayed. His hands slid up her back, mapping familiar lines and finding new places to linger—along the dip of her spine, the flare of her hips, each touch igniting sparks that made her press closer, her body molding to his.

When his thumbs grazed her butt, she shivered and smiled against his mouth, a little sound rising that made his grip tighten, his mind whispering—’That sound... it’s mine, all mine, the way she melts for me.’

"You plan," he murmured, lips skimming her cheek, his breath hot against her skin, "or you pounce. Which is it?"

"Both." She undid his belt with a deft flick, the leather sighing as it loosened. "Plan to pounce."

Her fingers brushed the growing hardness beneath, teasing through fabric, feeling him twitch in response. Lustful emotions surged—’He’s already so ready, so hard for me... I love making him want like this, drawing it out until we both break.’

He laughed low, the sound swallowed by her next kiss. His robe hit the floor in a dark spill; her blouse loosened under his touch, a soft rustle that felt intimate all by itself. He guided her backward with a gentle pressure and she let him, step by step, until the backs of her knees felt the bed. She didn’t sit.

She hooked a finger in his collar and tugged him down to her mouth again, biting back a laugh when he obliged so quickly, his body covering hers as they sank onto the mattress together.

"Greedy man," she whispered, nibbling his jaw, her teeth grazing just enough to send a jolt through him.

"Said the woman who dragged me by the throat." His hand slid under her blouse, palm flat against her stomach, fingers splaying upward to brush the underside of her breast.

"By the collar," she corrected, playful, her breath hitching as his thumb circled her nipple through the thin fabric. "Throats I reserve for... later." The promise hung there, teasing, her thoughts turning to how she’d take him in her mouth, feel him pulse against her tongue.

The lantern’s flame ticked. Outside, the estate breathed—distant footfalls in the corridor, a rolling cart in the courtyard, the hush of leaves. Inside, their world shrank to hands, lips, and a slow, rising heat.

Xavier kissed her the way he spoke when he wanted obedience—unhurried, certain, with a gravity that bent the rest of the room. She answered like a storm meeting shore, taking turns to crash and to retreat, to tease and to demand, her hips grinding against his in subtle invitation.

"Tell me," he said, lips skimming her cheek, his hand slipping lower to trace the edge of her undergarments, "what do you want first?"

"You. Listening." She framed his face with her hands and looked at him—really looked—until his smirk softened. "No rushing. No winning. Just... us, take it as slow as possible."

Her voice was soft, but the lust beneath it was fierce, a need to connect beyond the physical, though her body ached for that too.

He nodded, something earnest flashing under the silver of his eyes. "Then I’ll listen."

She drew him to sit, then straddled his lap, her knees sinking into the mattress, her posture regal by habit and ruined by desire. The bed dipped beneath them, springs sighing. She rolled her hips, slow and lazy, feeling his hardness press against her core through the layers of fabric, a delicious friction that made her breath catch. He caught her waist to steady her. She caught his wrists and pressed them to the sheets, pinning him with a grin that was dangerously cute.