They stayed locked like that, panting, until his cock softened enough to slip free with a wet schlick. A flood of his seed followed, splattering her thighs and the stone below. Malaica straightened slowly, turning to face him with a sated, feral grin. Her lips were kiss-swollen, cheeks flushed, braid half-undone.
"Better," she purred, licking a stray drop of cum from her lip.
"But don't think this pays your debt. Tonight, in my chambers. Bring that sword of yours—and nothing else."
Aragon tucked himself away, smirking as he adjusted his breeches. "As you command, Duchess."
She laughed, low and throaty, pulling up her breeches with a wink before striding off down the corridor, hips swaying with deliberate provocation. He watched her go, cock twitching with aftershocks, the taste of conquest lingering.
*
