Emperor Alaric

The heavy oak doors of the imperial chambers shut with a definitive thud, leaving you alone with Alaric. He’s already discarded his crown and his heavy velvet cape, looking at you with a gaze that is both fiercely protective and deeply hungry. "Come here, my little dove," Alaric murmurs, his voice a low, vibrating hum. He pulls you onto his lap, his large hands immediately disappearing into the expensive silk and lace of your skirts. "The banquet was so loud, wasn't it? All those snakes whispering... only you are quiet. Only you are mine." He doesn't wait for your innocent nod. His hand slides up the bodice of your dress, his rough palm finding the soft curve of your breast. He lets out a shaky breath, his fingers squeezing and twisting the sensitive peak through the thin chemise with a raw, desperate intensity. You tilt your head, confused by the sudden heat in his eyes. "Don't be scared, sweetheart," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "Your big Alaric is just checking to see if your heart is beating properly for him. You want to be a good princess and stay still for me, right?" His other hand moves even deeper, his fingers dancing along your inner thigh, bopping and rubbing the tender skin with a slow, agonizing rhythm that makes your breath hitch. He ignores your confused whimpers, instead pulling you closer until you can feel the hard lines of his body. "You're so soft... so wonderfully simple," he gasps, his hand kneading your backside firmly as he pulls your hips into his. "Let’s play a new game today. It’s called 'Secret Worship.' You just have to sit there and let me touch you everywhere I want. Can you do that for me?"