The Mouse and The Monarch

27

The sound reverberated in the silence, adding a layer of desire over her.

She really liked that noise.

She felt the spot between her thighs throb and dampen with need.

With a fiery determination, Ophelia pulled their bodies closer together, feeling his own arousal pressing into her stomach.

She knew he was big.

He was six-ten, and she wasn't even sure if she could take him.

But the pressure in her would not allow her to let him go.

His lean frame hovered over hers, hips slightly moving to press further into her.

He was desperate.

His strong hands wrapped around her, drawing her closer in a possessive embrace.

The sensation of his touch sent shivers down Ophelia's spine and made her moan softly.

His hands, exploring with a feverish hunger, traced the curve of her back, over her bare skin, tattoo and scar, leaving a trail of fire on her skin.

His protest was a stammered whisper, a feeble attempt to uphold the boundaries between them.

"I'm your Col-" But before he could finish, his words were devoured by the relentless hunger of Ophelia's mouth.

He didn't resist. Instead, he surrendered and fell into her.

As their mouths met again, he melted further into her, abandoning the constraints of reason and rank.

"Off duty," she breathed the words of a defiant declaration that severed the ties of duty and protocol.

Ophelia, emboldened by the intoxication of the moment, bit down on his lip and pulled it between her teeth.

This time, a loud moan escaped him, a symphony of pleasure that rumbled through his chest.

From where they clutched his shirt, her fingers slid down, tracing the contours of his body until they reached the hem of his pants.

"Ophelia..."

His voice, a quiet moan that carried the weight of both longing and hesitation, whispered her name like a fragile plea.

Any lingering restraint she had left snapped like a fragile thread.

With an urgency, Ophelia's hands worked to undo the barriers that stood between them.

The fabric of his pants yielded to her touch and he didn't stop her.

Instead, she heard his head fall against the wall roughly as his breathing grew ragged.

Her hand wrapped around the length of him and they both froze.

She felt all his muscles tense, his breathing stopping as his cock twitched in her hand.

She, on the other hand, had frozen because she had only just managed to get her hand around it.

She stroked gently, feeling veins and soft skin run over her palm.

His breath hitched at her movement, the quiet sound resonating like a scream around her.

She pumped a few more times, letting her hand get used to how he felt.

Gently she ran her fingertip up and over his tip.

He moaned loudly and she felt the hot burst of precum flowing over her palm the minute her finger traced over him.