Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 227: No Disturbances

Chapter 227: No Disturbances

The ball proceeded with little to no disruptions after. When they had finally sent away the last of their guests, Daphne’s bones felt as though they were ready to collapse in on itself at any moment. She flopped lethargically onto the bed, a relieved sigh escaping her lips when her body sank into the soft mattress.

She had her eyes closed as she enjoyed the feeling of finally relaxing on a soft surface. Nothing was more important than her getting her rest! When she first felt the bed sink in, Daphne paid no mind to it. It was only when she felt a pair of lips graze her neck, followed by the sweet, tantalizing musk that solely belonged to Atticus had her eyes jerked open.

A startled gasp escaped her but before she could jolt up in surprise, Daphne found her hands pinned over her head, held in place by Atticus. His face hovered close, so close that she could even count the strands of eyelashes he had.

"There is a price to pay for making such sounds, my queen," Atticus murmured. "You are currently drawing very vivid images in my head right now."

Daphne gulped. She had no clue where the rush of bravery came from but she answered, "What is wrong with a little bit of imagination? Or are you planning to just keep it as an imagination, nothing more?"

That caused Atticus’s gaze to darken. He resembled a predator on the brink of starvation, a fire igniting in his eyes, fueled by an unquenchable thirst. When he clenched and unclenched his jaw, Daphne could see his muscles straining against his skin. Every inch of him was dripping with lust.

She shuffled a little under him, moving one leg over the other. When she moved, her knee went a little too high. Her skin grazed Atticus where he was most sensitive, and even though it was through the fabric of his pants, he still sucked in a sharp gasp of air.

Just that one second of touch was also enough to tell her that she had played with fire a little too long. She might just get burned this time.

"Is that a dare, sunshine?" Atticus asked. He leaned in, nibbling gently on the skin of her collarbone. Daphne gasped, arching her back in a mix of pain and pleasure from his sensuous movements.

"Atticus..."

"We have not consummated our marriage yet, you know," Atticus mumbled. The vibrations of his voice when he spoke seem to rumble through Daphne’s bones directly, causing her to hum with delectation. "Isn’t it time for us to make this marriage properly legal and binding?"

"Two different, very qualified priests officiated our weddings," Daphne reminded, her voice airy. "And..."

She could barely keep her eyes open from the way Atticus kept running his hand up and down her skin. Her skirts had slid up from the position they were in, giving him perfect access to her milky thighs. With the way his fingers glided over her skin, she could feel her goosebumps rising. The sensation was ticklish but it also had a hint of... something else.

"And?" Atticus’s voice was a low rumble, causing Daphne to suck in a haggard, shaky breath. She couldn’t think straight.

"And..." She hesitated, her throat dry and her words caught right before her lips, unable to break free. "And what if we get disrupted again like last time?" Then, as if she had caught onto a vital piece of information, she perked up a little. Her voice held a little more energy as she continued, "We’ve invited quite a lot of guests this time. What if assassins break in again?"

"Fret not, my dear wife," Atticus said a little too gleefully. "I have posted guards everywhere in the palace tonight. No one will be disturbing us. Even as we speak, there are men standing right outside those doors."

He gestured behind him to the entrance of the bedroom, causing Daphne’s line of sight to fall on the heavy doors. Instantly, her cheeks flushed scarlet.

Her husband must be mad! That meant that... if they did anything... those guards would be able to...

"You might want to keep your little mewls down," Atticus warned teasingly. "Those doors might not provide the best sound-proofing. They might just be able to hear every sound you make."

"Atticus!" Daphne gasped, horrified. Even though the idea was utterly embarrassing, her heart still skipped a beat, an unfamiliar feeling coiling within the lower regions of her stomach. Daphne squeezed her legs tighter together.

"Can I?" Atticus asked.

At first, Daphne was a little confused. She had no idea what he was referring to until she realized that he had already wormed to sit where her legs were. Atticus carefully peeled Daphne’s shoes off her feet, tossing them rather callously to one side before sliding his hands up and down her long legs.

She bit onto her bottom lip.

"Why are you asking for permission?" she asked.

"Because," Atticus said, "I want to see you beg for it."

There it was again, that unfamiliar — yet wonderful — churn in her stomach. She could feel the space between her legs begin to pool with wetness, a sensation that had never-before happened until Atticus came along.

She shivered when Atticus’s fingers went a little too high, grazing a spot on her inner thigh. Her mind felt as though it went blank for a second and she uttered words that she never thought she would dare to speak.

"Please," Daphne said, her voice throaty and barely even audible.

"Hmm?" Atticus hummed. "I can’t hear you."

"Please," she repeated, embarrassed but a little more confident in her words. "Play with me however you want. I am yours."

A devious grin slipped onto Atticus’s lips. He pulled Daphne by her waist, moving her down a little closer to him as she yelped out in surprise. When he moved closer to the bed instead of bringing his torso to her, she stared at him, confused.

That did not faze him one bit.

"With pleasure, sunshine."