Chapter 404 --404
He reached out, his thumb catching her chin and tilting her face upward so she had no choice but to look into his dark, predatory eyes.
"Then let him cry," Ken whispered, leaning down until his breath fanned over her lips. "You spent years running an empire. You can spend one night letting us ruin your sleep schedule."
Without waiting for her to agree—knowing she likely wouldn’t voice agreement anyway—Ken leaned in and captured her mouth in a deep, commanding kiss. At the same time, Mahir let out a soft growl of approval against her neck, his hands sliding down to her hips to lift her slightly, guiding her backward toward the massive, waiting bed.
Elara closed her eyes, letting her mind switch off completely. She still didn’t know what she was supposed to feel, but as the cool air of the room hit her skin, replaced immediately by the intense heat of the two men, she decided that thinking was overrated anyway.
The weight of her body hit the mattress, the heavy velvet blankets shifting beneath her as Ken and Mahir pressed in close, cutting off the remaining cool air of the room.
For someone like Elara, who spent the vast majority of her life calculating political moves, anticipating betrayals, and balancing the delicate scales of an empire, this specific environment was the only place where the relentless static in her mind truly fell silent. She did not feel the fiery passion or the romantic longing that poets wrote about; instead, she processed the scene through a sequence of sharp, physical realities. The heavy scent of cedar and musk, the unyielding heat of their skin, and the deliberate, rhythmic pressure of their movements against her own.
Ken broke the kiss slowly, his lips lingering against hers for a fraction of a second before he pulled back just enough to look down at her face. His gaze was intense, tracking the completely unbothered, steady rhythm of her breathing.
"Still as calm as a frozen lake," Ken murmured, a faint, sharp smirk touching his lips. He reached down, his fingers tangling into her hair, gently anchoring her head to the pillow. "Let’s see how long that lasts tonight, Master."
Behind her, Mahir wasn’t wasting any time. His hands, calloused from years of training and combat, slid firmly around her waist, lifting her slightly to strip away the remnants of her shirt and trousers. His movements weren’t frantic, but they possessed a heavy, possessive certainty. As his fur-tipped ears twitched against her shoulder, his tail wrapped tighter around her calf, locking her into place against him.
"Don’t talk so much, Ken," Mahir grumbled, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling vibration that echoed right against Elara’s spine. "Master has finally stopped thinking about those damn documents. Don’t ruin it."
Mahir leaned over her shoulder, his teeth grazing lightly along the column of her neck, finding the exact spot where her pulse beat steady and slow. He bit down just hard enough to leave a mark, a physical claim that drew a sharp, involuntary intake of breath from her.
To Elara, the sensation wasn’t a spark of emotion—it was raw sensory input. It was a demand for her attention that she couldn’t ignore or delegate to an administrator.
Ken moved over her, his heavy thighs framing her hips as he lowered his weight. He didn’t rush the physical alignment; instead, he used his hands to trace the lines of her collarbones, pressing down on her shoulders to feel the tension she still carried from her hours in the office.