The air in the room was thick, a mixture of the heavy scent of fermented rice wine and her light perfume of orchids. Wei Feng inhaled the blend deeply, a concoction that was both his vice and his addiction.
Beneath him, his niece, Princess Wei Yao, arched her back, an offering upon the tangled silk sheets. The moonlight traced the contours of a body the empire idolized as a symbol of purity. He, however, knew it as a map of pleasure, every corner memorized by touch and taste.
His fingers descended her spine, slow, deliberate. A tremor ran through her.
"Cold, my princess?" he whispered, his voice a low murmur that vibrated against her skin.
"No..." Wei Yao gasped, the word choked. "You... you always make me burn."
A crooked smile played on Wei Feng's lips. "Good. I don't like cold princesses."
He turned her, forcing her onto her back. His eyes, normally a dark and calculating brown, devoured her. The moonlight now fell upon her torso, illuminating the soft curve of her breasts. He leaned in, his warm breath grazing her skin.
"I love how they bloom for me," he murmured, his voice laden with a palpable possessiveness. "Like two peach blossoms, begging to be tasted."
His tongue traced a hot, wet circle around one nipple. Wei Yao arched sharply, a keen hiss escaping her lips. The tip hardened instantly, a taut, sensitive pearl.
"Uncle..." she moaned, the word a mixture of plea and permission.
"Shh. I am not your uncle here," he replied, his mouth closing over her nipple with a gentle suction. "Here, I am the only man who truly knows you."
"Ah... yes... there!" she moaned as he alternated between suckling and gently biting, sending waves of heat straight to her core. Her fingers, which by day held brushes or imperial seals, now clung to his shoulders, her nails digging in slightly.
While his mouth continued its assault, his free hand began a journey south, a slow, torturous path over her flat belly.
"Let's see just how impatient the jewel of the empire is tonight," he said with a malicious edge.
Wei Yao trembled, her hips instinctively shifting. "You know the answer... It's cruel to tease me, Wei Feng." The use of his given name was an intimacy as great as the act itself.
His hand reached its destination: the nest of silky hair at the juncture of her thighs. His fingers didn't hesitate. They parted the delicate folds, finding them not just damp, but surrendered to a torrent that shamelessly betrayed her desire.
"Cruelty is making you wait," he corrected, easily sliding one finger into her slick, burning heat.
"Ngh!" The sound was a low, guttural thud. Her body jolted. "Wei Feng...!"
He moved his finger inside her, a slow, provocative circle that made her gasp. "Say it, Yao'er. What do you want me to do?"
Humiliation and desire warred on her face. Her golden eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "You... Ah! Please... I want you to fill me. Now."
"Fill you?" he repeated, a second finger joining the first, stretching her, preparing her. "Princess Wei Yao, asking to be taken so vulgarly? What would the court say?"
"To hell with the court!" she cried out, her control shattering. "Just you... please, fill me now or I'll die!"
That was the answer he had been waiting for. Total surrender.
With a predator's smile, he positioned himself between her open thighs. His hardness, hot and throbbing, pressed against her entrance. He met her eyes, one last connection before reason abandoned them.
"As you command, my princess."
And with a single, powerful, brutal thrust, he filled her completely.
"AHHH!!"
Wei Yao's scream was primal, the release of all her pent-up tension. Her nails dug into his back, leaving red furrows in their wake. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, trapping him, demanding more.
He didn't make her wait. He pulled back almost completely only to slam into her again with savage force. The noble wooden bed protested with a loud, rhythmic creak, a beat for the symphony of slapping skin and desperate moans.
"More... harder!" she panted, her head thrashing from side to side on the pillows.
"Look at me," he growled, seizing her chin to force her gaze. "I want to see the princess's eyes as I break her."
His thrusts were relentless, both a punishment and a blessing. Each one was deeper, harder, seeking that secret spot inside her that made her scream his name.
"Wei Feng! Ah, yes, there... right there! Don't stop!"
"Never," he promised hoarsely, sweat dripping from his brow onto her face. "Whose are you, Yao'er? Tell me!"
"Yours..." she sobbed, her body beginning to tremble on the precipice. "I'm yours! I've always been yours!"
"Say it again!"
"Yours! Yours! Yours!"
Her cries were his cue. He felt her body clench around him, her orgasm seizing her in violent, spasming waves. The intensity of her release pushed him over the edge. With a guttural groan that vibrated through his entire chest, he emptied himself inside her, his own climax crashing into him in a torrent of heat.
The silence that fell afterward was deafening. Their bodies, slick with sweat, trembled with aftershocks. All that remained were their breaths, ragged and desperate, the only sound in the still room. He collapsed onto her, a dead, comforting weight. They remained that way, tangled, as their hearts galloped back to a calmer rhythm.
Slowly, like melting ice, reality returned. Wei Yao was the first to move. The warmth of pleasure was replaced by the cold burden of her duties. The wild lover retreated, making way for the princess.
"My father informed me this morning," she said, her voice surprisingly steady. "The Young Master of the Golden Sword Sect arrives tomorrow. The Emperor expects me to..."
She didn't finish.
Wei Feng's hand closed over one of her buttocks with possessive firmness. With a lazy but undeniable strength, he pulled her back against him, her naked body flush with his sweaty chest.
"Quiet," he murmured against her ear. His tone permitted no argument. "The Young Master can wait. The Emperor can wait. The concerns of the empire can wait for the sun. Tonight, princess, you are not yet done belonging to me."
Wei Yao went rigid. A surge of anger warred with the warm languor still flooding her. She could fight, could remind him that dawn would bring a world where their roles were rigidly defined.
But instead, she let out a long sigh, a mix of exasperation and surrender. Her body relaxed against his, and she nestled into his warmth, stealing a few more moments of the forbidden peace that was both her poison and her only salvation.
The clang of the dawn bell echoed, cold and relentless. The game was over.
They dressed in a practiced, efficient silence. In less than a minute, Wei Yao was transformed. The brocade robe hid the love marks on her skin, and the jade hairpin gathered her hair into a regal style. Standing, she was once again Princess Wei Yao, serene, untouchable, her face a mask of calm authority.
Wei Feng, for his part, took a long swallow from his wine jug. He ran a hand through his hair, and the facade of the "Drunken Prince," the decadent good-for-nothing, settled back over him like an old robe. He slipped out of the room without a word, a shadow in the growing light of dawn.
Minutes later, from a corner of the gardens, he saw her appear on her balcony. She stood, back straight, observing her empire. The rising sun glinted off her robes and the pin in her hair. Flawless. Pure. Perfect.
Wei Feng finished his wine, a crooked smile playing on his lips. How little they knew. He was the only one who knew the screams hidden behind those serene lips. The only one who knew the savage music her body made in the dark—the only melody worth listening to in the entire damned empire.