I'm the Villain, But the Heroines Keep Choosing Me-Chapter 110: (R18) Stolen Moments

The kiss started controlled – measured, strategic, like everything else they’d been doing for days.

But control lasted approximately three seconds before Elara made a sound low in her throat and pulled him closer, deeper, more urgent.

Damien responded in kind, his hands sliding from her waist up her sides, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin undergarments.

Her robes had fallen completely open now, hanging loose from her shoulders, creating the illusion of being dressed while being functionally exposed.

"Too many clothes," Elara murmured against his mouth, her fingers working at the buttons of his shirt with focused determination. "You’re wearing entirely too many clothes."

"You’re one to talk," he countered, but he was already helping her, shrugging out of his shirt while she worked on his belt.

"My clothes are mostly off," she pointed out, stepping back just enough to let her robes fall completely to the floor. She stood there in just her undergarments – delicate white fabric that contrasted beautifully with her skin, cut to be both modest and enticing. "See? Efficient."

Damien’s breath caught.

He’d seen her like this countless times, but it never stopped affecting him. The curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts barely contained by the fabric, the way her golden hair fell across her shoulders framing everything perfectly.

"Beautiful," he said for the millionth time, and meant it.

Elara’s smile softened. "Flattery will get you everywhere." Her hands returned to his belt, this time succeeding in unfastening it. "But I’d prefer action to words right now."

She pushed his trousers down, her hands bold and confident despite the slight flush coloring her cheeks.

When her fingers wrapped around his already-hardening length through his undergarments, Damien made a sound he’d deny later.

"Already responding," Elara observed with satisfaction. "Good. I was worried you might need more convincing."

"You showed up half-naked and asked directly," Damien managed. "Convincing was accomplished immediately."

"Also good." She freed him from the remaining fabric, her hand stroking him with practiced familiarity. "Because we have limited time and I want to make the most of it."

Her touch was confident, knowing exactly how he liked it – firm pressure, steady rhythm, her thumb occasionally brushing the sensitive head in ways that made his hips jerk involuntarily.

Damien’s hands found the fastenings of her undergarments, removing them with less grace than he’d prefer but adequate efficiency.

When she stood completely bare before him, skin flushed with arousal, eyes bright with desire, he had to pause just to appreciate it.

"Stop looking and start touching," Elara instructed, but her voice carried warmth beneath the command.

He obliged, his hands exploring skin he’d mapped countless times but still found endlessly fascinating.

The curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, the weight of her breasts in his palms. Elara made soft sounds of approval, her own hands never stopping their work on his length.

"I need you," she breathed, stepping closer until they were pressed together, his erection trapped between their bodies. "Right now. On the desk, against the wall, I don’t care where. Just need you inside me."

The raw want in her voice made Damien’s decision for him.

He turned her, lifting her to sit on the edge of the desk, papers and maps scattering to the floor in a cascade of important intelligence that neither of them cared about right now.

Elara spread her legs immediately, making room for him to step between them. Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging in slightly.

"Yes," she encouraged. "Just like this. Perfect angle."

Damien positioned himself at her entrance, feeling the heat of her even before contact. She was already wet – not just ready, but eager, her body responding to arousal with clear physical evidence.

He pushed in slowly, despite knowing she could take him easily.

Elara’s head fell back, a low moan escaping as he filled her inch by inch. "Don’t – don’t go slow. We don’t have time for slow."

Damien increased his pace, sliding deeper with each thrust until he was fully seated inside her.

"Gods," Elara gasped, her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him impossibly closer. "Yes. This. Exactly this."

He started moving – measured strokes that went deep, making sure she felt every inch of him. The desk creaked slightly under their combined weight, and somewhere in the back of his mind Damien registered that this was definitely going to leave marks on the furniture.

Elara didn’t seem to care.

Her hands roamed his back, his shoulders, anywhere she could reach, touching him like she needed the contact as much as the sex itself.

"Harder," she requested, her voice breathy.

Damien obliged, his hips snapping forward with more force. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the study, punctuated by Elara’s increasingly vocal appreciation.

"Like that – yes – exactly like that – " Her words dissolved into moans as he found the angle that made her see stars, hitting that perfect internal spot with each thrust.

Her breasts moved with the rhythm, and Damien couldn’t resist leaning down to capture one nipple in his mouth. Elara’s response was immediate and gratifying – her back arched, pressing herself more firmly against him, a cry of pleasure that she quickly muffled by biting her own hand.

"Quiet," Damien reminded her, though he didn’t slow down. "Servants might hear."

"Don’t care," Elara gasped, but she did lower her volume slightly. "Let everyone know you’re fucking the High Priestess on a desk in the middle of imperial business."

The crude language from someone normally so proper was incredibly arousing.

Damien increased his pace again, driven by her words and the way her body was responding – inner walls clenching around him, her breathing getting faster, the flush spreading down her chest.

"Close," she warned. "I’m already close – you feel too good – "

"Then come," Damien said, one hand moving between them to find her clit. "Let me feel it."

His fingers worked the sensitive bundle of nerves in rhythm with his thrusts, and Elara made a sound that was almost a sob – pleasure overwhelming, building toward the inevitable peak.

"Damien – I’m – I can’t – "

"Yes you can," he encouraged, his own control starting to fray from the sensation of being inside her, from watching her come apart.