Chapter 19: Cream-Filled Kisses
The lingering taste of lavender and spent lust still clung to Teresa’s skin as she moved through the silent corridors, the memory of Callum’s release and Maeve’s tongue a secret warmth in her belly. The castle felt different now, every shadowed alcove holding potential, every closed door a possible theater for her reclaimed agency. But the gilded cage had rules, and one of them was a morning meeting with Princess Amberley Ashwick to discuss trade routes—a duty she could not ignore.
Amberley’s chambers were a spectacle of curated opulence, all gilded mirrors and heavy velvet drapes the color of dried blood. The air smelled of aged rosewood and warm candle wax, undercut by a faint, sweet perfume. A fire crackled low in the grand hearth, casting a dancing light over a chessboard by the window, a game left in mid-play.
“Teresa,” Amberley said, rising from a divan. She was a vision of contrasting allure, her dark hair flowing over a gown of deep emerald green that mirrored her eyes. Her kindness was genuine, but Teresa had learned to see the sharp curiosity behind it. “You look… unusually vibrant this morning.”
“Do I?” Teresa let a slow smile touch her lips. “Perhaps it’s the prospect of discussing tariffs.”
Amberley laughed, a sound like bell-chimes. “Liar. Come, sit. I’ve had spiced wine brought.”
They spoke of mundane things—the harvest, the unreliable passes through the northern mountains, the alignment of their kingdoms against the growing influence of the eastern consul. The conversation was a delicate dance, but Teresa’s mind kept wandering to the heat between her thighs, the phantom ache of recent use. She watched Amberley’s full lips as they shaped diplomatic words, remembered the voyeuristic hunger in Maeve’s eyes.
She was deciding how to steer the conversation toward less official channels when the door to the antechamber opened, and Captain Nathaniel “Nate” Williamson entered. He was in full guard regalia, his stance rigid, his weathered face a mask of stoic duty. His eyes, however, flicked to Teresa for a fraction of a second too long—a fracture in his composure she knew intimately.
“Your Highnesses,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “A report from the western gatehouse.”
He delivered it with soldierly efficiency, but Teresa barely heard a word. She was remembering the weight of him in the garden, the possessive grip of his hands, the raw, unfiltered claim he’d staked on her body. She saw the way Amberley’s eyes traveled over Nate’s broad shoulders, the slight flush that touched her throat. An idea, dangerous and perfect, crystallized in Teresa’s mind.
When Nate finished and made to leave, Teresa spoke. “Stay, Captain. Your assessment of the western pass would be valuable. Princess Amberley’s caravans use it frequently.”
Nate hesitated, his duty warring with the unspoken command in her tone. “As you wish, Your Highness.”
He remained by the door, a statue of loyalty and tension. Teresa turned back to Amberley, leaning forward to pour more wine, letting the neck of her gown gap slightly. “You know, Amberley,” she said casually, “for all our treaties, our kingdoms rarely share anything of true… substance.”
Amberley’s emerald eyes held hers. “What did you have in mind?”
Teresa set her goblet down with a soft click. She stood and walked over to the chessboard, moving a knight to put Amberley’s king in check. Then she turned. “I think you find me attractive.”
The room went utterly still. The fire popped. Amberley’s breath caught, but she didn’t look away. A slow, daring smile curved her lips. “You are remarkably perceptive.”
“And you,” Teresa said, her gaze shifting to Nate, who had gone very still by the door, “are loyal to your princess. In all things.”
She crossed the room to him. She could see the pulse hammering in his neck. “You’re off duty, Captain. The door is closed.” She reached up and began to unbuckle his ceremonial gorget, her fingers deft. “Your princess commands you to be at ease.”
“Teresa,” he murmured, a warning and a plea in one word.
“She’s not just my princess right now, Nate,” Amberley said, her voice husky. She had risen, gliding across the floor to stand beside them. “She’s ours.”
That was all it took. Nate’s control, always a thin veneer around Teresa, shattered. He kissed her, a bruising, hungry kiss that tasted of duty and defiance. Teresa kissed him back with equal ferocity, her hands pulling at the straps of his armor. Amberley watched for a moment, her own breathing quickened, before her hands joined Teresa’s, helping to peel away the layers of leather and steel until Nate stood before them in just his linen shirt and trousers.
Amberley kissed Teresa then, a soft, exploring kiss that quickly deepened into something greedy. Their tongues met, and Teresa moaned into the other princess’s mouth, the taste of spiced wine and woman intoxicating. She felt Nate’s hands on the laces of her gown, wrenching them open with a soldier’s impatience. The fabric pooled at her feet.
“On the divan,” Teresa instructed, pulling Amberley with her.
Amberley lay back against the deep velvet, her dark hair fanning out. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted. Teresa climbed over her, straddling her hips, and kissed her again, deeper this time. She could feel Amberley’s heart pounding against her own chest. Behind her, she heard the rustle of Nate shedding his remaining clothes.
“Touch her,” Teresa said to Nate, not breaking her kiss with Amberley. “Make her ready.”
Nate’s large, calloused hands slid up Amberley’s stockinged legs, pushing her skirts up to her waist. He hooked his fingers in the delicate lace of her underthings and pulled, the fabric tearing with a sharp, erotic sound. Amberley gasped against Teresa’s mouth.
Teresa shifted back, settling her weight on Amberley’s thighs, and watched as Nate’s fingers found Amberley’s cunt. She was already wet, her folds glistening in the firelight. Nate stroked her, first gently, then with more purpose, working a thick finger inside her. Amberley’s head fell back, a low moan escaping her.
“More,” Teresa commanded.
Nate added a second finger, stretching her, his thumb circling her clit. Amberley’s hips bucked off the divan, her fingers digging into Teresa’s bare thighs. “Please…”
Teresa leaned forward, her breasts brushing Amberley’s face. “Tell him what you want.”
“I want your cock,” Amberley breathed, her politeness burned away by need. “I want you to fuck me with it. Now.”
Nate needed no further order. He positioned himself, the broad, veined head of his erection pressing against Amberley’s soaked entrance. He pushed forward, a slow, inexorable invasion that made Amberley cry out, her back arching. He buried himself to the hilt in one smooth, powerful stroke.
“Oh, god,” Amberley sobbed, her eyes rolling back.
Teresa watched, mesmerized, as Nate began to move. His thrusts were measured at first, deep and claiming, each one drawing a slick, filthy sound from Amberley’s body. Teresa felt the other princess’s muscles clenching around her thighs. The sight of Nate’s powerful hips driving into the willing, pliant royal beneath her was the most potent thing she’d ever seen.
She slid forward, bringing her own dampness to Amberley’s mouth. “Taste me,” she ordered.
Amberley’s tongue met her without hesitation, licking a hot, eager stripe through Teresa’s folds. Teresa groaned, grinding herself against Amberley’s face as Nate’s pace quickened. The divan creaked in a frantic rhythm. Nate’s breaths became ragged grunts, his hands gripping Amberley’s hips hard enough to bruise. His balls slapped wetly against her ass with every thrust.
“Fuck her harder,” Teresa panted, riding Amberley’s tongue. “Fill her up.”
Nate obeyed, his thrusts turning rough, almost brutal. Amberley’s moans were muffled against Teresa’s flesh, her fingers clutching at Teresa’s backside. Teresa could feel her own climax coiling, fed by the dual sensations—the skilled heat of Amberley’s mouth and the raw, visual power of Nate taking another woman at her command.
“I’m gonna cum,” Nate growled, the words torn from him.
“Do it,” Teresa gasped. “Inside her. Let it spill.”
With a final, driving thrust, Nate slammed deep and held, his body shuddering. A harsh, guttural sound ripped from his throat as he emptied himself into Amberley, pulse after hot pulse flooding her depths. Teresa felt Amberley’s orgasm trigger her own; she came with a sharp cry, her muscles seizing as she ground her clit against Amberley’s chin, waves of pleasure washing through her.
For a moment, there was only the sound of three people gasping for air. Nate collapsed slightly, bracing himself on his hands, his cock slowly softening inside Amberley, a mixture of their fluids beginning to leak out around where they were joined.
Teresa, still trembling, disentangled herself from Amberley. She moved up the divan and kissed Nate, a fierce, possessive kiss. He tasted of sweat and salt and Amberley’s arousal. She could feel the heat of his spent cock against her leg as she straddled his lap.
Breaking the kiss, she slid down his body. She knelt on the floor between Amberley’s splayed legs, where Nate’s seed was spilling out onto the velvet. Without a word, she lowered her head and licked, her tongue flat and firm, lapping up the creamy, salty mess from Amberley’s stretched, glistening pussy.
Amberley whimpered, her body twitching with oversensitivity. Teresa gathered the mixture on her tongue—the tang of Amberley, the bitter musk of Nate—and turned back to him. She kissed him again, pushing her tongue into his mouth, feeding him the taste of their combined climax.
He groaned, his hands cupping her face, kissing her back with a dizzying intensity, sharing the flavors of their transgression. It was filthy, degrading, and it made her power feel absolute.
When they finally parted, all three were panting, wrecked. Teresa rested her forehead against Nate’s chest, listening to his heart thunder. Amberley lay boneless on the divan, a beautiful, used tableau.
Nate’s hand came up, stroking her hair, his touch unexpectedly tender amidst the carnality. “Teresa,” he murmured, his voice raw.
She looked up at him, then over at Amberley, who was watching them with dazed, sated eyes. The chessboard sat forgotten by the window, a king in check. Teresa knew the game outside this room was far more complex. But here, on this velvet divan smelling of sex and rosewood, she had made her move.
“The trade treaty,” Teresa said, her voice steadying, though her body still hummed. “The terms are acceptable. We’ll sign it tomorrow.”
Amberley let out a breathy, incredulous laugh. “Just like that?”
“Just like that,” Teresa said, rising to her feet, naked and unashamed. She tasted them both on her lips, a secret triumph. The politics were just another kind of friction, and she was finally learning how to apply the pressure.