The Devil's Betrothed novel Chapter 363

Chapter 363: Touch Me

Gently, she cradled his forlorn countenance in her dainty hands, her voice tender yet resolute, "Your Highness, I desire you as well, but you are inebriated. Please, listen to me."

In this moment, Oriana’s honesty mirrored his own emotions, but she remained steadfast, guarding against the allure of surrendering to passion. As a woman, she couldn’t afford to lose herself in this intoxicating moment. Yet, she held a quiet confidence that, even in his drunken state, he would heed her words.

Her admission ’I want you as well’ served as a balm to the intoxicated man’s wounded pride, averting the sting of rejection. He closed his eyes, their foreheads touching, their noses lightly grazing, enveloped in the embrace of her alluring scent.

"What am I suppose to do with you?" he murmured softly, his words scarcely more than a whisper. With tender kisses, he traced a path from her lips to her cheeks, following the graceful curve of her jawline before finding solace nestled at the crook of her neck, where her silk like hair converged.

He inhaled deeply, her hair scented like a musk, which reminded him of the deer, their first encounter and so on. Her hair not just beautiful but had unique scent that held the memories of those sweet moments.

Meanwhile, Oriana felt a surge of relief as she sensed his earnest attempt to grasp her predicament. She continued, her voice carrying a mixture of vulnerability and conviction, "Your Highness, I am a woman and there are limits...I cannot... You understand what I mean, don’t you?"

Her sweet scent had a calming effect on him, but at the same time, it seduced him, stirring desire within him. He heard her words, yet his body longed to follow its own desires, irrespective of his mind’s protests.

"Then, use other means," his voice husky and intimate, murmured into her ear. His fevered lower body pressed against hers in a way that almost drew a gasp from her lips, un undeniable hardness nestle between her thighs. This electric sensation heightened her awareness of their precarious situation, burdened with desires.

’Other means?’ Oriana pondered, utterly confounded by his inebriated discourse. ’I must get him off of my body. Being close like this, it’s defiantly a torture for me as well.’ She wished to move him off her body, but he was simply too heavy.

On the other hand, his persistence knew no bounds, and he spoke once more, his voice an orchestra of muted suffering and fervent desire, laying profoundness of his want. "I feel like I would die...You must take action..." His face nestle against her neck intimately, "I can no longer endure this torment...."

His entreating, subdued words arrested her, shattering her determination to push him aside.

"What... do you wish me to do... Your Highness?"

"Help me." he responded, his actions now shifting as he delicately began to nibble on the tender skin of her neck.

"How?" she asked, her voice quivering in response to his actions.

"Touch me," his voice, husky and impatient, resonated with unspoken need for intimacy.

Oriana’s pulse quickened as her womanly instincts whispered caution, yet beneath their warning, a relentless curiosity beckoned her toward the forbidden. Her hands hesitated briefly at his shoulders, their touch lingering just enough. Unable to resist, she finally inquired.

"I don’t understand." her shaking voice, barely audible.

Arlan, though intoxicated, intimacy with her seemed to have sparked the clarity within him. The imperative need to have his mate was asserting itself. He abandoned his playful attention to her neck and elevated his gaze to meet hers.

His drunk, lustful eyes, tinged with almost crimson desire, locked onto her anxious ones. His gaze trailed along the outline of her swollen lips, fixated on that small inviting mouth of hers. The anxiousness in her eyes seemed to have snapped him back and he instead held her hand with his, separating it from his shoulder.

Oriana allowed him to guide her hand, her senses engulfed by his lustful gaze. Her heart raced at the intensity with which he regarded her, a look that seemed to seduce and beckon her to surrender to his desires.

Staring straight into her eyes, while balancing himself up at the elbow of his one hand, Arlan guided her hand, tracing a sensual path downward.

Oriana, captivated by his gaze, remained fixated as her hand moved along his body, feeling those taut shapely muscles under her touch. ’Touch him? Is this what I need to do?’ The question lingers as her touch continued, meandering down his stomach until it paused at his pants.

It was only then he spoke, "Unbutton it," and she snapped back to reality.

Realising where her hand had ventured, Oriana questioned, "Why?" She knew the answer but her anxious nerves compelled her to ask.

"So that you can help me while preserving your chastity."

"I..don’t..know..." She tried to avoid looking at him, her voice barely audible, she tried to pull her hand back.

"You will learn," he interjected, guiding her hand firmly back to the edge of his pants.

Oriana recalled her own moments of pleasure on the night of the ball in Othinian palace, the moments when he had asked her nothing in return. But now, he needed this, so she resolved to provide it despite her inexperience.