Crimson and Gold

After the bath, which took place in rather awkward circumstances, Saria was led by the maid to the dining hall in the villa.

Fortunately, after the embarrassing exchange, Rosa the Admiring Maid stopped stealing glances at Saria. She never made any underhanded comments or acted out of line either, so the mood between them quickly returned to normal.

Or at least to a state that wouldn’t look suspicious.

While Saria’s remark about the Princess potentially deadly fit of jealousy was mostly a joke, she really didn’t want Lysandra to know about it.

The reason for it was simple.

Not only was the incident insignificant, but more importantly, the trip to the villa was supposed to be only about them.

Saria saw how eager Lysandra was to spend the time just the two of them, and she shared this feeling as well.

After the madness of the past couple of weeks, they deserved to have a moment for themselves. Saria didn’t want to risk ruining it over something so small.

Seeing Lysandra chat with her happily during dinner confirmed that it was indeed a good decision.

Once the feast was over, they moved to the bedroom they were sharing during the stay.

“Would you like some wine?” Lysandra asked, once there were just the two of them.

“First the feast, now the wine,” Saria smirked, “if this is how the followers of Astesis usually celebrate, I might actually become one myself.”

Lysandra gazed at her from under her long eyelashes and filled two cups, clearly prepared for the occasion, with wine.

She handed the goblet to Saria, and the two of them sat comfortably on the settee.

“The celebration isn’t over yet,” Lysandra teased. Her lips carried the cunning smile she showed when planning something brazen and maybe a little scandalous.

“Oh?” Saria twirled the wine in her goblet and watched her curiously. “I’m all ears then. What should we do next?”

The Princess didn’t say anything, biting her lip. Mischief flickered in eyes, quickly replaced by something wilder.

She put away her own cup, then Saria’s on the table, but after a moment of thought, she decided to move them to the credenza further away.

Then, after returning to her seat, Lysandra answered Saria’s question with a kiss. A long, deep, passionate kiss that left them breathless.

One, they yearned for so long.

Saria leaned back just slightly. “Is this why we came here?” she teased.

“Do you want to be interrupted by someone knocking on the door again?” Lysandra whispered against her lips. Her hot breath fell somewhere between a threat and a plea. Both equally unfair, in Saria’s eyes.

“No.” The answer came instantly.

“That’s what I thought,” the sentence drowned in another kiss. Even more fervent than the previous one.

Their bodies clashed in a messy, impatient embrace. They had anticipated this moment for far too long to be subtly dancing on the edge.

They wanted to fall.

Lysandra found the pin on Saria’s shoulder and undid it, freeing the fabric of her dress. The chiffon slid down, exposing the tantalizing view.

The gust of wind licked her naked skin, stealing an inaudible gasp.

Her chest rose and fell, following her quickened breath.

The rhythm lured in Lysandra’s voracious gaze. It lingered on her breasts, then trailed to the seductive curve of her waist and hips, and traced the alluring contour of her toned stomach.

Her eyes, darkened with desire, snapped back to Saria’s face as her hand followed the trail marked by her gaze.

Feeling how she tensed and quivered under her touch, then leaned into it, chased it, and expelled the last ounce of restraint left in Lysandra.

She pushed Saria back and straddled her.

Her pulsing heat pressed hard against her sculpted abdomen and rolled hungrily, driven by yearning she couldn’t control anymore.

She could feel the hard structure of the muscles hidden under the soft skin. Her swollen flesh studied every curve, every dip, desperately searching for the unraveling friction.

Waiting for this moment for so long, she inevitably explored it in her restless dreams. But even the dreams couldn’t prepare her for the pleasure she felt.

Lysandra trembled as the burning, overwhelming thrill washed over her body.

She pulled down the straps of her dress. The sheer fabric fell, revealing her chest.

She took Saria’s hands and invited them to explore.

Her searing touch, so charmingly shy at first, quickly grew more relaxed, more confident under her impatient guidance.

The fingers brushed against the hardened buds, rolled them between, and played before her palms cupped her breasts and squeezed, drawing a stifled moan.

Saria tried sitting up, but Lysandra pushed her back.

She leaned over and looked into her eyes. The golden irises shimmering with want.

“Not… yet…” she forced between gasps.

The tempo of her hips increased. The moves became frantic, ravishing. Her body limped from the incensing feeling between her legs.

Saria’s hands found her hips and grasped them tightly before pressing down. The muscles of her core tightened under the flesh soaking with want.

Lysandra cried out in pleasure, lost in the touch.

Her mind went blank.

She gave in fully to the uncontrollable fire set ablaze.

The moans turned to breathless cries.

Her hips ground against her lover harder and faster.

The satisfaction erupted.

Her body tensed.

Her lips cried out.

The final thrust sent her over the edge.

She trembled from the maddening ecstasy and fell into Saria’s embrace.

But her yearning wasn’t satisfied just yet.

After waiting for so long, she wanted more of Saria. More of her touch, more of her taste. She wanted to die in her arms over and over again, until that ravenous hunger was satiated.

Her rugged breath ghosted against her neck, Lysandra’s husky voice whispered in her ear. “I want you on top of me.”

Saria gasped.

Her arms coiled around the Princess before lifting her and switching their positions.

Their naked bodies pressed tightly together, hungry for one another.

Lysandra looked into her eyes. The crimson irises clouded, almost absent. She saw how close to the edge Saria was.

All she needed to take the plunge, to allow herself to fall into that yearning, was a little encouragement.

So Lysandra kissed her passionately. She bit her lip and pulled her hair.

With the voice thick with need, she gave her the final push.

“Take me.”

Saria’s eyes dimmed as she fell.

Her hands found the dress that slid down to Lysandra’s hips and ripped it off.

Her palm disappeared between her legs and rubbed against the slick heat with slow, exasperating strokes.

Lysandra stifled a cry, biting into Saria’s neck.

She begged, pleaded for more. She groaned in frustration when she kept being denied that filling touch she desired so much.

Saria kept teasing and playing with her need, observing how her expressions changed with every motion of her fingers.

The frustration turned to hope. Disappointment replaced by sudden ecstasy kept washing over her face like a tide.

It excited her. Emboldened her. Made her crave more.

Saria’s slender fingers plunged inside, ravishing the inviting flesh.

Lysandra’s back arched, her hips angled, luring her deeper.

“Harder,” she moaned, wrapping her arms around Saria’s neck.

The fingers inside twitched, then obeyed.

Saria thrust deep, hard. She curled her fingers and pressed on the spot swollen with desire.

Lysandra cried out.

The sight of her, her beautiful face contorted from ecstasy, was like a drug. The more Saria took it in, the more she wanted.

Her body obediently followed the rhythm dictated by Lysandra’s need.

The feeling of her being undone by her touch intoxicated her.

Her palm cupped her sensitive flesh and ground against the swollen bud.

Lysandra wrapped her legs around her waist and pulled her closer. The desperate plea not to stop. Not now. Not when she was on the verge of breaking.

Her nails dug into Saria’s skin and grazed her neck. Deep red marks bloomed under her fingers, like proof of the maddening pleasure she felt.

Lysandra tensed in her arms, the searing heat inside her raging under the relentless thrust of her fingers.

She moaned and screamed, giving herself to the satisfaction she yearned for.

The fervent thrill washed over her, burning her to cinders. Melting her senses, consuming her flesh.

The climax left her crying out incoherently against Saria’s lips, moaning her name as if the sound itself was the source of her pleasure.

They lost themselves in another kiss. Sweeter and gentler, that guided Lysandra’s dazed mind back to reality. Back to Saria.

Their tangled bodies fell on the settee, embracing one another tenderly.

Once her breath calmed down, a mischievous smile bloomed on Saria’s face. “That was a very memorable celebration. Perhaps I really should convert.”

Lysandra opened her eyes and looked at Saria. Her lips curved in a sly, confident smile. “Was? Who told you we’re done?” she rasped, and pulled her into another inciting kiss.