Mirella sat at her table, waiting for dinner to be cleared. She wiped delicately at her mouth, the way a lady aught after a meal. Mirella looked haughtily at her servers, busy removing dishes and cleaning the table. It was a hard job being lady and heir to a castle and lordship. She had tired of it long ago, wishing to play at war with her friends in the village. Mirella was ten when her parents forbade her from seeing them. She was twelve the first time she was caught sneaking out. Not that it stopped Mirella, not for longer than a month anyhow. Mirella idly regretted finishing the book she'd recently acquired so quickly.
She was thinking about what book she should read next when she heard a crash. Her gaze snapped to a server, a man, who'd dropped one of the crystal cups she drank from.
"Milady, I am so sorry-" Mirella sneered at the man derisively.
"Can't manage to carry a glass? Really? Is everyone this incompetent, or just you?"
He flinched under her tirade, his blue eyes looking stoically at his feet. The other servers were hastily going on, steadily ignoring their poor compatriot. Mirella stood up and stalked over to her sitting area, throwing herself down in a chair.
"Well, you stupid idiot, don't just stand there. Clean it up."
She snarled at him. He fell to his hands and knees immediately, spreading a cloth over the spill while being careful not to cut his hands. Mirella watched him with scornful eyes, noticing the black hair that was so long it could cover his eyes, and the strong muscles in his shoulders and back, evident while he cleared the mess. She felt a hint of smile creeping across her face, but disciplined it quickly. The other servers, completing their duties, scurried out of the room to safety. The only one left was the clumsy servant cleaning the floor. She kept watching him as he picked up broken pieces of glass.
"I think you did that on purpose, servant."
Mirella said slowly, a trace of anger in her voice. His head shot up in surprise, his eyes focused on hers.
"Milady?" He asked, confused and clearly nervous. Mirella smiled lazily and stood. As she stalked toward him she murmured,
"I think. You spilled that. On purpose."
His eyes stayed on hers and he swallowed hard, frozen on the ground. Mirella stopped in front of him, then leaned down and pulled him up by his shirt. He faced her, eyes intense and very blue. She began to move forward, and he began to back up in response, her hand on his chest.
"M-Milady?" He asked, his voice gone slightly deeper and his breath coming faster. She looked at him from under her eye lashes, a deep, sultry look. His back found the wall and he expelled a sharp breath in surprise. And then Mirella was right against him, her breasts pressed against the front of his body, her hand now up on his shoulder. He looked up at the ceiling, almost panting now, and Mirella watched him with a smile as he swallowed. She leaned forward again and her lips found his throat. He gasped, eyes widening, and his arms quickly went around her waist as reacted to her touch. She gave a throaty chuckle, feeling his hands tightening convulsively on her hips.
"Did you...spill that...on purpose?"
She murmured softly, slowly, her lips moving on the hot skin of his throat. He groaned deeply, low in his throat, and didn't answer. Mirella's hands slid slowly down, mouth still on his throat, and gently slid her hands under his shirt. She moved her hands up, caressing the planes in his chest, thumbs stopping momentarily to rub his nipples. She felt the shudder run through him as he panted against her, his own hands moving up her back. His body was so tense, every muscle hard against her body. Every muscle, and other things too. She slid her hands from under his shirt and down again. She began to undo the strings on his pants.
"God," He gasped out, "You really know how to interrogate a guy."
Mirella laughed and slid one hand into his pants, touching gently as she went.
Suddenly, using his arms, he turned Mirella around and pressed her against the wall. She expelled an excited breath as his mouth found hers while she rubbed his cock. She pulled her mouth from his for a moment.
"Did you?" She asked breathlessly, a smile in her voice, and he laughed in response. It tempered into a moan as her other hand found his manhood.
"You...oh, god," He breathed, his head falling back as she sped up her hands, "You know I did." He managed, his voice coming out roughly. She grinned up at him, then pushed him forward gently and to the ground. She straddled him, hands on the floor to either side of his head. He pulled her dress over her head gently, and she shook out her hair as he threw it to the ground. Her long hair brushed his shoulders as she pushed her mouth against his again. Mirella moved her hips against his rhythmically, gleefully feeling him panting for breath in response. His hands were flat on the floor, bracing himself against her overwhelming attack. Mirella watched his eyes rolling back, could tell he was being driven almost past the point of thinking. Even in that state he wouldn't grab her, wouldn't initiate or try to force himself inside of her. She was royalty.
Mirella loved the feeling of him writhing below her, needing her, wanting her so desperately. With a wicked smile she shimmied out of her undergarments and tugged down his pants. He watched her as she moved, eyes half-closed with lust. She straddled him again, feeling his manhood rub against her wet opening.
"Touch me," She said to him softly, and it was all he had to hear. His hands wrapped around her waist, then moved up, his hands gliding over her ribs to her breasts. Mirella moaned as his fingers massaged her nipples, driving her breath faster. His blue eyes found hers and they were fiery with need.
"Please, Mir," He whispered, "Please." She leaned over him and put her mouth on his. His hands stayed on her breasts, supporting her as she reached between them, lifted herself up and slid his length inside her. She felt his back arch against her in his excitement and it made her even hotter. She moaned into his mouth as they began to move together. With a gentle hand he pushed her to her side, then beneath him. He lay on top of Mirella and thrust inside her rhythmically, one hand continually rubbing a nipple while the other supported his weight. His shirt had come off sometime in the melee, leaving his bare chest against hers. They were both moaning with pleasure as they moved faster together, her hands feeling the sharp lines of his shoulder blades. He moved faster, groaning with each thrust, until his body tensed, the muscles of his abdomen rippling as he came with a quiet cry.
