🔞🔞🔞🔞In the capital of Asch, the betrayal took on a new, more twisted shape. Lydia had finally realized that Emrys was a fortress she could not breach; his heart was a shrine dedicated only to Callista. Her rejection had curdled into a cold, calculated ambition. If she could not rule the son, she would seduce the father—King Damon Draven.
Damon was a man of fading fire, a ruler who had spent his years watching his children with a mixture of pride and growing suspicion. He sat in his private study, the air smelling of old parchment and expensive tobacco, when a soft knock disturbed the silence.
"Enter,"
he commanded.
Lydia stepped into the room. She had traded her royal silks for a traveling dress of deep crimson, but the tailoring was scandalous.
The bodice was laced so tightly that her breasts seemed ready to spill over the edge, their pale curves shimmering in the candlelight. Her hair was loose, cascading over her shoulders in dark, wild waves.
"Your Majesty,"
Lydia whispered, her voice trembling with a well-acted sorrow. She didn't bow; she stood there looking fragile, a tear tracking a path down her cheek.
Damon rose from his chair, his eyes narrowing as they raked over her.
"Lydia? It is late. Why are you not in my son's chambers?"
"Because your son has no room for me in his heart, or his bed,"
she cried softly, taking a step toward him.
"I am the Queen of Asch, yet I am treated like a leper. Am I... am I truly so undesirable, My King? Is there something so broken in me that even my husband cannot look at me?"
Damon felt a surge of ancient, protective instinct mixed with a sudden, sharp jolt of desire. He approached her, his presence heavy and authoritative.
"You are a jewel of Calligo, Lydia. Any man who cannot see your worth is a fool, even if he is my own blood."
Lydia seized the moment. She deliberately "stumbled," falling to her knees at his feet. As she looked up, the angle of her fall forced her breasts forward, offering him a breathtaking view of her heaving chest and the dark shadows of her cleavage.
"Then why am I so alone?"
she sobbed, clutching at the fabric of his royal tunic.
Damon’s resolve snapped. He reached down, his large, calloused hands cupping her face and forcing her to look at him. The power dynamic shifted instantly. He wasn't looking at his daughter-in-law; he was looking at a woman who was offering herself as a sacrifice to his ego.
He pulled her up and, with a rough motion, tore the laces of her dress. The crimson fabric fell to her waist, baring her completely to his gaze. Damon let out a guttural growl, his mouth crashing onto hers in a kiss that tasted of aged wine and old sins. He groped her breasts with a territorial hunger, his thumbs raking over her nipples as he claimed what his son had discarded.
Damon sucked Lydia's already swollen nipples, groping the other with his hands. Lydia let out a soft moan as she reached the for the king's cock.
She pulled away from Damon as she kneeled leveling her head into Damon's already hardened cock, holding it with her hands she started to caress it up and down and licks the tip with her tongue. Damon let out a growl as he holds Lydia's head forcefully making Lydia swallow his dick hole, hitting her deep throat. Lydia let out a moan as her mouth was ravaged by Damon's dick.
Damon pulled Lydia's hand and remove all her clothing.
Making her bare and naked. He throw her into the bed and opened her legs wide .
Licking and grazing her clit.
Lydia moans in satisfaction a sensation she never felt like before.
A smile crept into her lips a she close her eyes begging the king for more .
Damon inserted his cock into Lydia's dripping wet pussy. Filling every inch with his cock.
As he was nearing climax he agreesively pulled lydia into her back, inserting his dick agreesively making it hit Lydia's womb.
Lydia's insides were tightening from the sudden burst of Damon's agreesively entrance into her pussy making her reach her orgasm earlier than she wants to.
Damon continued to ramaged Lydia's pussy untill he cums on Lydia's back.
ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ
While Lydia secured her power in the South through the father's bed, the situation in Nevalis turned lethal.
Alistair stood over Ava in the snow, the crumpled letter from Callista now in his possession. He had read the words—the plan to escape, the mention of Lydia’s betrayal, and the desperate plea to Emrys.
His face was a mask of cold, terrifying calm. He looked at Ellara, who was being held by two guards, her face bloodied.
"So,"
Alistair said, his voice a low hiss.
"My bride is not just a lover of wolves; she is a master of spies."
Ava leaned against him, her hand sliding up his arm.
"She has played you, Alistair. While you were in her bed, she was plotting to bring the Asch army to our gates. She doesn't love you. She is a traitor to the crown of Nevalis."
Alistair looked up at the High Tower. His desire for Callista hadn't died, but it had been eclipsed by a need for vengeance.
"Bring the girl to the dungeons,"
he ordered, pointing at Ellara.
"And as for the Princess... she is to be confined into her room no one is allowed to give her food or any drink until I allow it to."
Ava’s eyes lit up with triumph.
Source: Novel: I love My Brother: Callista and Emrys
