The gallery outside was silent but if someone drew closer to the Queen's chamber they would hear the moans of a certain woman in heat.
Warm candlelight flickers across the heavy drapes and spills golden pools over the wide bed.
Raven is bent forward at the very edge of the mattress, knees braced on the silk coverlet, black hair spilling wild down her back and brushing the sheets. Her palms press flat into the bedding, fingers curling every time Adrian drives in again.
He stands behind her, lean hips flush to her rear, one hand wrapped low around the dramatic curve of her waist while the other slides up the elegant arch of her spine, pressing just enough to keep her arched exactly how he wants.
Every slow, deliberate thrust sinks him deep; the wet sound of their bodies meeting is soft but unmistakable in the quiet room.
"Adrian…" she moaned, her voice making it hard for him to hold back.
