Chapter 25: A Night to Forget. Pt. 2

“This… is a surprise.”

The voice cut through the haze of his pleasure like a physical blow.

Ezra froze, his entire body seizing in panic. He knew that voice.

He knew who that was.

So, he didn’t dare look.

His hand was still wrapped around his slick cock, his other finger-deep inside himself. He tried to yank them away, to scramble for cover, but his limbs felt locked in place.

’I’m going to get banished…no, worse, I’m going to get executed.’

Humiliation, hot and corrosive, flooded him.

“Ezra, please look at me.” The tone was commanding, yet surprisingly gentle.

Shamefully, he turned his head.

The prince stood just inside the door, one hand still on the handle. His silhouette was broad and commanding against the dim light from the hallway.

But it was his eyes that Ezra focused on—bright, golden, and glowing faintly in the dark room, pinning Ezra to the spot.

Surprisingly, they weren’t filled with disgust or mockery, as Ezra had braced for. No.

In Ezra’s eyes, for some reason, the prince held a raw, unvarnished desire behind his golden eyes.

But that wasn’t possible.

“Y-Your Highness,” Ezra stammered, the words barely a whisper.

He finally managed to wrench his hands free, fumbling desperately for a discarded blanket to cover his nakedness, his gaping, slick-wet hole, his shame. “I-I can explain—”

The prince closed the door softly behind him. The click of the lock was deafening.

’Oh God. Is he…Is he going to kill me himself? Is he–’

The scent of strong spirits—fine whiskey, rich and smoky—began to mix with the cloying sweetness of Ezra’s heat, due to his sensitivity, his nose began to scrunch.

’Has he always smelled like this? Did he drink too much at the ball? No. That’s not the problem. The problem is he’s getting closer, and I need to do something. I need to apologize. I need to beg him to forgive me.’

The prince tilts his head.

Ezra was preparing to get on his knees and bow, however, the prince suddenly opens his lips to speak.

“Don’t stop on my account,” the prince said, his voice a low, rough purr that vibrated in the space between them.

“P-Pardon?”

Ezra stared, his mind a whirlwind of disbelief. He clutched the thin blanket to his chest, his knuckles white.

The prince smiles, watching him with an almost predatory gaze.

’What is happening? Isn’t he going to call for guards? Kill me?’

Instead, the prince’s hands went to the fastenings of his own royal tunic, fingers working the polished buttons with an unhurried ease.

“You look… strained,” the prince murmured, his gaze traveling over Ezra’s trembling form, lingering on the damp blanket barely concealing his lap. “Do you need help, Ezra?”

Help.

Help?

The word was a lifeline and a condemnation.

Was this a test?

Was the prince testing him?

Seeing what he would do?

Something was off.

First of all, the prince should be asking WHY he was in heat.

How could this happen?

But…he’s asking Ezra if he wants help?

“Well?” The prince asks again. “Don’t overthink it. I’m merely asking if you want my assistance…an omega needs an alpha. You need someone to make you feel good.”

Was he being genuine?

Was he actually serious?

Every fiber of his knight’s discipline, every shred of his pride, screamed at him to say no. To reject this madness.

He had to say no.

Especially since he wasn’t sure whether or not this was a test.

But his mouth, traitorous and dry, opened.

His voice, wrecked from moaning, came out in a broken, needy sigh. “…Yes.”

A slow smile touched the prince’s lips.

Ezra expected the prince to draw his sword, and behead him on the spot for daring to say yes.

But instead, he shrugged out of his tunic, letting it fall to the floor, making Ezra’s eyes widen.

’He’s…’

His chest was broad and sculpted.

’…unreal.’

Like a God.

Well, the royal family were practically Gods, but to think they weren’t just blessed with powers and good looks, they were also blessed with perfect bodies.

It was unfair.

The prince inhaled deeply as he approached the bed, the scent of alcohol on his breath mingling with his powerful Alpha musk. “God,” he breathed, the word slurred just slightly.

Oh.

Ezra’s eyes widened. ’Is he…Is he drunk?’

No wonder.

Everything was starting to make sense.

The prince was willing because he was drunk, much like how Ezra was only willing because of his heat.

“You smell… divine. He knelt on the edge of the nest, the mattress dipping under his weight. “You must’ve suffered for hours. My bed smells like you.”

His bed?

Since when did he have a bed in the main palace?

’Aren’t the princes supposed to already stay in their–’

“Stay focused on me, Ezra.” The prince suddenly spoke again.

The blanket was tugged gently from his clenched fingers.

Ezra could only whimper, his body arching involuntarily as the prince’s scent enveloped him, triggering a fresh, violent pulse of slick between his legs.

He was laid bare again, but this time under a heavy, desiring gaze.

“Let me help,” the prince whispered, his voice thick with drink and lust. “May I?”

’I already said yes.’ Ezra thought, biting his tongue as he didn’t want to answer, or let out another embarrassing noise.

A large, calloused hand slid up Ezra’s inner thigh. The touch was electric, searing through the hypersensitivity of his skin.

Ezra cried out, a sharp, shocked sound.

“I was asking you a question, Ezra.” the prince soothed, his other hand coming up to cradle Ezra’s jaw, his thumb brushing away a tear. “Now be a good little omega and answer me.”

The pet name sent a jolt of pure, submissive pleasure straight to Ezra’s core.

“Y-Yes.” He sobbed, his head falling back, his resistance dissolving into the primal need those words invoked.

The prince’s fingers trailed through the mess of slick between his cheeks, gathering the wetness, spreading it.

Then, a blunt pressure. Not a finger, but two. The prince pushed them inside without preamble, his golden eyes watching Ezra’s face.

“Ah! Y-Your Highness…too…too…” Ezra’s back bowed off the bed.

He wanted to say it was too much.

Because it was so much more than his own clumsy attempts.

However, the stretch was perfect, filling.

Too perfect.

Too filling.

The prince’s fingers were thick, scissoring gently, curling until they brushed a spot deep inside that made Ezra see white.

’Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.’ Ezra kept chanting inside his head.

How could that feel so good?

How could something like this feel so fucking good?

“You’re so wet, yet so tight.” the prince growled, his own breathing becoming labored. He worked his fingers in and out, the slick sounds obscenely loud. “You’ve been aching for this, haven’t you? Aching for an Alpha to claim you.”

No.

“Y-Yes,” Ezra panted, the confession torn from him.

His hips began to move, fucking himself on the prince’s hand, chasing that devastating friction. “P-Please… more.”

Was he actually begging?

The prince withdrew his fingers, and Ezra whimpered at the loss.

“W-Why…?” Ezra couldn’t help but ask.

The prince didn’t answer, but he heard the rustle of more clothing, the clink of a belt.

Then the prince was over him, hovering, his body a furnace of heat and muscle.

And then Ezra saw it.

Oh.

Oh no.

How was that possible?

“Since you asked so nicely.” The prince says with a smirk.

“T-That…That thing…it won’t fit.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep