Rejected Luna Queen

Nesta’s POV

When Maria came to summon me, I took a deep breath, steadying myself before speaking.

“Maria, could you get me some nice red lingerie? Something elegant,” I asked, my voice calm but firm.

Maria’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, questions clearly dancing in her eyes, but she nodded without hesitation.

“Of course, Nesta,” she replied softly, turning to leave.

As she walked away, I could feel her curiosity lingering in the air. I hadn’t confided in her about everything that was happening, not yet.

Maria was my only friend in this palace, the one person I could truly lean on. I would tell her when the time was right. For now, I needed to keep some things to myself.

A short while later, Maria returned with a beautiful set of red lingerie. The delicate lace and satin shimmered in the light, a striking contrast to my pale skin.

She helped me into it, her hands gentle and reassuring. As she adjusted the straps and smoothed out the fabric, I felt a mix of emotions swirling inside me. Anxiety, anticipation, and a strange sense of determination.

“Are you alright?” Maria asked, her voice filled with concern as she stepped back to admire her handiwork. Her eyes scanned my face, searching for any sign of what I was truly feeling.

I offered her a small, grateful smile. “I will be. Thank you, Maria. For everything.”Content is © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

She smiled back, though I could see the worry still etched in her features. “You know you can talk to me anytime, right?”

“I know,” I replied, my voice soft. “I will, I promise.”

As she left, I took a moment to look at myself in the mirror. The red lingerie hugged my curves, accentuating my small bump and flared hips.

The sight of myself like this, preparing for what lay ahead, filled me with a strange mixture of strength and vulnerability. I know this is me throwing his earlier action back at him but still.

I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. Whatever came next, I would face it head–on. I had to. For Luca, for Elara, and for myself.

I made my way to Nolan’s room, the hallway still very much light. Seeing the door to his room reminded me that my art room is just the door after. Was that intentional? Did Queen Mother do that on purpose?

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Nolan’s spent, rich and intoxicating, filled the room making my senses whirl. He rolled o delicious, like a blend of pirse and musk, pure and anadulterated. The primal, raw aroma of him made my body responsel in ways i couldn’t control.

He stopped directly in front of me, his eyes dark with desire. His lips parted slightly as he took in the sight of me, the sheer fabric leaving little to the imagination.

My teardrop breasts, the slight swell of my belly, the flared hips, and the triangle of lightly blonde hair covering my pussy were all on display.

“Damn,” he murmured, his voice rough with want. He reached out a hand, almost hesitantly, as if touching me would break the spell.

His fingertips grazed my collarbone, sending shivers down my spine. He traced a line down my chest, his touch light and teasing. My breath hitched, and I fought to maintain my composure, even as my body screamed for more.

Nolan’s eyes met mine, the defiance in my gaze clearly fueling his desire. “You’re here to make my life hell, aren’t you?” he whispered, his lips curving into a predatory smile.

I said nothing, my silence a challenge of its own. I could feel the tension between us, thick and electric, as he continued to circle me, his eyes devouring every inch of my exposed skin.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Pixie,” he murmured, his voice a low, seductive growl.

A shiver of anticipation ran through me, and I met his gaze head–on. “I know,” I whispered back, my voice steady despite the pounding of my heart. “But I’m not the one who started this.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of something deeper, something more than just desire. But then it was gone, replaced by the raw hunger that had drawn us together time and time again.

Nolan’s eyes darkened with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.

Without warning, his hand shot out, fisting my hair and pulling me close. The suddenness of his grip made my breath catch, and before I could react, his lips were on mine.

He kissed me with a ferocity that bordered on desperation, as if I were his last meal. His mouth moved against mine with a hunger that left no room for gentleness.

His tongue pressed against my lips, demanding entry, and I parted them, letting him in. Our tongues met in a heated clash, a battle for dominance.

He tasted of power and possession, and I couldn’t help but respond, my own tongue pushing back against his. The kiss was fierce and unrelenting, a storm of passion and need that left me breathless.

He pulled me even closer, his grip on my hair tightening. His other hand found the small of my back, pressing me against his hard body. The feel of his muscles against me, the heat radiating from him, only fueled the fire burning within me.

Our tongues tangled, twisted, and explored, each stroke igniting sparks of pleasure. He teased and taunted, drawing out my moans, and I matched him move for move, refusing to back down. The kiss was a raw, primal dance, a collision of desire that consumed us both.

His teeth grazed my lower lip, a hint of pain mingling with the pleasure, and I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders. He took advantage of the moment, deepening the kiss, his tongue plunging deeper into my mouth, tasting and claiming every inch.

The intensity of the kiss left me dizzy, my senses overwhelmed by him. His scent, his taste, the feel of his body against mine–all of it combined to create a heady, intoxicating mix that I couldn’t resist.

When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard, our lips swollen and tingling. He kept his grip on my hair, his eyes locked onto mine, dark with desire and something else I couldn’t quite name.

I licked my lips, savoring the taste of him that lingered there, my body still humming with the aftermath of our heated kiss.