Heirs of Desire

**Chapter 1: The Scent of Obligation**

Frieda stood at the threshold of Regulus’s bedroom, the heavy oak door creaking shut behind her with a finality that made her stomach twist. The air was thick with the scent of the oils the maids had slathered on her—jasmine, amber, and something musky that clung to her skin like a second layer. Her silk robe, a deep crimson, whispered against her thighs as she took a tentative step forward. She’d knocked, bowed her head as custom demanded, but now, as her eyes met his, she felt the quiet storm within her begin to churn.

Regulus sat at the edge of his four-poster bed, a glass of amber liquor in his hand, his dark eyes appraising her with the cold precision of a predator sizing up prey. He was still dressed in his evening attire, the crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a sliver of taut, tanned skin. His presence was imposing, even in repose, and Frieda hated how it made her pulse quicken despite herself.

“So, they’ve sent you to me like a prized mare to stud,” he drawled, his voice low and cutting, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he set the glass down on the bedside table. “Did they think a bath in perfume would make this any less of a transaction?”

Frieda’s jaw tightened, but she kept her chin high, her hazel eyes flashing with a defiance she rarely let surface. “If I’m a mare, then what does that make you, Regulus? A stallion too proud to even graze the same field?” Her voice was steady, sharp as a blade, and it sliced through the tension in the room.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting the retort. A low chuckle escaped him, dark and dangerous. “Oh, Frieda, careful now. I might just take that as a challenge.” He stood, his height looming as he closed the distance between them in two languid strides. The heat of his body was palpable even through the space that remained, and Frieda felt an unwelcome thrill skitter down her spine.

She didn’t step back, though every instinct screamed to. Instead, she tilted her head up to meet his gaze, her lips curling into a smirk of her own. “A challenge? Good. I’d hate for this to be boring. Your parents are practically pacing the halls waiting for heirs, and I’m not one to disappoint—unlike some.”

Regulus’s eyes darkened, a flicker of something raw and untamed passing through them. “You’ve got a mouth on you tonight. I wonder if it’s as bold in other ways.” His hand reached out, fingertips brushing the edge of her robe where it draped over her shoulder, the touch light but electric.

Frieda’s breath hitched, but she swatted his hand away with a flick of her wrist, her smile never wavering. “Touch me like that again without earning it, and you’ll find out just how bold I can be—with a knee to your precious lineage.”

He laughed then, a genuine, throaty sound that sent a shiver through her. “Feisty. I like that. Maybe this won’t be such a chore after all.” He stepped closer still, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Tell me, Frieda, are you as wet with anticipation as they’ve made your skin with those oils, or is this all just duty?”

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t falter, her own voice dipping to match his intensity. “Why don’t you find out for yourself, Regulus? Or are you all talk and no action, as I’ve suspected these past months?”

The challenge hung between them, heavy and charged, as his hand hovered near her waist again, this time with a question in his eyes. Frieda’s heart pounded, her body betraying her with a heat she couldn’t ignore, a dripping need she refused to name. She knew the moment she gave the slightest nod, there’d be no turning back—his cock would be hard against her, her pussy aching for more than just words, and the room would fill with the sounds of their sweating, panting collision. But for now, she held the power, and she reveled in it, waiting for him to make the next move.