AU: Jackson is the heir to the Avery throne, and April is meant to only be his servant.
"Sir-"
"Do not call me that. We are almost of the same age."
She sighs, head throwing back and eyes meeting the ceiling, "That may be true, but we definitely are not of the same ranking."
"And?" He blinks, mouth pressed to her shoulder, teeth nibbling against her naked flesh.
"And the Queen would have me shipped off to satisfy dirty old swordsmen if she knew."
Jackson, heir to the Avery throne and prince of twenty-nine years, rolls his eyes, hands grasping the backs of her knees and pulling her against him, clothed legs rubbing into a friction.
She closes her eyes when he slips a hand up the front of her nightgown, palm slowly grazing her skin. Damn him.
"My mother would not punish you for satisfying me."
"She would make me a whore."
And she is nothing of the sort. She is new, an amateur, almost untouched except by his hands and mouth.
"But I believe that you are supposed to be mine."
"I am already yours." April informs him. She isn't meant to be. She's meant to assist, clean, serve. She isn't supposed to be slipping between the Prince's sheets that she'd made earlier that morning
He smiles against her skin, mouth moving down her slim body and hands grasping the sides of her gown. He balls the cloth between his fists, holding it by her waist and pressing his nose to her pelvis.
She moves her hands to reach for him, to bring him back to her, to pull him away before he does what she knows he's tempted to.
"You should never dress."
April giggles softly, red hair swaying as she moves to sit up, hands grasping the sides of his face and he shifts up to face her.
"You must be a mad man." She tells him, opening her legs to wrap around him as he kneels in front of her, his larger hands still holding her white gown.
"You must make me one." Jackson teases back, lifting himself to kiss her, lips pressed to hers eagerly with need, with lust. She willingly opens her mouth, teeth sharply greeting his tongue and he smirks against her lips, moving his hands to her now bare thighs.
His pulls away from her, lips and tongue tracing her skin tenderly as he moves down her body like he was studying a map, masterly learning about every inch of her pure flesh. He pushes her back slightly, tongue curled and teeth softly biting down on her nipple through the material of her gown. He repeats the same, simultaneously pulling down the straps of the dress to see her.
April moans gently, legs pulling up beside him, and hands holding onto his sides as he makes his way across and down her body, sliding the gown down her legs when it pools around her hips. The cloth of her panties doesn't do much to cover her modesty, her purity.
"You should never dress."
"I must, otherwise your mother would force me into another man's arms."
"And would you want to be there?"
"I only enjoy the comfort of your own. I only enjoy you. Do you enjoy me?"
He smirks, pushing himself up by pressing his hands to the headboard. He shuffles closer to her, green eyes gazing into hers lovingly, and she bites her lip when she feels his reaction pressed to her barely covered mound, "Very much."
"Am I your whore?"
His forehead creases though he softly smiles, lips kissing her chin and jaw line, "Do you want to be?"
"I want to have your love." She grasps his shoulders, pushing her naked chest to his, breath against his neck. She takes a deep breath when he slips a hand down between her legs, fingers cupping her soaked center.
"Then, let me make love to you."
