Prompt Post 4!
The first, second, and third posts are now shut down for prompting. All new prompts must be posted here. Any new prompts posted to Prompt Post 1, 2, and 3 will be deleted without warning.
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Part Two
They say we can love who we trust
But what is love without lust?
Two hearts with accurate devotions
And what are feelings without emotions?
Esmeralda smirks, her tongue darting from between ruby lips to savour the last of his seed. She straddles him, tracing the jagged lines of his body as he shudders beneath her, wanting her again.
"I have another gift for you."
"That does not answer my question, Esmeralda. And besides..." Frollo is himself once more, bold and proud, "There is nothing else I want. There is nothing else you could offer me to surpass this..."
He twists her dusky nipples with a dark chuckle. Esmeralda throws back her head, impaling herself upon his cock in one fluid motion, rolling her hips and sighing as he reaches up to draw his fingertips across her face, her throat, her breasts. He can't stop touching her, looking at her, wanting her, even when he is inside of her, even now when she belongs to him. She undulates, fluttering like a mare in heat as he pushes up, harder now, faster, chasing his climax.
Flushed, jade eyes gleaming with cruel desire, Esmeralda rides the waves of her own pleasure, watching him, waiting for him to reach that peak. When he finally begins to climb, jaw clenched and chest heaving, she drags him up by his wrists, curling her legs around his waist. She leans into him, holding him close, and whispers...
"The Court of Miracles, my dear Minister," Esmeralda smiles as Frollo gapes at her in disbelief, "I will give you the Court of Miracles. I will give you every gypsy in Paris."
He moans, whimpers her name, thrusting madly into her slickness. His fingers sink into the velvety flesh of her buttocks, leaving red imprints and livid bruises in their wake.
"I will give you every gypsy in Paris, if you ask it of me."
Close now, so close. Frollo is roaring, hips juddering, breath hissing.
Seal the deal. Go in for the kill. Now!
"They will scream and writhe upon their pyres...and I will scream and writhe in your bed, Claude."
Frollo almost shrieks as he spills into her, pushing her back onto the cold stone, shuddering atop her, his entire body convulsing. She laughs and claims his mouth with her own.
"Why?"
This question comes much later, a hoarse whisper in the stillness of the chamber, bemused and hesitant.
"You are a king," Esmeralda replies simply, "You do not wear a crown but you are a king all the same. The people respect you. They fear you. No one can touch you, not even the King of France himself. You are the King of Paris."
Frollo seems pleased at that. He buries his face in her ebony curls, inhaling her exotic perfume beneath the musk of sweat and sex.
"And you will be my queen. Yes?"
"Yes," Esmeralda draws away, eyes burning with pale wildfire, distant and dreamy, "I will be your queen."
The Queen of Paris.
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