Transmigrated Into A Women Dominated World

"The good part? Of what?" He asked as he stepped inside, and his eyes were drawn to the massive holographic screen that dominated the far wall. It was displaying a scene of courtly intrigue from the popular drama, 'Royal Reckoning.'

"The series. It's getting better and better with every new episode." Marceline commented.

Zaeryn nodded, though he had no interest in the show. While it was the talk of the town, he had never been one to follow the crowd.

His eyes were focused on the room, which itself was a sanctuary of soft light and plush textures, dominated by a large, opulent bed piled high with silk pillows.

Marceline closed the door with a soft click and glided over to the bed, patting the space beside her. "Come sit with me. The chancellor is about to be exposed, and I adore a good scandal." She said,

Zaeryn walked over and sat on the edge of the bed with her, before leaning back against the headboard, letting out a sigh as he relaxed into the pillows.

"Hey, what are you doing?" She asked. "Aren't you interested in seeing what happens?" She frowned.

"Not really." Zaeryn replied, sitting back up.

Marceline's frown melted into a playful pout.

"Oh? And I thought you came to keep me company. Are you really going to abandon me right before the big reveal?"

Zaeryn's lips quirked into a half-smile. "I'm more interested in the company than the chancellor's scandal," he said, his tone low and deliberately provocative.

Her laugh was a soft, throaty sound. "Flatterer," she purred, shifting closer on the bed, the crimson silk of her robe rustling against the sheets. "You don't have to be interested in the show. You can just be interested in me watching the show."

Before he could protest, she tugged him gently, pulling him back down against the pillows. With a fluid, confident motion, she repositioned herself, leaning her back against his chest and settling comfortably into his embrace. The soft, full weight of her F cup breasts pressed against his chest, and her hair tickled his chin as she turned her attention back to the holographic screen.

Zaeryn let out a long, put-upon sigh, though his arm instinctively wrapped around her waist, pulling her even closer. "This is blatant manipulation, you know that, right?"

"Of course it is," she whispered, patting his chest contentedly. "Now hush. The scandal is about to unfold."

He chuckled, his voice a low rumble against her back. "Fine," he murmured into her hair. "But if this chancellor bores me, you owe me a better distraction."

Marceline turned her head, her dark hair spilling over his shoulder. A slow, wicked smile touched her lips, her eyes glittering in the dim light of the holo-screen. "A better distraction?" she murmured, her voice dropping to a husky purr. "Oh, my sweet boy. I am the better distraction."

She leaned in and captured his mouth. The kiss was slow and deliberate, a deep, claiming press of her lips against his that was full of unspoken promises. It wasn't rushed or frantic; it was the confident exploration of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted.

When she finally pulled back, Zaeryn's breath was unsteady. Her directness, her sheer confidence, was an intoxicating thrill. His hand, which had been resting casually at her waist, slid lower, tracing the elegant curve of her hip through the crimson silk.

His fingers found the full, soft swell of her ass, and he cupped her firmly. With his other hand, he pulled her even tighter against the hard proof of his arousal.

A triumphant, wicked grin spread across Marceline's face, as she could evidently feel the effect of her laying on him. She shifted against his hand, a silent, encouraging invitation."Stop being a distraction," she said, her voice a teasing whisper. "If I miss this, I will blame you." She turned just enough to nip his nose playfully.

Zaeryn chuckled, a low rumble in his chest, but obliged. He let his hand rest possessively where it was, his thumb tracing lazy circles over the crimson silk as they turned their attention to the glowing holo-screen.

They continued watching, settling in a comfortable, charged silence. The political drama of Royal Reckoning unfolded before them, but the real story was the intimate tableau on the bed. The warmth of her body seeped into him, and the heady, floral scent of her perfume was far more captivating than any on-screen scandal.

Her ample breasts, heavy and full, were pressed firmly against his chest. Despite her impressive control, the evidence of her arousal was unmistakable, her nipples hardening into tight, sensitive peaks as they brushed against him.

He could feel the soft rhythm of her breathing against his chest, a steady, calming counterpoint to the frantic beat of his own heart.

Finally, the episode's dramatic conclusion faded to black, casting the room into a deeper, more intimate quiet. The only light now came from the ambient glow of the city outside the window.

Marceline let out a soft, satisfied sigh. She picked up the remote, not to turn the screen off, but to set it decisively on the bedside table.

The gesture was final, a clear end to one activity and the beginning of another.

She shifted her hips, a slow, deliberate grind against the hardness she could feel pressing insistently into her. That caused Zaeryn's erection to throb almost painfully, straining against the confines of his clothes, pulsing with the urgent desire to bury himself deep within her warmth.

"Now," she purred, pressing herself even more against his throbbing erection, turning to look down at him, her eyes glittering in the darkness. "It's time to take care of the real scandal in this room." Her gaze dropped pointedly to his midsection where his pants were strained, "And I believe I'm the one who caused it."

"Obviously." Zaeryn responded,

Marceline's lips curved into a sly, sensual smile at Zaeryn's response. "Well then," she purred, her voice a low, throaty whisper, "I suppose I should take responsibility for my actions."

With a deliberate slowness, she slid off him, settling on her knees between his thighs. Her hands found the waistband of his pants, her fingers hooking into the fabric. She paused there, looking up at him through thick, dark lashes. Her eyes, a deep, rich brown, were full of wicked promise. "I'm going to take care of you," she murmured, slowly tugging his pants down over his hips.

Zaeryn lifted his hips helpfully, allowing her to slide his pants down his thighs, freeing his straining erection. It bobbed heavily, the hard length standing in erotic contrast against the soft planes of his lower abdomen.