The King entered the room after a short while.
As soon as he stepped inside, Joline held her breath in anticipation, but her heart dropped when he spoke in a flat, command-like tone: “Strip, bend over the bed, lift your hips for me, and spread your legs.” She stared at him, noticing that his trousers were already straining against a prominent erection.
While she felt relief knowing the physician had found nothing to incriminate her, the clinical, unfeeling manner of his command left her flushed with embarrassment.
What kind of encounter was this?
Was there to be no foreplay at all?
She looked up at him, her voice laced with subtle hesitation.
“Can you at least prepare me, my King?” Dronti unbuckled his leather belt, lowering his trousers and briefs in one fluid motion.
He exposed his impressive size, making Joline swallow hard.
He was exceptionally gifted—exactly to her taste.
“What is there to prepare?” Dronti countered, his expression distant as he waited for her to undress.
“I assumed you were always ready.
If you don’t want this, leave.” Watching the sharp contours of the half-naked sovereign standing before her, Joline felt a surge of heat rush through her skin.
Realizing she wouldn’t need any preparation after all, a natural slickness already pooled between her thighs.
Without further protest, she shed her dress and complied with his orders, pressing her face against the soft mattress of the king-sized bed while elevating her hips.
Dronti stepped behind her, gripping her waist firmly before driving into her with a single, swift thrust that filled her completely.
She flinched at the initial sharp pressure, though the discomfort quickly gave way to pleasure as he established a relentless, rhythmic pace.
Driven by the overwhelming surge of the spiked drink, Dronti moved with unyielding intensity, carefully keeping his eyes averted from her face.
It was not out of sheer hatred that he held back, but out of pure distaste for her deceitful nature.
Though Joline cultivated an aura of sweet innocence, Dronti had crossed paths with her in high-end clubs and VIP lounges throughout the city and was well aware of her hidden habits—secrets she had no idea he knew.
He let out a low growl against the nape of her neck, his movements unyielding.
“You had better conceive from this.
There will not be a second time.” He thrust deeper, shattering her breath into a ragged gasp.
“Aah!
Yes…
my King!” He drove into her with brutal, dominant force, the heavy impact of his body against her skin echoing softly in the room.
Though she resented being treated so coldly—as if she were a mere inconvenience—she found herself captivatingly swept up in his power.
She had long envisioned a man of his status taking her like this, and she refused to let his cold demeanor ruin the moment.
I will bear his child, she resolved internally, and then I will make him fall in love with me.
All I need to do is play the obedient partner until he grants me the crown.
She allowed him to shift her position and use her body as he saw fit, completely surrendering to the sovereign she desired.
While he treated the act as a harsh duty, she absorbed it as pure indulgence.
His heavy, punishing thrusts made her skin burn with satisfaction, and she assured herself that this cold treatment was merely temporary—the next time he took her, it would be with genuine affection.
Joline had long heard rumors of his inability to achieve climax, often wondering how a man could maintain such stamina without reaching an ending.
To her, it seemed impossible; he simply hadn’t encountered a woman of her caliber yet.
She felt confident that tonight would be the night she broke his dry spell, convinced she could melt the icy fortress he kept around his heart.
Dronti continued his mechanical, forceful movements from behind, ensuring her face remained completely out of his line of sight.
Lost in the dizzying fog of sensations, Joline suddenly felt a deep, warm rush coat her interior walls as Dronti abruptly withdrew.
He let her body sink back onto the mattress as he stepped away from the bed.
Without a single glance back, he walked straight into the adjoined bathroom.
The sound of the glass shower door shutting and water running echoed through the room as he washed himself thoroughly.
Moments later, he reemerged wearing simple, grey sweatpants and a tight black tank top that hugged his broad chest.
Pausing near the doorway before turning the handle, he stated coldly, “Do not expect anything further from me.
You will be provided for once your pregnancy is confirmed, but your sole purpose here is to deliver an heir.
Is that clear?” Swallowing down her lingering embarrassment, Joline met his gaze with a submissive tilt of her head.
“I understand, my King.” Dronti turned and exited the suite without waiting for her response, the door clicking shut behind him.
The moment the lock engaged, the submissive look vanished from Joline’s face.
A bitter, resolute smile played on her lips.
“You have no idea what you just let into your life, Leusi,” she murmured into the empty room.
“I am a sticky note, and I will not detach.” Dronti navigated the quiet corridor of the villa and arrived at Breena’s quarters, knocking once before pushing the door open.
Surprised by his sudden appearance, Breena instinctively made a move to slam the door shut, but Dronti caught the wooden frame with the toe of his sneaker and slipped inside.
She had already changed out of her drenched garments and was now dressed in a simple floral cotton sundress that fell softly around her frame.
A sudden wave of heat flushed Breena’s cheeks.
Embarrassed to even meet his gaze, memories of how close she had come to surrendering herself to him in the dark filled her mind.
She felt certain he now viewed her as nothing more than a desperate woman seeking a path to his bed.
Noticing how intently she avoided his eyes, Dronti let a faint, mocking smile touch his lips.
“What?
Can the bold Great Healer actually turn quiet and shy?
That moment earlier was…” “Do not speak of it!” Breena interrupted, her voice rising in panic as she nearly reached out to cover his mouth.
Dronti’s reflexes were faster; his hand snapped out, catching her wrist in a firm grip.
“I was not in my right mind, and you know it,” she bit out defensively.
Dronti pulled her a step closer, bending slightly to lock his pale grey eyes directly onto her emerald ones.
“You are fortunate my mother interrupted us,” he rasped softly, his gaze holding hers captive.
“Otherwise, you wouldn’t have the energy to stand here and raise your voice at me right now.” A burning flush spread across her neck and cheeks, but she refused to let him see her falter.
Straightening her spine, she pulled against his grip.
“Let go of me, my King.
You know as well as I do that I would never allow such a thing under normal circumstances.” Dronti’s pale eyes slowly dragged down her frame before returning to her face, making her breath catch in her throat.
“I could make you beg for me even in your right mind, little healer,” he murmured, his tone smooth and dangerous.
“But that is not why I am here.
We have a serious matter to address.” He released her wrist, stepping back slightly.
Breena cleared her throat, attempting to regain her professional composure, though her heart still hammered against her ribs.
“What is it, my King?” Dronti’s expression hardened, returning to its usual icy mask.
” I am still unable to ejaculate.”