The Manor ballroom felt too large for one person, but it was enough for two. Draconia stood in the center of the polished floor, her feet positioned exactly where the instructors had taught her to stand during her first formal lesson. The room was a cavern of white marble and silver, a place where she had spent hours practicing the tilt of her chin and the grace of her wrist. Usually, the ballroom was filled with the sounds of a hundred guests, but at two in the morning, there was only the sound of her own breathing. Harry moved toward her, his footsteps silent on the stone. He was not the partner her father would have chosen for a formal gala, and he certainly was not the man who would have led her through a traditional waltz.
"You came," Draconia said, watching him approach through the stillness.
"I said I would," Harry replied, stopping a few inches from her.
"It is a strange time to be awake," she remarked, though her heart was beating too fast for a calm observation.
"It is the only time it feels quiet enough," he said, reaching out to take her hand.
His skin was warm against her palm, a sharp contrast to the cool air of the hall. They had danced in more crowded places, but there was a different sort of weight to this room when it was empty. The marble seemed to hold the history of every posture she had been forced to adopt, every correction her mother had made to her spine. She felt the familiar urge to straighten her shoulders, to ensure her silks fell perfectly, but Harry did not look at her as if she were a statue. He looked at her as if she were a person, which was a far more dangerous thing.
"Do you remember the way they made us move?" she asked, her voice dropping.
"I remember the way you looked when you were trying to be perfect," he said.
"I was always trying to be perfect," she whispered.
He pulled her closer, breaking the distance of the formal dance. There was no music, only the rhythm of their movement as he led her toward the shadowed alcove near the tapestries. He did not wait for her to lead. He simply took her, his hands sliding down to the small of her back, pulling her hips against his. The friction of his trousers against her thighs made her breath hitch.
He pressed her against the cool stone wall, his mouth finding hers in a hungry, unrefined way. Draconia let out a low moan, her fingers tangling in his hair as he lifted her legs. He hitched her thighs around his waist, and she felt the hard length of his cock pressing against her soaking knickers. He worked his way down, his lips leaving her mouth to trail hot, wet paths along her jaw and neck. He pulled the silk of her bodice down, exposing her breasts to the cool air of the ballroom.
"Harry," she gasped, her head hitting the stone behind her.
"I have you," he murmured against her skin.
He fumbled with the fastenings of her clothes, his movements frantic yet purposeful. He pushed her skirt up past her hips, baring her pale thighs and the silver silk of her knickers. He knelt before her, his hands gripping her waist as he peeled the fabric away. He found the wetness between her legs, his fingers sliding into her pussy to find the swollen nub of her clitoris. He rubbed her cunt with his thumb, circling the sensitive flesh until she was arching her back, her breath coming in ragged, short bursts.
"I want you," he said, his voice a low growه. "I want to fuck you right here."
He stood and unfastened his trousers, freeing his thick, pulsing cock. Draconia watched him, her eyes wide and dark, mesmerously focused on the way his cock twitched in the dim light. He guided the head of his cock to her opening, rubbing the wetness of her pussy against the length of him. He pushed inside her in one long, heavy thrust, burying himself deep within her. Draconia cried out, the sound echoing off the high, vaulted ceiling. He was large and blunt, filling her so completely that she felt her insides stretching to accommodate him.
"Fuck," he hissed, his muscles tensing as he began to move.
He drove into her with heavy, rhythmic strokes, his cock sliding in and out of her wet cunt with a visceral, slapping sound. Draconia wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, wanting the friction to be even more intense. He fucked her hard, his pelvis hitting hers with every lunge. He reached up to cup her breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples as he hammered into her. The sensation was overwhelming, a blunt, beautiful ache that made her want to scream.
"Harder," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "More."
He obeyed, his thrusts becoming faster and shallower as he sought the most sensitive parts of her. He pulled her hips toward him, driving his cock deep into her pussy until she felt she might break. He was a force of nature, a heavy, driving weight that bypassed all her practiced grace. She felt the build of a climax, a tension in her gut that tightened with every stroke of his cock. He gripped her ass, his fingers digging into her flesh, as he drove himself into her one last time.
The orgasm hit her like a physical blow. Her vaginal walls clamped down on his cock, pulsing in tight, rhythmic waves. She felt her pussy clenching around him, the heat of her climax making her vision blur. Harry groaned, his eyes rolling back as he felt the tightness of her. He gave several more heavy, deep thrusts, his entire body shuddering as he came. She felt the hot, thick spurt of his cum filling her, the liquid warmth spreading inside her as he emptied himself into her. He stayed buried inside her, his chest heaving against hers, as the silence of the ballroom returned to claim them.
They stayed there for a long time, tangled together against the stone. The heat of their bodies was the only warmth in the vast, cold room. Draconia felt the cooling sensation of his cum on her skin, a messy, honest reality that stood in stark contrast to the perfection she was supposed to maintain. She leaned her head against his shoulder, her hair disheveled and her skin flushed.
"That was..." she started, but the words caught in her throat.
"Beautiful?" he asked, a small, knowing smile touching his lips.
"It was real," she said, a sudden, sharp pang of regret hitting her. "But my father will hear about this!"