Chapter 33: Stealing the Royal Virgin

"Aria," I said low, searching her face. "You’re joking, right? This body—so fucking sexy—no way you’ve never had a boyfriend. No way someone hasn’t already..."

She shook her head fast, more tears spilling, cheeks burning dark. "I’m not joking," she whispered, voice small and shaky. "I’ve never... let anyone. I’m supposed to stay pure."

I froze completely, cock throbbing against her entrance, shock hitting me like cold water. "Supposed to? What do you mean supposed to?"

She bit her lip hard, eyes dropping to where we almost joined, then back up to mine—vulnerable, ashamed, but honest.

"I’m... from a royal family," she said softly, like the words were heavy. "Back home. I’ve had a fiancé since I was little. Arranged. I was never allowed to... date or... anything. My first time is supposed to be with him. On our wedding night."

The words hung in the air, thick and unreal.

I stared at her, my hands still on her hips, cock pressed against her entrance, trying to process what she’d just said.

"Royal family?" I repeated, voice low, a disbelieving laugh slipping out. "Aria, come on. There’s no royalty anymore. Not in this age. What are you talking about?"

She bit her lip harder, cheeks burning even darker, but she didn’t look away this time. "It’s not... like kings and queens with crowns," she said softly, voice trembling. "It’s just... that’s what people call us. Old money. Business royalty."

"The families that run everything behind the scenes—conglomerates, politics, all of it. We still do things the old way. Arranged marriages. Keeping the bloodline ’pure.’ Political alliances."

I blinked, shock shifting into something else—understanding, maybe mixed with a surge of possessiveness. "So you’re saying..."

"I was promised to the heir of a bigger conglomerate when I was a kid," she whispered. "It’s been decided forever. The wedding’s next year. That’s why I was home-schooled my whole life. Why I was never allowed to date, or go out, or... anything. To stay pure for him."

She shifted slightly on my lap, wincing a little at the movement, then reached down toward the floor where her jeans lay in a heap.

Her breasts swayed as she stretched, still flushed and heavy, nipples hard in the cool air. She fished her phone out of the pocket, fingers shaky, and unlocked it with a quick swipe.

"Here," she said quietly, turning the screen toward me. "I’ll show you."

It was a photo—formal, taken at some fancy event. Aria, younger, maybe sixteen or seventeen, in an elegant dress, standing beside a guy in glasses.

He was decent-looking—tall, clean-cut, serious expression, nothing special but clearly loaded. Behind them were older people in suits and gowns, all smiling stiffly for the camera.

The background screamed money—chandeliers, marble floors, the kind of wealth that didn’t need to show off.

"That’s him," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "My fiancé. We’ve been engaged since we were kids. The families decided. I’ve met him maybe ten times. He’s... fine. Polite."

She set the phone down on the sofa beside us, screen still glowing, then looked back at me—eyes wide, vulnerable, tears still clinging to her lashes.

"Coming to college here was the one thing I fought for," she continued, voice cracking just a little. "My decision. My rebellion. I thought... maybe I could be normal for once."

I exhaled slow, trying to wrap my head around it. All the little signs clicked into place—her careful touches, the wonder in her eyes when she explored me, the way her body reacted like everything was brand new.

This perfect girl—curves that could stop traffic, that ass, those tits, that face—no one had ever had her.

"Fuck," I muttered, voice low and reverent, one hand sliding up to cup her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek. "You’re telling me no one’s ever been inside you?"

She shook her head again, eyes locked on mine, vulnerable and trusting. "No one."

Something dark and possessive snapped inside me.

Hearing it—knowing she was promised to some cold, arranged fiancé, some rich douchebag who’d never earned this, never made her shake like I did—lit a fire in my gut.

My cock throbbed harder against her entrance, swelling thicker, hotter, like her confession alone was pouring gasoline on me. She felt it—her eyes widened, a soft gasp escaping as I pressed firmer against her slick heat.

I didn’t ask again. I didn’t need to.

I crashed my mouth into hers—deep, hungry, claiming. My tongue pushed past her lips, tasting her, owning the soft little moan she gave me.

One hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back so I could take more, while the other gripped her hip hard enough to bruise, holding her exactly where I wanted.

She melted into it, kissing me back desperate, nails scraping my shoulders, body arching so her heavy tits pressed flush against my chest.

I broke the kiss just enough to growl against her lips, voice rough and low.

"He doesn’t get this," I said, rocking my hips so the head of my cock dragged slow through her folds, teasing her entrance again.

"That fiancé of yours? He’ll never have you like this. Never make you this wet. Never be the first one to stretch you, to fill you, to breed you."

She whimpered, thighs clenching around me, fresh tears spilling—but her hips rolled forward, chasing me, begging without words.

"I’m taking it," I rasped, nipping her bottom lip, then soothing it with my tongue. "I’m stealing you from him. Right now. This pussy? Mine. Your first time? Mine. The first load you ever take deep inside? All fucking mine."

"Aaahh—Alex..." she sobbed, nodding frantically, body trembling harder. "Yes... please... take it..."

My cock pulsed at her words, harder than I thought possible, pre-cum mixing with her wetness, making us both slicker.

The thought of breeding her—filling this untouched, royal pussy until she was dripping with me, marked in a way no arranged marriage could ever erase—made me feral.

I kissed her again, slower this time, but deeper—tongue stroking hers like a promise of what was coming. My hand slid from her hair down her spine, pressing her closer, while the other guided my cock back to her entrance.

She was trembling on my lap, thighs spread wide over mine, her slick heat hovering just above me. I could feel how ready she was—dripping, swollen, clenching on nothing—but the tightness was still there, that virgin resistance waiting to give.

"Easy, baby," I murmured against her lips, one hand splayed across her lower back, the other gripping the base of my cock to line us up perfectly. "Just breathe. I’ve got you."

I rocked her hips gently with my palm on her ass, letting the thick head nudge her entrance again and again—slow, teasing circles that spread her wetness around us both. Every little press made her gasp, her nails digging deeper into my shoulders.

"Aahh... Alex..." she whimpered, forehead falling against mine, tears still slipping down her flushed cheeks. "It feels... so big..."

"You’re doing perfect," I rasped, voice rough with restraint. I tilted my hips up just a fraction, letting the tip breach her—barely inside, just the head stretching that impossibly tight ring for the first time.

She tensed immediately, a sharp little cry escaping, body freezing.

"Shh, relax for me," I whispered, kissing her slow, soft, my tongue stroking hers until I felt her melt again. My hand on her back rubbed soothing circles while the other kept us steady. "Push down a little when you’re ready. Let me in."

She nodded against me, breath hitching, and bore down slow—her virgin pussy stretching around the head, so snug it almost hurt, hot velvet clamping down like it never wanted to let go.

"Fuuuck," I groaned low, head falling back for a second as I fought not to thrust. "So tight... you’re taking me so good, Aria."