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π Princess Jasmine π Aladdin π 140+ Images in Download-Link
🕑 Added 2025-05-28 17:00:07 +0000 UTCThe palace was silent, the moon a silver coin resting above the minarets.
My chambers glowed with soft lantern light β low, golden, warm like memory. I stood by the open balcony, barefoot on cool marble, silk robe brushing against my ankles. The night air smelled of jasmine and spices, the same scent he always whispered lingered on my skin.
And then I felt him.
His arms slid around me from behind β careful, practiced, like someone whoβd done it in a thousand dreams. I didnβt flinch. I leaned back, letting his hands settle low on my waist, his breath fall warm at my neck.
βYouβre late,β I whispered, smiling without turning.
βI got caught,β he murmured. βThe rug was... stubborn.β
I laughed β quiet, breathy β and finally turned to face him.
There he stood: tousled, grinning, wild-eyed, like the wind itself had shaped him. Not born of courts or politics or palace life. Just desert and fire and charm that made my knees weaken no matter how long I wore this crown.
βTake it off,β he said gently, fingers brushing the golden chain at my neckline.
I let the robe slip.
Beneath it, I wore sheer violet silk, barely-there straps tied at my shoulders. The fabric clung to every curve β a gown made not for royal appearances, but for this: the hush between lovers. The space where power melted into touch.
He stepped closer. Pressed his lips to my collarbone. Then lower.
My hands moved to his chest β pulling at the linen shirt he wore too loose, always ready to run. But tonight, he was mine. I dragged him toward the bed, every step pulling the thread tighter between want and surrender.
He kissed me slowly, like he was learning me again. And when I fell back onto the bed, hair spilling over velvet pillows, he followed β his hands everywhere. Warm. Rough. Devoted.
I wrapped my legs around him and sighed into his mouth.
βI shouldnβt want this,β I whispered.
βI know,β he said, smiling against my skin. βBut you do.β
And I did.
Every part of me opened to him β from my lips to my soul. He touched me like someone who never thought heβd be allowed to. He moved inside me like the rhythm of sandstorms, patient but unstoppable. We didnβt rush. We burned.
When I arched beneath him, crying out his name into silk and shadows, the wind outside shifted β curling through the balcony as if the desert itself had exhaled with me.
He held me after.
One arm beneath my head. The other across my waist. My body still humming.
βYou should go,β I whispered. βBefore the guardsββ
He kissed my forehead.
βLet them find me,β he murmured. βIβd steal you again anyway.β
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ghostbeetle
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