He leans over you, one leg bent and braced beside your hip, the other one boxing you in.

You lay under him, your back pressed flat against the billiard table, his figure looming over you, one arm aimed over you.

He smirked, lining up his shot over your chest, the pool cue balanced between his fingers.

“Should I aim for the corner pocket, My lady,” He drawled. “or should I just drop the ball into your lap and call it a day?”

He was supposed to serve you as well. The Queen had ordered him to serve her dear niece as you’d be staying in the Royal Palace.