Mistress Needs a Distraction

The manor smelled faintly of lavender and nightshade—Diana’s signature combination—and the faint trace of cigarette smoke lingered in the air like an invisible perfume. I had just finished setting my tea down when the front door clicked open, followed by the distinct tap of her high heels echoing across the marble floors.

Diana appeared in the doorway, blazer slightly unbuttoned, black dress shirt open just enough to hint at her collarbone, leather skirt hugging her hips, and boots clicking with every step. Her dark red lipstick and heavy eyeliner made her look even more dangerously gorgeous than usual. She was tense, her brows knitting faintly as if school had tried—and failed—to drain every ounce of her composure.

I stayed in the corner of the library, pajamas loose and comfort-level maxed, mask still on. My gloves twitched with anticipation, though I wouldn’t admit it aloud.

“Prince,” she said, voice low and teasing, “you’re going to be a good distraction for me.” And before I could respond, she stepped forward, grabbed the end of my scarf, and tugged me toward her.

The scarf slipped through my gloves, and instinctively, I froze. Her eyes glinted with mischief as her fingers gently nudged my surgical mask down just enough to expose my lips. “That’s better,” she murmured, voice husky, teasing. “I need to forget about stupid teachers and idiotic students for a while.”

Before I could say anything, she straddled me, her leather skirt brushing against my legs as she lowered herself onto my lap. My hands stayed in place, hesitant but steady, as her gaze held mine—intense, commanding, and completely affectionate all at once.

“You,” she whispered, leaning closer, “are a very convenient distraction.” Her lips brushed mine, teasing at first, soft and insistent, drawing me in. I inhaled sharply behind the mask as she tilted my chin up, and I could feel the warmth radiating off her, the confidence, the control, the absolute certainty that she had me exactly where she wanted.

I let my gloves rest on her arms, careful, deliberate, while she deepened the kiss. Teeth grazed lips lightly, her hands tracing the contours of my shoulders, pulling me closer. I tasted faint traces of her perfume and smoke, intoxicating and strangely grounding.

She pulled back just slightly, dark eyes glinting with playful sarcasm. “You know, prince… you’re actually a good distraction from my makeup routine. And thanks for the energy boost as well.” Her tone was teasing, almost casual—but her grip on my scarf and the intensity of her stare said otherwise.

I swallowed, my voice muffled behind my mask. “You… make this hard to focus on anything else.”

Her laugh was low and sultry, brushing against my lips again as she leaned down, kissing me with renewed purpose. Every movement was deliberate—her weight on me, her hands steady, her presence overwhelming yet comforting. The world outside, the chaos of school, the stupidity of teachers and students—it all vanished in the heat of her kiss.

She shifted slightly, pressing closer, her hands gripping my shoulders firmly but gently. I couldn’t stop the small shiver that ran down my spine as her lips moved over mine, teasing, commanding, yet impossibly tender. Her teasing smirk returned mid-kiss, just long enough to murmur against my mouth: “Yes… this is why I keep you around, prince.”

I exhaled, pulling her just a fraction closer, careful not to be too aggressive, letting her dominance guide us both. She responded by pressing even closer, brushing her lips against mine in soft, relentless rhythm, grounding herself against me, and in a way, grounding me against her too.

The twins’ sketches sat forgotten at the table. Outside, the manor was silent. Inside, all that existed was the press of leather against pajamas, the scent of lavender and nightshade, the brush of fingers over gloves and scarf, and the perfect intensity of Diana claiming her quiet victory over the stress of her day.

Her lips left mine briefly, dark red lipstick brushing my mask, and she whispered, teasing but husky, “Focus on me, prince. I insist.”

I nodded, gloves resting on her arms, mask slightly loosened, entirely absorbed. And as she leaned back down, lips connecting to mine again, I realized something simple and absolute: this was our perfect, chaotic, quiet, intimate paradise—and she was always, always the mistress in charge.