Chapter Ten — The Commander’s Hand

The morning sun had barely crested the eastern wall when Aylin pressed Zephyr harder than usual.

“Again,” she ordered, circling him with her practice staff. Sweat already glistened on her sun-browned skin, her linen tunic clinging to the curves of her breasts and the flat plane of her stomach.

Zephyr adjusted his grip, breathing heavily. His muscles burned from the relentless drills, but he was improving. He could feel it. When Aylin lunged, he managed to deflect the first strike and counter with a thrust that forced her to step back.

A small smile touched her lips. “Better. You’re finally learning how to move instead of just thinking.”

She stepped in close to correct his stance, her body brushing against his side. Her hand lingered on his hip a second longer than necessary. Their eyes met.

Then the sound of heavy footsteps cut through the training yard.

Ninsara appeared like a storm rolling over the canals. Her armor caught the morning light, and her expression was unreadable. Aylin immediately straightened, lowering her staff.

“Commander,” Aylin said respectfully.

Ninsara’s sharp gaze flicked between them. “Leave us. I will oversee his training today.”

Aylin hesitated for half a heartbeat, her eyes darting toward Zephyr before she bowed. “As you command.” She turned and left without another word.

Ninsara waited until Aylin was out of earshot before she spoke.

She attacked without warning.

Their sparring was brutal. Ninsara gave him no mercy. She threw him into the dirt twice in quick succession, her powerful thighs pinning him momentarily each time before she pulled back. Every correction came with physical force—her hands gripping his arms, her body slamming into his to demonstrate proper weight distribution.

Zephyr’s heart hammered. The harder she pushed him, the more his body reacted. His cock had grown half-hard under his loincloth, and he knew she could see the growing bulge.

During one particularly fierce exchange, Ninsara swept his legs and dropped on top of him, straddling his waist.

“You’re distracted again,” she growled.

Zephyr looked up at her, chest heaving. “Hard not to be… when you’re on top of me.”

Ninsara’s grip on Zephyr’s tunic remained iron-tight as she led him through the corridors of the upper officer quarters.

She shoved aside the heavy woven curtain to her chambers and pulled him inside. The room was larger than his own—stone walls adorned with captured banners. Weapons hung neatly on one wall, a wide sleeping platform covered in layered wool and linen. Ninsara sealed the entrance with a single decisive motion.

Zephyr let his gaze move slowly around the space. “So this is where authority recovers,” he said. “Mine felt more like a holding cell with ambition.”

No reply—her focus moved elsewhere.

“Strip,” she ordered, voice low and rough. “Now.”

Zephyr met her eyes for a heartbeat, then obeyed. He pulled the torn tunic over his head. His charcoal trousers followed, until he stood bare before her, cock heavy and fully hard under her scrutiny.

“Good,” she murmured. “Now sit on the edge of the platform.”

He moved to the bed and sat. Ninsara remained standing, towering over him. She slowly unwrapped her armor from her shoulders and let it fall, leaving her in only the thin linen undertunic that clung to her powerful frame.

“Touch yourself,” she commanded. “Slowly. Base to tip. Show me how you tried to handle this fire when you were alone.”

Heat flooded his face, his hand moved wrapping around his cock. A low groan escaped him as he stroked upward. His eyes never left hers.

“No. Not like that,” she said. “Slower. Control it. The way you failed to control it in the training yard.”

Her voice was calm, authoritative, every inch the commander giving orders on the battlefield. She stepped closer, close enough that he could smell her arousal, but still out of reach.

Ninsara’s eyes darkened with satisfaction.

“Look at you,” she murmured. “So disciplined in some ways… so helpless in this. Keep going. Do not stop until I tell you.”

“No,” he said, voice hoarse but firm.

Ninsara’s eyebrows rose slightly, a dangerous glint flashing in her gaze.

“No,” Zephyr repeated, calm and steady. “Not like that.”

Before she could respond — before the warrior in her could pin him down and remind him who held command — Zephyr moved.

He pulled her forward by the hips until she stood straddling his face. His hands disappeared beneath the hem of her long linen undertunic. Slowly, deliberately, he gathered the soft fabric and lifted it higher, bunching it around her waist. The movement revealed her strong, sun-browned thighs and the dark, glistening heat between them.

Zephyr did not hesitate. He gripped her bare hips firmly and pulled her down onto his mouth.

Ninsara’s thighs clamped around his head like iron. One hand flew to his mullet, fingers twisting hard in his hair. “This is not— ah —how this is done,” she growled, voice strained. Her hips jerked, whether trying to pull away or press closer, even she seemed unsure.

Zephyr didn’t stop. He alternated between broad, flat licks and tight circles, reading every twitch, every shudder.

Ninsara had known pleasure before—quick, rough releases after battle with men who understood only strength and speed. Never this. Never a man willingly placing his mouth on her most intimate place, focused entirely on unraveling her .

Her breath grew ragged. Her free hand fisted the wool beneath them. “You… dare…” The words dissolved into a low, broken sound as Zephyr sucked her clit into his mouth and hummed. Her muscular back arched, breasts straining against her linen tunic, nipples hard and visible.

She tried to maintain control. She growled orders between gasps—“ There —harder”—but her voice cracked. Her thighs began to tremble. The legendary discipline of Commander Ninsara frayed at the edges as wave after wave of unfamiliar pleasure crashed through her.

A deep, guttural moan tore from her throat—raw, shocked, almost angry in its intensity. Her hips bucked against his face as the orgasm ripped through her. Her entire body locked tight, powerful muscles seizing, thighs clamping so hard around his head he saw sparks.

For several long heartbeats afterward, she remained frozen, breathing like she had just finished a brutal sprint across the battlefield.

Then she turned her head and looked at him—really looked at him. There was fire in her eyes, but also something new. Something unsettled.

“You make me feel… strange things, Zephyr Kane,” she admitted quietly.

Zephyr kissed the inside of her thigh, slow and deliberate, before glancing up at her with that calm glint in his eyes.

“You command armies, Commander,” he murmured, voice rough with lust. “But this is just the first of many ways I can make a warrior tremble.”

Zephyr dressed slowly, every movement torture. As he reached the curtain, Ninsara spoke one last time.

“Do not think this means I am soft. I am not.”

He smiled faintly. “I would never make that mistake.”

Zephyr stepped out of Ninsara’s quarters quietly, still catching his breath. His skin was flushed, hair tousled, and the scent clung to him unmistakably.

Aylin’s face burned. Her breathing was shallow, her thighs clenched tight.

He had only taken a few steps when he sensed her. When their eyes met, a visible flush colored her cheeks.

“You were listening,” Zephyr said softly.

Aylin didn’t deny it. “I didn’t mean to,” she admitted, voice low. “I came to deliver a report… and then I heard.”

She swallowed, shifting her weight.

“I heard her voice… commanding you. And the sounds she made.” Her cheeks darkened further. “I should have left. But I stayed.”

Zephyr took one slow step closer. Aylin didn’t back away.

“That bothers you?” he asked gently.

Aylin let out a small breath, almost a nervous laugh. She looked down for a moment before meeting his eyes again.

“A little… unsettled,” she admitted.” she confessed.

She stepped a little closer, eyes tracing over his body once more.

“I’ve seen the way she looks at you. The way you look at her,” she murmured. “But I also remember how you looked at me by the canal… and when I was washing after training.”

A small, hesitant smile touched her lips, even as her fingers nervously gripped the edge of her belt.

“Maybe one day… she won’t mind sharing what she claims.” The suggestion was subtle, almost teasing, but clear enough.

Zephyr’s pulse jumped at her words. The image of both women flashed through his mind.

Aylin noticed the reaction. She tilted her head slightly, voice dropping even lower.

“Does that thought surprise you?”

He let out a quiet breath, “Careful what you imagine,” he said quietly. “Some thoughts don’t stay thoughts.”

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