Yes

Riva kept her expression serene, hands folded before her as protocol demanded. But beneath the layers of silk, she moved with deliberate subtlety. She shifted her stance, pressing her thigh lightly against his, letting the contact linger. Her fingers, hidden by the folds of her sleeve, brushed the back of his hand. Then she let her hand drift lower, tracing the line of his hip before cupping the front of his breeches with a slow, firm squeeze.

She felt his cock twitch and begin to harden under her palm. Riva gave it another deliberate stroke through the fabric, her thumb circling the growing head, feeling it thicken and lengthen against her touch. She kept her eyes forward, face composed, as if she were merely listening to the king’s words. Her fingers worked with practiced discretion, rubbing along the shaft, pressing and stroking in a steady rhythm that matched the slow pace of the court proceedings.