Born for Silk (The Cradled Common)

Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Rome

“Where is my Silk Girl?” I roar, backing her Watcher into the brick wall of the corridor, seeing the girl tremble so hard her teeth clatter in her jaw.

“Iris?” she asks.

“Who the fuck is Iris? You fucking imbecile!” I punch my fists into the brick on either side of her head, the clay fracturing inward. “Aster!”

Her gaze flickers from side to side, frantic with confusion. How does she not know? How well has she been ‘Watching?’

“She fainted, Sire. Wh- When we told her about Lord Darwin and then?—"

“Where. The fuck. Is she?” My words hit her hard, making her flinch again.

I have searched The Circle, her room, the Silk Girl Dining Hall, and the courtyard. She is nowhere to be found. She’s fucking gone.

My skin crawls along my muscles like it’s desperate to unleash them, grant them freedom to reap hell.

“Master Cair—” she stammers and starts to hiccup her words, laced with fear and panic.

When I snap my head toward his chambers, Aster’s Watcher slides down the wall to the floor.

Steeled, my shoulders turn, and my deadly gaze pierces his closed door. I charge down the corridor toward it. Memories of my broken sister—of her bandaged abdomen, trembling thighs, slim, naked body, broken fucking gaze—carve sanity from my mind and plant rage into the bloody slit.

I hear my growl as I kick the door open, splintering it against the inside wall.

My chest heaves as I search the room, finding my sweet Aster sitting on the examination table naked and him— I see red. I don’t see anything else.

He holds his palms up like that will slow me as I lung at him, but before I have his head in my hands, two Guards grip my arms, holding me back.

I slide their feet along the floor as I take another step.

“Sire,” a Guard behind me calls. “Stop.”

Growling, I jolt my shoulders and throw the Guards from my arms. I prowl forward again and, again, two more men grab hold of me from behind.

More hands.

More men.

Four fucking fully-grown Xin De Guards claw at me as I growl and hiss and reach to get my bare hands around The Trade Master’s pretty fucking head.

“Easy, boy,” I hear Kong’s voice behind me. “Take a moment before you do something you’ll regret.”

“Sire,” Cairo says from the other side of the room, seemingly un-fucking-bothered.

I want him, want to feel his head slowly cave in, feel the moment it gives way, the bone compressing his brain, his eyeballs popping from their sockets.

“Tell the king you are okay, Aster,” Cairo orders.

“Sire.” She slides from the bed, dropping to the ground—so tiny— and completely fucking naked.

I growl louder. “Why the fuck are you naked!”

“I was examining her. I did nothing improper. I assure you.” He smiles. “I did not touch a single hair on her head.”

My lips sneer.

Done with this. I take the fuckers behind me by surprise when I spin around and grab hold of their heads, playing their skulls like cymbals and smashing them together. The other two back away with their hands up—they even close their eyes, because they know they aren’t allowed to look at the Silk Girls.

As I turn back to Cairo, hatred in my eyes, he softens his smooth smile and says, “If you kill me, the Shadows in The Estate will be activated, and they will kill your Collective.” I don’t give a fuck about anyone. I stalk toward him. “The first casualty will be your sister.”

I stop midstride.

“Boy,” Kong warns.

My blood is volcanic, and my fingers are curled and raised at his head, shaking with fury and ready to tear his fucking skull and spine from his body. My hands vibrate. Just inches away from him. Just right there. Fuck.

“Tell the king you are well, Aster,” Cairo repeats.

“I’m well.” I hear her soft voice, drawing my gaze to her as she pulls her dress over her head, the silky black material falling down her lithe body.

I still.

Stare at her.

What has she done to me?

It hits me like a bullet right in the chest. A bullet I’ll keep with the others. I don’t want her to be a piece of The Trade. I want her. I don’t want to share her. It’s not simply about preserving her—the manifestation of my last act of human kindness—I want her.

I’ve been bored, playing the same game of chess to bring The Trade and The Cradle a state of compliance. Each piece with its place, with its Purpose, including her, and I dug my fingers into the guts of what that meant.

I adhere to my vows, create an aura of fear around myself, but I do not want her to follow the rules or behave for them! Not for them. For me.

Maddening little girl.

Without a second thought, I stride to her as she backs away from me until she hits the brick wall.

I scoop her into my arms, and she bursts into tears, beating her little fists into my chest. She is trying to hurt me. “Little creature, calm down.”

“You didn’t come! You didn’t come!”

The damage is cemented with Cairo. It’s irreversible now. He knows. I know. She seems to be the only one with no concept of how much she fucking affects me.

As Cairo smirks, I stride from the room with her punching at me, but her spitting tears and angry brows are what bothers me, not her sweet little fists.

“You deceived me. You made me think that you were choosing me. And then you gave Iris Meaningful Purpose, not me! How could you? Not her!”

I can’t follow her chaotic trail of thoughts right now. I don’t have the right words, so I keep walking.

She punches me the entire way, down the corridor, past the Guard, into the Medi-deck, The Circle, and then into her room.

I kick her door shut.

I distantly notice her fists have flattened to slaps as she loses strength.

“Fuck. For whatever I have done to make you behave this way, I will make amends!” I finally say, my chest warm and tight and fucking aching all at once.

“No! I can’t.”

“You will!”

With her protected against my torso, I crawl along the bed, lowering her to the mattress.

Groaning at having her under me, even as she fights, I grab both her bony wrists and pin them above her head.

“I hate you,” she spits out.

Hovering over her, I use my other arm to keep my weight from crushing her. She bucks beneath me, such a little thing fighting off a beast. Her squirming makes my cock pulse, fill with blood, ache and demand.

“What do you want from me? I’ll give it to you.”

“You didn’t come for me. Now, it’s too late!”

“Like hell it is.” I growl, voice savage. “This feeling in my chest, this damn tight, warm agony. That is my response to you. It's been driving me mad. Agitating me. Controlling me. Making me do things that are not in my nature. Dangerous things. And I just can't fight it anymore. I understand it. You are the first thing I've ever really wanted. Now! What do you want?”

“I wanted to be your Silk Girl!” she screeches.

At her manner, heat builds in my temples. “I can fuck any girl, any time! I wanted to give you more than that, you silly little thing. You’re different. Better. I don’t want to share you with The Trade. I want you to be mine! Mine, dammit. Not The Trade’s!”

She shakes her head as she says, "That is my Meaningful Purpose. One day”—she sobs— “when you're an old man and I’m dead because I don't have the Xin De genes, you're going to look out over the children I've made for you, and their children, and their children, dozens of them that all originated from my body, and you’ll understand why being your Silk Girl means everything to me!”

Fuck. I don’t want to imagine a room filled with her babies but without her…

Then she licks her dry lips. Bad move. Her tongue, tiny and pink, wetting her perfect bow lips. A groan rumbles deep inside me as though vibrating in a cold, hard cave.

Jealous of her tongue.

I seal my mouth over hers.

I kiss her.

She melts into the mattress, letting go of the anger as I work her soft, wet lips with mine. She sighs, giving in to me, opening her mouth for me to explore.

She tastes good. So sweet. So vulnerable. My little aster flower, little creature. Mine.

Her hips roll upward, begging for pressure, for my body on hers, and my cock strains to her demand. The pain is blinding.

“Fuck, Aster. Stop,” I hiss, so close to losing complete control with her.

Needing to still her writhing body, I lower my torso to press on her, and she mindlessly grinds her pussy against my abdomen and fuck… I’m fucked.

So fucked.

As her inexperienced mouth grows in confidence, her tongue meets mine, her lips begin to move, and I can feel the raging beat of her heart against me.

And now I want that, too.

Her heart.

Her womb.

All of her.

She wants to be my Silk Girl, but I want her to be more. I was going to allow her to torture me, torment me with her body, keep her the one thing I won’t allow myself… Who is the damn obsessed one here? It is meant to be her!

I tear myself from her lips and press my forehead to hers. “Eat well. Sleep early. I will come to you, little creature.”

She pants against me, and I inhale the sweet breath, taking it as my own. “Then I’ll make you mine in the way you desperately desire.”

The demanding little thing trembles beneath me, sweet, nervous energy even as I offer her what she wants.

“So—” She gathers her thoughts and steadies her breath. “So you'll take two Silk Girls then?”

Why is she asking this? “Two?”

“Iris...” she mutters, the name heavy with emotion. That name again. “Red hair, big breasts, tall, leggy, the nictitating membrane.” Agitation pitches her voice. “You were with her last night!”

Her tone pisses me off.

Impertinent.

Improper.

Disrespectful.

I lift my head and glare down at her.

Fuck me, she’s pretty.

“I realise you’re emotional,” I offer, checking my temper. “But the next time you raise your voice to me, little creature, I’ll be fucking those sounds from you with my cock down your throat. Do you understand?”

Her breath hitches. “Yes, my king.”

I exhale roughly—that’s better.

My eyes pin her to the mattress, the effect instant as a shy pink glow gathers on her cheeks.

“You will not ask me this again,” I state smoothly. “Do not test my loyalties, make assumptions, or accusations. You have no right to ask me who I fuck or when or why.”

Her pretty violet eyes well up.

Dammit .

I touch my forehead to hers again, our breath mingling together. “I did not take another Silk Girl last night. I have never taken a Silk Girl, Aster. You are the first.”

Too much sentimentality and possessive rage make the need to taste her insufferable. Time to introduce my Silk Girl to her clit.

She whimpers as I climb down her body and slide my head under her dress. I know she’s naked underneath; I saw her scurry to put her clothes on in front of me…

And in front of Cairo.

A territorial growl rumbles low in my guts as I eat at her pussy lips. They are neat and closed, barely touched. I part them with my tongue.

She bucks off the bed, long moans escaping her in an instant. Her knees rise, presenting more for me to enjoy, but not enough, so I throw her legs over my shoulders.

Her hands fist the sheets by her hips, and my tongue laps from her arsehole to her clit and back. Over and over.

Groaning, I indulge on her as I admit, “Licking your sweet pussy lips makes me so hard.”

It takes every fibre of my restraint not to literally chew on her skin, imprint my teeth into her folds. Want more.

I don’t just lick her pussy, I claim it, feeding my hands between the mattress and her little arse, holding each cheek completely, controlling her pelvis.

I lap up and down.

“This little bud is your clitoris,” I utter, using the tip of my tongue on the tiny hidden knot, flicking it until she is jerking and mewling like a speared animal.

“It’s for your pleasure.”

I kiss the tiny hood, then push it down and suck the pink, supple bead that rises from it.

Still sucking, I use the tip of my tongue to bear down on the bundle of nerves. They fire. I hear her breathing become jagged, hear her cries of pleasure hint at anguish. At angst. At needing something just on the brim.

Too intense, her sounds tell me.

I lessen the pressure and focus on dipping into her wet, tight hole. She gets wet easily.

My perfect, little Silk Girl with her wet pussy. That will help when I fuck her. The juices filling my mouth are made to help my massive cock stretch her open.

When she ripples on my tongue, I groan into her, knowing her inner walls are clenching around her narrow channel, begging for friction and pressure.

I will comply.

Soon.

I fuck the mattress.

Very, very soon.

Coming back to her clit, I find the perfect pace and suck with gentle authority, wanting something from inside—her nerves to explode.

Her thighs tighten around my face.

Her left leg jerks from my shoulder.

She comes on my tongue.

And like the rest of Aster, her orgasm is sweet with vulnerability and confusion but still curious. As though she is unsure its real, I’m real, or what might be happening to her inexperienced, young body.

I am what is happening to her.

I am what is claiming her.

“Do you enjoy your clit?”

She is whimpering through her climax; her little cheeks jiggle in my cupped palms; her clit vibrates on my tongue. She is too lost to respond. Lovely. “Answer me, Aster.”

“Yes,” she cries.

Pleasing this pussy will undoubtedly become an addiction of mine, the rich flavour and soft scent perfectly balanced is enough to drive a man to thirst for it, beg for it, war for it.

And I am very skilled in the ways of war.