Born for Silk (The Cradled Common)

Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Aster

A Silk Girl Vow—The Act.

For The Cradle, my skin will be smooth like silk, my entrance wet, warm, and welcoming, and I'll draw the weight from my lord with my core.

He will pierce me open, and blood will flow from my delta; a heavy fall is my mark of a pure soul.

I will thrill and quiver in being the vessel that brings him peace. I will massage him inside my heat, clearing his mind and mine to all but Meaningful Purpose. And should I feel pleasure build within me, I will thank him for it, in each thrust, and I will protect what he inserts inside me.

I do as I'm told. I visit the Silk Dining Room while the others are treated for aches. I bathe in hot water and minerals until my body feels loose, and I climb into bed early.

Well before last-light.

With my veil on, I curl on my side, the sheets shuffling over my naked body.

I try to welcome slumber.

But my mind rolls.

I don't understand relationships. Mine have been staged, dutiful, and procedural. I know nothing of human emotions besides the ones I feel inside me. And I definitely don't understand the actions or afflictions of a Xin De king.

But I understand anger.

And he was furious.

He threatened Master Cairo…

For me.

Does he care about me?

I touch my lips below the hem of the veil, feeling his phantom warmth. He kissed me. He kissed me, and I could feel how much he cared, how angry and unsure, possessive and annoyed he was. I felt it all. All those truths.

From one kiss.

I know I assumed—another shameful trait—but bloody sheets left Iris’, Blossom’s, and Daisy's rooms, so... That leaves Ana. And…

Shit.

Lord Darwin.

Does she carry his heir?

I want to ask her if her lord visited last night, but I’m afraid that if I do, she will start to suspect…

And suspicion is not a virtue.

What becomes of her now?

Or the king is lying.

I just don't think he is.

The kiss didn't lie.

Somewhere in the midst of one thought and another, slumber wraps me in a tight, warm hold.

Not until I feel air whispering across my legs do I stir. Sheets glide down my body. The bed rocks me from side to side, and I know he is prowling over me.

I don’t move, but I open my eyes, blinking my lashes against the smooth black veil. The seam of the silken material caresses my upper lip, my mouth mostly free and exposed to the air.

My heart races immediately.

“Aster.” My name purrs across my ear as he hovers over me. “Are you wet for me, little Silk Girl? Are your smooth, white thighs quivering for me? Are you afraid of what I’m going to do to you?”

My mouth parts, the thick weight of his words pressing on my chest, squeezing air from my lungs. Shit. His palm moves up to grip my throat, rolling me to my spine within the cave of his large body.

“Fuck,” he utters, strained. His breath blows through my hair and his rough, warm cheek touches mine through the silk veil. “You smell so fucking good.”

I start to tremble.

He glides his hand up from my shin, gripping and massaging a shearing path to my knee before pushing my thigh to the mattress. Spreading me.

His touch is firm—authoritarian—yet gentle and reverent. As if he knows how fragile I am in his arms, but he can work the pieces of me so they do not shatter.

A strong, large hand spans out over my core, pressing his palm to my weeping lips. “So wet for me. Your defiant mind may misbehave, but your body is so very obedient to me.”

He moves down my torso.

Mouths my throat.

Then, licks across my chest. Treats each nipple to his lips until the aching buds stiffen, forcing whimpers from me. He hums, his exhale gushing heat along my flesh.

I gasp and arch into him.

One arm braces him just above me.

The other traces from the back of my knee, over my hip to the side of my breast, and down again, scorching a path of warmth and yearning.

Then he shifts.

And it’s time.

My eyes widen behind the silk veil when he positions himself. My senses heighten, touch, sound. Everything— him.

With his lips to my forehead, his muscular arm slides up my spine until he cups my head and cradles my torso, controlling me against him.

His hard, long length is a pulsing rod that bruises my core and up my trembling stomach.

“My king,” I plea, terrified.

With no room to move, my arms curled between us and my fingers by my chin, I can only flatten my hands to his chest. I am utterly vulnerable to him, more now, in this position than ever before.

“I’m going to get lost in the feel of your tight, wet pussy, little creature. Use your claws on me. If I hurt you, make sure I know what you’re feeling. Bring me back to you.”

I curl my fingers into the hard, warm plane of his carved muscles to show him that I can, even with his pressure—everywhere. I shudder and try to lift into him, grinding, already desperate for the pleasure I know he can bring.

It dawns on me then, as I become aware of the entire mass of his length, measuring it in my mind in comparison to me… And I swallow. It’s too big, but that is why we breed Xin De with Common now. To fix our physical differences.

“Is it possible that you’re too big?” I blurt out.

His hips demand mine to open wider. “You are soaking wet for me; you will let me in. And I will restrain myself. Just relax for me, sweet creature.”

Fingers touch inside my folds, swept up and down, spreading my natural lubricant around. With a grunt, he is fisting his length and swirling the swollen head up and down my entrance, stirring me into a frenzy of panic and anguish.

“Need this.” The words beat against my forehead as he presses the crown through my folds. “ Easy .” He isn’t talking to me. “ Fuck .”

My body sinks, swallowed up by the mattress.

When he beats against the sensitive seal inside me, I’m hit with a bolt of warning. A whimper escapes my throat, but he doesn’t stop working his way against the resistance inside me.

Not for a second.

The sensation burns and burns. Then he stabs through me, folding me inward like a new rosebud. Agony heats my abdomen. Spasms twist in my thighs. Turns me inside out.

Crying out, I dig my nails into his chest.

“Aster.” He whispers apologies and praise while he thrusts deeper, possessing my body entirely. “It’ll be over soon, little Silk Girl. You’re perfect. Untouched. Let me in.”

I let his words overrun my senses. “Yes, my king.”

Holding me with dominance, preventing me from recoiling, he stretches me open, one thick inch at a time, until I can no longer fit anymore. No longer breathe, think, or feel anything but the weight and pressure of him absolutely everywhere.

“There you go. You have taken as much of me as you can. I’m so proud of my sweet creature.”

He rolls against me, his length sliding but never completely withdrawing, never allowing me a full breath, consuming my every cell with him.

His rhythmic strokes are powerful, painful—overwhelming. Each one wrenches a long, moan through my lips. And I’m lost in them.

“My king,” I whimper, needing reassurance.

“Yes, sweet thing. I’m here. I’m going to fuck you, over and over, until you’re pregnant.” His words spur him on further. “Until my sons and daughters grow inside your womb. Swell your belly. This is my pussy, my womb, my damn body. Fuck.” Heat from his growl caresses my forehead. “Remember your claws, little creature.”

He speeds up, pumping, his mouth mauling and licking at my forehead. I feel the beast inside him breaking loose, threatening to tear me apart with passion.

I’m wet. So wet for him. It helps. The tightness inside me melts around his thorough penetration, the pain transforming into beautiful agony that I don’t want to end.

He feels like pain and desire.

Like danger and grace.

Tears rush down my temples.

He rears up and possesses my throat, pinning me, pumping in and out, my entire body gyrating beneath him. Pain shoots through my abdomen again, too deep, too thick.

Desperate, I reach up, needing my hands on him to feel safe, but he’s out of reach.

He catches my swinging wrists and presses my palms to his warm abdomen, where the muscles tighten with each thrust. “I’m here.”

My head is spinning, and I think I might blackout when he grabs my thigh and angles my backside, taking me down a path of pleasure.

Then there is no gravity.

No room. No bed. No up. No down.

Just him and me and his length rubbing every nerve that lines my channel.

“Fuck.” He groans, his hips moving, methodical and powerful. “That’s my good girl. Squeeze my cock. Let me feel you fall apart for your king.”

My pleasure blooms, then it quickly erupts, warmth rushing down the inside of my legs and curling my toes. I never want him to stop.

Even with the pain.

A deep, dark groan rumbles from him, and he tense as if he may shed his skin, his abdominals bulking beneath my fingers.

He pumps into me with a rough growl and comes, filling me between the legs until it’s pouring out of me, down my thighs. It’s violent and intense.

He stills, breathing loud and fierce.

I wish I could see him.

He drops down to his elbows, his body completely covering mine, his lips finding their place against my wet forehead. “My sweet Aster.” His breath is heavy. “My little creature. Tell me you’re not hurt.”

Coming down from that place of intensity, I feel my body. Feel him still inside me, hard and softly pulsing. Feel a tightness in my chest as I inhale a deep breath, perhaps the first since he started. Feel my pussy—that’s what he calls it—sore, swollen around him. Feel my thighs ache.

“Aster?”

“I’m okay, my king,” I say, my words a butterfly on the breeze, fragile but determined.

Lifting my trembling arms, I cup the back of his thick neck. Stroke him. Subtle. And immediately, his tension lessens, his inner beast shuddering.

A rough sigh cascades across me. “Is this what you wanted, little creature? Are you happy?”

Blinking, my lashes tickling the silk, I smile despite my lethargy. It strikes me—this is why we spent hours in ballet. To keep us nimble, loose and flexible, and to train the body to recover after intensity. It was always sold as a means for grace and posture, but as a familiar muscle fatigue squeezes me, I realise this is the main reason. “To be your Silk Girl, my king. Yes. I’ve been training to be one, and to be yours, to carry a lord. What more could a girl want?”

“More,” he utters, but it’s hardly audible.

He moves down to my lips, his length drags from inside me, and I gasp at being emptied, but he swallows my sounds, kissing me hard and confusing my senses.

“Don’t move,” he orders against my soft, nervous lips. As his mouth moves on mine, he slides a pillow under my backside, hoisting my hips.

My spine pangs with shock as he moves me, trails kisses down my naked body and leaves me panting to the dark, air cooling my sweaty flesh.

I can’t see, but I can feel his gaze between my legs. Warm fingertips touch my aching core.

“Is there a lot of blood?” I ask.

“Yes,” he hisses, a tight jaw dulling the word.

Something warm and wet laps along the outside of my swollen lips, the stimulation so subtle and so profound.

I blush. “What are you doing?”

“I want to taste your virgin blood.”

“Master Cairo will be glad,” I offer in response to having a heavy bleed. My seal was strong; it’s a sign of purity.

Blood is good.

And I’m fine.

Still unsure how I feel, I try to focus on one emotion, but I feel so many. I almost want to cry, overwhelmed. And I wonder whether Iris felt anything or whether she was a perfect vessel without useless emotions, only focused on her Purpose.

I hear his growl against my pussy. “Don’t say his name while we are together, especially while I am licking your blood from your swollen pussy lips. This is what he made me do to you. Break you. Hurt you.”

His words tear into me.

It’s what I wanted.

I’m so confused.

Didn’t I do this right?

My vows: I'll thrill and quiver in being the vessel that brings him peace. I'll massage him inside my heat, clearing his mind and mine to all but Meaningful Purpose .

He is meant to be peaceful. I’m meant to have taken his darkness and frustrations. I failed—my throat tightens with tears. “You don’t want an heir, my king?”

“It’s not that simple.”

Yes, it is.

Still blind, I squint as the dark shadows dance around the room. “It is. Didn’t I bring you peace? Was I not good?”

“Your life may be simple and peaceful,” he states, his voice growing rougher, bearing a dark hatred. “Bat your eyelashes, spread your pretty thighs, and let a lord fuck you bloody, but I’m not so easily conditioned to my so-called-Purpose.”

He makes it sound awful.

His cruel utterance delivers a crushing hit, bursting the cracked dam of my resolve. Overcome, overstimulated, I give in—tears spring from my eyes, a sob wrenches from me.

He curses, prowls up the bed, and pulls the veil from my face, demanding I look at him.

“No!” I try to keep it on, to hide from him.

He doesn’t let me, his fist holding the silk in the curve of my neck. “I’m sorry.” He kisses my eyes as they weep. “Aster. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you ruining this for us?” I sob.

“I’m not a kind man! I warned you.”

“Yes, you warned me. You warned me well.” Glaring up at him through the dim, I see his perfectly virile features through a sheet of tears. “You’re not a kind man! You’re not a man, not human at all!”

I want to hurt him. Like he just hurt me. Though I doubt he cares. He’s probably pleased to be without humanity, without Common romanticisms. Just like Iris is, all my emotions are disorders to their kind.

“Aster.” He kisses me once. “Only for you.”

“Only for me what?”

He drops his forehead to mine, exhaling hard. “Humanity only clings to me for you, little creature. Don’t cry.”

“I was meant to bring you peace,” I admit.

“Peace.” He lifts his head, his dark gaze softening on my face, following the roll of my tears. “Is that what this feeling is?”

I sniffle. “You feel peaceful?”

A small smile wars with his lips. “I feel something… I want to stare at you and your pretty human tears, don’t want to move from this moment, and will kill the man who interrupts this— This still. This… contentment. Is that peace, little creature?”

“Almost,” I answer. “I think you’re fighting it.”

“I was built to fight.”

My chest squeezes for him. “You can stop when you’re with me, my king. You can be gentle because I like it. You can be kind because your words matter to me. They hurt me. I won’t tell anyone what you look like under the thick skin they made you wear in this life.”

“ Fuck .” Groaning, he drops to my side, keeping his body close and his hands on me.

I don’t move, my spine flat to the mattress like it advises in my studies. Backside elevated. Breathing even.

My skin tingles beneath his fingers as they slide up, settling on my lower abdomen. “You make me weak, little creature.”

I turn to look at him and shuffle slightly without moving my hips from the pillow. “Do you care for me?”

“Did I not just say that?”

“No.” I pause, shaking my head. “You didn’t.”

“I did.” His brows pinch together, shadowing the dark message in his gaze. “You weren’t listening very well. I won’t often repeat myself, little creature. You are my weakness because I care.”

I swallow.

He reaches out and taps my nose, bringing a smile to my lips with how tender and wholesome that is. “Sleep. You have a big day tomorrow. As do I.”

“Will you be gone when I wake up?”

“Yes,” he states, his eyes are warm, with something hidden. My hopeful soul deems it disappointment, but I don’t know what else is buried beneath his stoic blue gaze.

I blink a few times, thinking of what I might say to keep him for longer.

We could discuss The Trade and The Cradle.

I could touch his tattoos, follow the scars and wounds, learn each one’s dark history.

We could be friends…

But it’s not done.

Not between a king and Silk Girl.

And no one can see him leave, at least not the wrong people, like the other Silk Girls or Watchers. People who could whisper in the corners of The Estate and put the heir in danger. So he must go.

He pulls me closer, tucking me into the curve of his long, muscular torso. “You have me, Aster. Inside you. Remember that. You are the most precious possession of The Cradle. I know that was never your motivation in this, but it is true. You will eat, rest, and behave. If you need me, I will come.”

I bury my face in the crook of his neck, feeling the powerful thumping of his pulse on my cheek. “You’ll come?”

His throat moves as he says, “I will.”