18 #2
But when men are feeling cocky, they are also vulnerable.
Exhaling a long, slow breath, I look up at him with my softest, most pleading expression. “So… you’ll let me come with you?”
I already declared I was going anyway. It’s decided. But I’m going to let him think it was his choice.
His fierce expression relaxes immediately, his eyes filling with such tenderness that my heart does a delighted flutter in my chest.
“If you must,” he replies.
“That’s settled, then.” I sidle to the right and step out of his space. As I move away, I reach for the side buttons of the bodice, and again I feel the sickening tug at my stitches.
“I’ll do it,” Vawn offers.
Inwardly I groan, not because of the pain but in anticipation of his proximity. I should be used to him by now—somewhat immune to the magic of the raw sexual energy that seems to radiate from him as a matter of course. He doesn’t even try—it just happens. Desire is a byproduct of his existence.
He’s already approaching, taking my arm and lifting it so he can access the buttons along my side.
They’re tiny and finicky, so it takes him a while to get them all undone.
During the process I stand there and try to breathe and yell at myself for the way I feel when we’re alone.
My head is a storm, and my chest is a swirl of fluttering birds, settling now and then only to take off again in a mad rush of feathers.
When he’s done with the buttons, Vawn helps me out of the gown and its underskirts, despite my muttered protests.
Lady Kaenan’s maids didn’t put a corset or bustier on me tonight—they simply added more swaths of cloth around the bandages to give me enough support.
Thanks to those strips of white cloth, my nipples are covered, but barely.
Vawn surveys my chest with obvious appreciation, but he appears more distracted by the lacy white panties, ribboned garters, and sheer white stockings I was wearing beneath the gown and its crinoline.
“That is a different look for you.” He licks his lips, then glances at my face. “I’m used to seeing you in black or brown.”
“You can go now. Thank you for your help with the buttons.” As he walks toward the door of his room, I add, through gritted teeth, “And thank you for everything you did while I was unconscious.”
Blood rushes to my throat and face, and I push away the vague memories of that delirious ride on the carpet.
The idea of Vawn having to clean shit from my privates, as though I were a helpless baby, is too awful to think about.
Despite his admiration of my lacy underthings, the experience must have changed the way he thinks about me.
Even if we hadn’t been on the verge of parting ways, he would never touch me again the way he did in Weaver’s Canyon—not after performing such a foul task.
Vawn halts at the door between our rooms and looks back, frowning at me. “Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Torturing yourself with shame. Everything I did for you was in pursuit of your survival, and I would do it again.” His voice is so deep, so full of resolve, that it gives me chills.
It’s a tone he rarely uses, and though I like his lighter, more playful tones and his seductive cadence, I love this voice the best. It’s the voice of someone responsible, powerful, and capable.
“You’re still troubled.” He tilts his head. “Explain.”
“It’s nothing. Only… you must think me disgusting after that.”
Light breaks like dawn in his eyes as he grins.
“You’re afraid I don’t find you desirable anymore?
Darling, I’ve been present for some very unhinged parties, at which I’ve watched other people soil themselves in a number of ways, only to fuck them on some future occasion.
The natural emissions of the body don’t make it permanently undesirable.
Those things can be washed away and forgotten. ”
“True,” I murmur.
“What interests me more is the fact that you want me to think you’re fuckable.” He prowls toward me, a wicked smile playing over his mouth. “But you said our little tryst in Weaver’s Canyon was going to be the only time.”
“It was. It is.” I want to retreat, but I stand my ground, holding fast even when he reaches me.
Vawn watches me for a moment, observing my reaction to his nearness. He bends close to my breast, inhaling my scent, then moves his nose along my neck, never touching my skin, only hovering and breathing.
My nipples peak and my heartbeat skates higher.
“Shall I prove to you that I’m not revolted, lovely?” Vawn murmurs. “Would my tongue in your slit convince you?”
I suck in a panicked breath. “I’m wounded, as you’re so fond of reminding me.”
“I’ll be so careful. I’ll give you the most delicate little orgasm.” His hand hovers between my legs, nearly touching the silky fabric covering my pussy. When I shift forward slightly, he hums with triumph and cups his hand between my legs.
“You know I want you terribly,” he confesses. “I felt you watching me all night, so remote and beautiful and disapproving behind your mask. It made me so fucking hard.”
That’s why he was aroused? Because of me?
“I don’t understand you one bit,” I whisper.
“You do, though. When it matters, you do.” His mouth drifts along my cheek, approaching my lips, but I turn my head away. Kissing is too much. Too confusing.
“Fine,” Vawn seethes, his breath hot on my cheek. “I’ll kiss you elsewhere. Get on the bed. You’ve been standing all night.”
The sheets have been changed since I was last in the room. I fold down the covers and slide onto the clean, fresh surface, leaning back against the plump pillows. The luxury of it all relaxes me and conspires to dissolve any remaining resistance I possess.
Vawn removes his shoes, but otherwise he remains fully dressed as he climbs onto the bed. I part my legs for him, and he coaxes each one to bend at the knee, moving them farther apart, kissing my inner thigh as he does so.
He doesn’t take off my panties. He simply plucks the wet material away from my skin with his long nails and pulls the fabric aside.
“Look at this lovely wine you made for me,” he says. “Have you been wet all night, sweetheart?”
I turn my head aside on the pillow, avoiding his gaze.
“Desire embarrasses you, and yet you took advantage of human lust to put yourself through the Academy. Why are you not allowed to feel what other people do?”
“I am, but I—oh—” I writhe, startled by the first long sweep of his tongue.
“You find it difficult to yield.” Vawn licks me again, then moans softly.
“Gods, how do you taste so good? Sweet and sour, salty and savory all at once.” He wraps both arms around my thighs and buries his face in my pussy, licking with such relish that my arousal spins into something beautifully frantic, exquisitely desperate.
I whimper as the muscles of my stomach tighten, and Vawn looks up to say reproachfully, “Don’t strive for it, lovely. Let it come. It will happen, trust me.”
He ducks back down, and my head lolls, my eyes closing as sensations burst from my clit, coaxed by his dancing tongue.
Even without his glyphs, he’s very good at this.
I know he has given head to many people before me, but he’s sucking my pussy lips, licking my opening, and teasing my clit like I’m his favorite, like I’m the best thing he has ever tasted.
Maybe he acts this way with everyone, or maybe…
Maybe I’m special.
I want so badly to be special.
Vawn lifts his head again, but the pad of his thumb finds my clit, making tiny massaging circles. “Don’t allow worrisome thoughts into that beautiful head. Think about what turns you on. A scene, a fantasy.”
A fantasy…
My mind skips back to our performance at the Pink Lycan, when Vawn played the knight who forced his princess.
It was a twisted scenario, designed to humor the darkest impulses of lustful men, and yet it titillated me, too.
There is something primally compulsive about a need so powerful that it can’t be stopped.
I imagine Vawn taking me like that—not really against my will, but maybe against my better judgment.
Chasing me through the halls of Anyssir Castle, tearing off any shreds of clothing I wear, and dragging me to the floor.
I get up and run again, bare-breasted, exposed, and he catches me in the dining hall.
I fight him, but in the vision I’m weaker than usual, and as we wrestle together, rolling naked across the tiles, he manages to get his cock inside me.
The image in my head coincides with a rapid flutter of Vawn’s tongue against my clit, and with a tiny gasp, I realize that I’m coming, beautifully, easily, without having to struggle for the climax. The pleasure unfurls between my legs, through my lower belly, along my thighs and everywhere.
Vawn licks me until I’m done, then pulls back, leaving me damp and quivering. He replaces the strip of wet fabric over my pussy, then wipes his mouth before meeting my eyes. “What were you thinking about?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. I felt the change. You relaxed, and there was a surge of that lovely pussy wine. What went on inside your head?”
“None of your business.”
“Was I there, in your naughty fantasy?”
“No.”
“Liar.” He smacks my thigh lightly. “You blink more often when you’re lying. Did you know that?”
“Do I really?”
“Yes.” Vawn leans in, taking a long sniff of my underwear. “I think that’ll last me a while. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go… relieve some pressure.” He winks at me and rises from the bed.
My eyes widen. “Are you going to…”
“Stroke my cock until I come while thinking about the delicious drink I just had? Yes.” He grins, unabashed, and squeezes his bulge lightly.
Words spill out of my mouth before I can stop them—impulsive words that barely sound like me, and yet are somehow deeply true to my nature. “If you’re going to do that anyway, you might as well do it here… so I can watch.”