Chapter 8 Isha #2
She nods, biting her lip, her chest rising and falling more rapidly.
“It pleases me that you haven’t tried to circumvent them. So, how would you sate yourself?” I tip my head at her. “Show me.”
She hesitates only for a moment, and then one of her hands slowly drifts from the edge of the table, fingers trailing over her thigh, bared by the slits of her skirt, to pause at the thin drape of material covering the apex of her legs.
“Am I allowed to touch myself?” she asks breathlessly.
“I’m glad you asked. Therefore, yes.”
Her fingers dip under that curtain, and her eyes flutter at her first movements, hidden behind the veil. A tiny moan escapes her.
“I said show me,” I snap, drawing her attention back to me. “Or else you can cease right now.”
A flush colors her cheeks, but she wastes no time in twitching aside the length of material, looping it up around her hip.
With a wicked smile, she even props one of her legs on the end of my armrest, giving me a full view of her luscious center.
Her fingers go back to work, gliding through her glistening flower-petal folds to circle the tiny pink bud at the top.
Her moans grow louder, and her eyes close as her head tips back.
Her other hand rises assuredly to pinch and twist her own nipple, her back arching and hips rolling in a sinuous motion.
I can’t take my eyes off her. I watch her every movement as if bewitched by her inert magic, my mouth going dry and my length growing hard.
Perhaps she has bewitched me—if only ever so slightly.
Tracking the undulations of her hand, I can’t help imagining Deonyus down there last, and a possessive displeasure clouds my enjoyment for a brief flicker.
At least this little show is helping to wash him away.
And yet at the thought of him here, now, head between her legs, both of them performing for me…
or even both of them on their knees at my feet, serving me…
I become hard almost to the point of pain. I do my best to ignore it.
When I sense that she’s nearing her peak, I say, “Look at me.” Her head jerks up at my command, her gaze heavy-lidded and dazed in both lust and surprise. “Come for me.”
As soon as her eyes cleave to mine, they fly wide. Her body shudders around her hand, and she cries out loud enough for it to echo around the entire dining hall. She nearly slips off the edge of the table, but she manages to catch herself before falling.
“Good girl,” I murmur.
I still don’t touch her, even if both my hands and my hard length are twitching with eagerness. I merely wait while she catches her breath.
She looks up at me though loose strands of her hair without adjusting her gown back into place, her eyes a little wild. “You keep asking if I’m hungry,” she pants. “But is there anything you hunger for?”
“Many things,” I say slowly, once I’ve had my eyeful of her and I’m sure I have my voice under control.
“Then why not help yourself?” she asks, tipping her head at the admittedly more appealing spread of her legs than that of the table.
“I will.” I pause. “When you beg me for it.”
Her soft, sated expression hardens for a brief moment, though I still catch that undercurrent of guilty pleasure lurking beneath the bright defiance in her eyes. “Maybe you’ll beg me first.”
And then she reaches out and traces my jaw with her sticky fingers.
The shock of it freezes me in place for a moment.
No one touches me without my permission, which I rarely ever grant.
Even then, I can count the times. Part of me wants to take her fingers in mine and break them, hear her scream in penitence.
Part of me wants to turn my head ever so slightly and take them into my mouth, suck them until I’ve drunk every drop of her.
Yet another part of me wins out. I throw my head back and laugh at her sheer audacity.
No one—no one—has ever challenged me in my own realm like this.
When I finish, the echo of my voice still peals through the dining hall like the sound of her pleasure did.
I grin at her, and find she’s grinning right back at me.
“Where did you come from, little one?” I wipe at an unfallen tear, mostly as an excuse to skim my fingers through her scent, as if to save it. “And how did I get so lucky to get my hands on you?”
A shadow flickers across her face. Perhaps she’s remembering her murky past, largely beyond my reach, that made her who she is.
She only garnered my attention when she became Daesra’s latest toy—and then nearly his undoing.
I know much more about what they’ve shared together than her alone.
I’m curious to learn her history before they met, but if I ask about it, I’m sure she’ll refuse to tell me.
And I detest being refused. Even so, it’s that fight in her that I can’t resist—that flame I want licking between my fingers before I snuff it out.
Or perhaps she’s recalling exactly how I got my hands on her. From whom I took her. Dark anger streaks through me at the thought.
But then her lovely mouth curves into a sly smile. “You’ve hardly used your hands on me yet.”
“Is that you begging me?” I ask dryly.
She bites her lip again, her eyes daring me once more—eyes that I find myself getting increasingly lost in, like sinking into the depths of an emerald sea.
Which doesn’t mean I’m losing myself in her.
She’s a mere mortal. She’s my toy now. But such a cleverly fascinating one that I’ll have to maintain careful control—of both her and my own desires.
Her unspoken dare aside, she doesn’t say anything, let alone beg.
Such insolence. I just never imagined it could be so delicious.
I’m standing before her so quickly she gasps, caging her between my arms and forcing her to lean back against the table.
Dishes slide and topple off with a ringing, shattering clamor.
She doesn’t notice my fingers dip into my goblet of wine until they’re in her mouth, stroking over her tongue, pressing down on it and keeping her jaw prized open.
Her eyes pop at the invasion, the flavor.
She can’t help closing her lips around my fingers, sucking on them even as she shudders, until I hook her cheek and draw her face a hairsbreadth from mine.
Delicious.
“Next time, I’ll repay you in kind,” I whisper just shy of her lips. “Next time, it won’t be wine on my fingertips—but you. And you will beg me for it.”