CHAPTER EIGHT #2
They stared at each other. Maximus was sitting with one leg propped on the other, his arms crossed over his chest. His pose was protective, as if he was trying to close himself off from her.
Daphne wondered whether he was wrestling with himself, fighting some sort of eternal battle.
His daughter’s room was right next door. Was he as aware of that as Daphne was?
In contrast to his body language, Maximus’s eyes devoured her ravenously.
Daphne watched him take in every inch of her that was visible above the bubbles, his gaze passing over first her face, then her neck, then her freckled shoulders.
She raised herself an infinitesimal amount, exposing an inch of cleavage just to see if he would look. He did.
“Do you make a habit of this?” Daphne asked.
His eyes snapped back up to hers. “Of what?”
“Offering women baths.”
Maximus smiled. “Not usually.”
“You should.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s…nice.”
Nice was the very least it was. Daphne felt glorious. She’d never been in a bathroom as fancy as this one, much less had a bath like this. She felt like a queen.
“I shall take that under advisement.”
“Good.”
His smile lingered. His arms remained crossed.
“I’m sorry about what happened the other night,” Daphne said presently.
Maximus raised an eyebrow. “What happened?”
Did he really not remember?
“You know…when I walked in when you were…getting a…” She trailed off, unwilling to say blow job in front of the prince. Even though she was naked in his bathtub, somehow it felt lewd.
“Ah,” he said, his mouth twitching in amusement. “I should be the one to apologize. I should have known to lock the door. It wasn’t my first time in that pantry.”
“I assume that you make a habit of.”
“I used to.” His eyes dipped to her cleavage again. “But not anymore.”
Daphne didn’t quite know what to say to that. The memory of Veronica on her knees with his cock down her throat was so vivid Daphne couldn’t help but become even more turned on than she already was.
“Why not?” she whispered.
Maximus licked his lips. “My interests have changed.”
“How so?”
Throughout their conversation, Daphne had shifted closer to him. If she reached out her arm, she could touch his knee.
“Getting head in a pantry doesn’t do it for me any longer.”
Daphne knew exactly what to ask next. She said it before she could stop herself: “What does do it for you?”
Maximus’s answer was a single word, whispered into the space between them: “You.”
A surge of power tingled up her spine. She had him. “You can’t have me,” Daphne whispered. “I already told you that.”
“You told me you didn’t want to have sex until you were in love. You never told me I couldn’t have you.”
Daphne waved her hand, dismissing his words. “Same thing.”
“No.” He uncrossed his arms, set both feet on the floor, and leaned forward. “It isn’t.”
“I’m not in love with you, Maximus.”
“Then we won’t have sex.”
“What else is there to do?”
His elbows were on his knees, his entire body leaning toward hers as he said, “Touch yourself.”
Time stood still. She was at a crossroads here, and she knew it. If she touched herself in front of him, it meant she was entertaining this charade—giving him false hope that someday, they might do more, but she had no intention of ever doing more with Maximus.
Yet Daphne ached with need. Ever since meeting Kronos she’d existed in a state of perpetual arousal, desperate for some sort of sensual experience. Perhaps this was an avenue to get it.
Daphne was on a new journey—one where she valued herself and her body for the first time in her life.
Was this a violation of that journey? No.
This was a situation of her own making. She had been the one to accept the bath; she had been the one who invited Maximus to stay.
She had even been the one to steer the conversation toward something sexual when it hadn’t begun that way.
She wanted this. And she was in control.
Daphne leaned back.
Her spine was against the hard porcelain of the tub, her legs stretched out beneath the water.
She spread them slowly, knowing full well that Maximus couldn’t see what she was doing.
Then she paused. The anticipation was nearly better than the act itself.
The prince was silent, still leaning forward, still watching her intently.
Daphne could see how eager he was—how desperately he wanted her to do this.
Perhaps it was about power for him. Or perhaps he truly felt something for her. Daphne knew which one it was for her.
Slowly, she trailed her hand between her legs.
Maximus’s eyes flicked to her arm, watching the motion like a hawk.
She reveled in this moment, savoring the in-between where he did not know whether she was touching herself yet.
And then she was. She brushed over her clitoris lightly, biting her lip as she did it.
Just like that, they had begun.
Daphne didn’t make a sound; that would come later.
Instead she focused on the way her fingers felt as she slid them deep inside her center, imagining they were someone else’s fingers instead.
Her motions were slow and purposeful. Daphne was quite sure Maximus was in no rush, and even if he was, she wouldn’t listen.
If she was going to touch herself in front of him, she was going to do so in exactly the way she wished.
Her other hand went to her breasts, teasing one nipple and then the other, caressing them beneath the cover of the bubbles.
Maximus released a low, tortured sound, his eyes tracking the motion of her shoulders.
Daphne smiled. “What are you thinking about?” she whispered.
Maximus didn’t hesitate for even a moment. “Everything I want to do to you.”
Daphne was thinking of everything she wanted Kronos to do to her.
She thought of the terrifying power she sensed in the basilisk, and how it made her feel.
She pictured him touching her the way she was touching herself, sliding his fingers between her legs and stroking her until she came.
Daphne wanted nothing more than to give him that.
To Maximus, she said, “What do you want to do the most?”
The prince shook his head. “Too many things to count.”
“Choose one.”
His lips twitched. It was delicious to see him like this: desperate for her.
Daphne never thought she’d hold a prince in the palm of her hand. Not even Veronica, with her tits out all night, had managed to make it to the prince’s bathtub. Daphne had done it without even touching him. “I want to make you come.”
She shrugged. “Anyone can make me come.”
“Not like I can.”
Daphne smiled.
Maximus frowned, his gaze trained on hers, his eyebrows raised. Her response was clearly not the one he had expected. “Do you not believe me?”
Daphne shrugged again. She was far past the point in her sexual experience where she was impressed by promises or mere bluster.
Men were always telling her they could blow her mind.
It was just like the conversation she’d had with Kronos: Do you truly think there is nothing I could do that would make you tremble?
Only when Kronos said it, she believed it.
“Why do you want to make me come?” she asked.
“So you can feel good.”
“I feel good already.”
“So you can feel incredible.”
Daphne snorted. “No one has ever made me feel incredible.”
Maximus leaned forward. “In that case, I shall be the first.”
“I really doubt it.”
“Why not give me the chance to impress you?”