5. Clash of Stone and Steel #3
“Touch yourself,” Talyn said softly against Cyra’s ear as she guided the lady’s hand into the water between her legs. “Touch yourself the way you want your lord to touch you.”
“I…”
“Close your eyes, my lady,” Talyn said, and she leaned around to see that Cyra had done so. “Now connect with your lord’s mind and let him feel what you’re feeling.”
Talyn ran the sponge down Cyra’s chest again. She circled each breast with it, letting her thumb flick the lady’s nipples as she went. Cyra let out a deep breath as her hand moved between her legs.
“Would Lord Bressen be angry to find me touching you like this?” Talyn asked softly.
Cyra huffed a small laugh. “I doubt it. It would probably arouse him.”
Talyn suspected as much, but she’d wanted Cyra to say it, to realize it.
“Then let him see my hands on you,” she urged.
Talyn abandoned the sponge to knead Cyra’s breasts and pinch her nipples gently between her fingers. The peaks stiffened even more, and Cyra moaned softly as her hand began to move faster.
“Is that how he touches you?” Talyn whispered, and Cyra nodded.
“With just his fingers, or does he use his tongue as well?” Talyn asked.
Cyra smiled, her eyes still closed. “I love when he uses his tongue.”
Talyn felt a tightening between her own legs as she watched Cyra stroke herself.
She closed her eyes and imagined what it might be like to have Samhail’s large hands on her body, to feel their roughness on her skin.
She’d watched him enough that she could almost imagine the hot warmth of his mouth on her breasts, his hard length inside her…
Talyn had heard plenty of stories about Samhail from the other female servants in the house, but she wasn’t sure how true they were.
As much as these women desired the man, Samhail had apparently never taken any of them to bed, probably out of respect for Bressen, so as not to create drama or chaos within his household.
Nevertheless, the women claimed to have heard and seen plenty.
One of the kitchen servants had heard from someone, who knew someone, who knew someone else who swore that Samhail’s cock was large enough to split a woman in half.
One maid was certain his cock turned to stone when he shifted into a gargoyle, and another insisted she’d seen Samhail come out of Bressen and Cyra’s bedchamber half-dressed in the wee hours of the morning weeks ago at the Citadel.
Cyra whimpered, drawing Talyn’s attention back to her. The lady arched her back, which pushed her breasts up, and without thinking, Talyn closed her mouth over one nipple. Cyra cried out as Talyn swirled her tongue around the bud and sucked it into her mouth.
“Does it feel good when Samhail does this?” Talyn asked before biting down gently.
Her eyes flew open a second later as she realized what she’d said.
She shouldn’t have let herself get caught up in the fantasy, but she couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to have Samhail touch her like this.
She hadn’t been this attracted to a man in…
ever, and thinking about him had distracted her from what she’d been saying.
But Cyra didn’t seem to notice the slip.
“Mmm, yes,” Cyra murmured. She began to thrust her hips up to meet her hand. “I love it when they do that.”
Talyn lifted her head from Cyra’s breast. Wait, had the lady just said “they?” No, she must’ve misheard.
Talyn lifted the sponge again and squeezed it so that water trickled down Cyra’s neck. She leaned in close to blow on the wet skin, and gooseflesh rose on Cyra’s arms. The lady let out a soft moan and drew her knees up farther in the tub as she rocked against her hand.
“Oh gods,” Cyra breathed as the water churned around her.
The lady seized in pleasure a few seconds later, and Talyn felt her own body cry out for a release. She was wet and aching, but she’d have to wait until she could get back to her own bedchamber to do anything.
Talyn and Cyra both jumped as the door to the bathing chamber slammed open. Lord Bressen filled the doorway looking thunderous. His cock bulged against the front of his pants, and his power seemed to ripple off him like smoke.
A small shiver ran up Talyn’s body at the sight of him, and, as if he sensed it, Lord Bressen’s eyes flicked to her.
“Out, Leeda,” he said. “I need to speak with my wife.”
Talyn looked at Cyra, suddenly wary of leaving her alone with the lord, but only heat filled Cyra’s gaze. The lady bit her lip as her eyes remained locked on her husband.
“You can go, Leeda,” Cyra said without looking at her. “Lord Bressen can help me finish my bath.”
In the doorway, the lord let out a low growl.
Talyn rose and wiped her wet hands on her skirt, then hurried out of the room. The lord moved out of the way to let her pass, and the door slammed shut behind her. Seconds later she heard splashing followed by Cyra’s squeals.
Talyn paused, wary of leaving, but a moan came from behind the doorway as Cyra began to invoke the gods again, and Talyn decided it was safe to go.
She felt a little bad for manipulating Cyra as she made her way back to her room. In some ways she pitied the lady. Cyra was lonely. Her best friend was halfway across the country, and she usually only saw her husband at night when his work was done, although clearly there were exceptions.
Cyra would likely be busy for the foreseeable future getting her new vineyard up and running, but that might only exacerbate her loneliness if it took her away from her friends and husband even more.
She might even forego her trainings with Samhail and Axenus for a while, and that would be even less time she’d spend with people who cared about her.
If Cyra’s connections with those around her started to fray, Talyn could only imagine the disastrous repercussions there might be for a being of Cyra’s power.
She’d seen the storm the woman created on the beach several nights ago, and it had been truly terrifying on a number of levels.
It made her feel at least a little more certain about what she had to do.
Talyn slipped inside her room and went straight to her pillowcase to pull out the message leaf from Sandrian. The three-word command remained as she’d read it earlier, the ink seeming overly stark against the paper as she let the words sink in.
She read them one more time before she lit the leaf on fire and watched the flames burn away the evidence of Sandrian’s order:
Kill them both.