Текст книги "The poison daughter"

Автор книги: Sheila Masterson

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Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 48 страниц)

25HENRY

Up close, Harlow doesn’t look as mean as she wants to. She studies me with rapt fascination, like I’m a puzzle she’s trying to solve. Her bottom lip is kicked out in a pout as she concentrates on anything but my eyes.

Those full lips are distracting. I wish I hadn’t kissed her so hard after our vows. I can still taste her, and every time I look at her lower lip, I want to sink my teeth into it and hear her gasp again.

She always smells like Stellarium Blossoms, but with the flowers woven into her hair, it’s even more pronounced. If it weren’t for the intensity in her eyes, the braid and the dress and the flowers would offer a sort of sweet naivety. But there’s nothing innocent about the way she looks at me.

I wish I were less attracted to her. Then, I wouldn’t be sitting here wondering just how violet her eyes are.

“Are you well?” I ask.

She freezes for a split second. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“You seem tense,” I say.

Her eyes narrow, and she tries to shift away from me. The indecent dress strains against her breasts. Her nipples poke through the silk. I want to bite them, just to see how she reacts, but the communion is supposed to be about emotional and spiritual intimacy. The physical intimacy comes later.

I hate to admit that she feels good in my lap. Her body fits perfectly against mine.

I run my fingers up her right leg, tracing the slit in her dress. “You’ve hardly touched your first course,” I whisper.

“Forgive me for not being terribly hungry.”

“It’s normal to be nervous.”

She smiles sweetly. “Only concerned my new husband might not be able to perform in front of a crowd.”

I clench my teeth. “No need to worry about that.”

Her cheeks go dark. She knows exactly what she’s facing in that room. She saw me naked last night.

“I know we are just pretending, but these games can get rough, Harlow. You need a safe word.”

Harlow thrusts her lower lip into a pout. “It’s very sweet that you think so.”

I slide my hand up the back of her neck and grip her hair, giving it a quick, firm tug. “I promise you do.”

Goosebumps break out over her skin. That’s more satisfying than it should be. I already know what she’s comfortable with. She wrote it down for me. But seeing it on paper and in action are two very different things.

Her gaze keeps darting to the door of the ceremony room. I understand her apprehension. This must seem a strange custom to her, and, if I’m honest, it feels strangely casual to be feasting right beside the room where we’re supposed to do a sex ritual to honor Kennymyra. Loath as I am to admit it, she’s been remarkably easy-going about our Mountain Haven customs.

She seemed to enjoy watching Bryce on hunt night, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she’ll enjoy being watched. Plus, it’s one thing to be watched by someone who’s into it and quite another to be watched by a room full of people who don’t like you.

I would never admit it to her, but I’m apprehensive about the ceremony too. Being heir comes with expectations, and given that Harlow is the daughter of our enemy, I know everyone wants to see me fuck her into submission. I’d probably enjoy it.

But there’s pleasure in the long game. If I can win her over, get her to choose to let her guard down and give me what I want, this victory will be so much more satisfying.

“Stars,” she says finally.

I lean in close so my lips brush the shell of her ear. “Good girl. I can’t wait to see your face when you realize you’re going to come.” I chuckle low, and she squirms. “I know you’re going to fight me—but when you’re struggling, just remember I’m going to enjoy knowing that you hate how wet you are for me.”

The shock in her eyes is there and gone so quickly, but it zips through my body like a shiver. She leans in, her breath ghosting over my lips. “I’m going to smother you in your sleep.”

Then she kisses me. The room erupts into a combination of hoots and applause.

We’re not really supposed to kiss during this communion. I’m almost certain she knows that, but of everything she’s seen at the fort so far, this closeness is the thing that’s made her most uncomfortable. She doesn’t like intimacy that she’s not in control of. It gives me an irrational thrill when I think of how much I’m going to enjoy teaching her that surrender can be fun.

I move my hands down to squeeze her ass, and she immediately pulls away to glare at me.

I click my tongue. “I understand it’s hard to keep your hands off me, but you’re supposed to be looking into my eyes and telling me all your deepest, darkest secrets.”

Her lips twitch into the barest hint of a smile. She thrusts her hand into my hair and tugs my head back. She shifts closer, rubbing herself over my half-hard cock and pressing her breasts against my chest.

“Want to know my deepest, darkest secret, my wolf?” Her smile is wicked but so striking. It brightens her whole face.

Divine damn, she is beautiful.

She makes sure I’m looking in her eyes as she says, “My first husband had a bigger cock.”

I’m so startled, I laugh. Actually laugh. “No, he didn’t.”

She tilts her head and gives me a patronizing look, pressing a finger to my lips. “Don’t worry. You’re still very respectable.”

“We’ll see how respectable it is when you’re gagging on it.” I nip at her finger, and she gasps.

There’s a flare of heat in her eyes. I wonder if she’s thinking about that night in the boarding house and how instinctual and magnetic it was between us—how it still is.

I kiss the finger I bit. “Tell me a real secret. Tell me why you do it.”

She closes her eyes for a long moment and sighs. I can tell she knows what I mean.

“They’re all abusers.”

I wait for her to say more.

She blinks her eyes open and runs her fingers through my hair. For someone who has had little practice with intimacy, she’s alarmingly good at pretending.

“Do I need more of a reason?” she asks. “No one else is protecting those women.”

“That’s not what I asked. I asked why. What drove you to start something so dangerous?”

She signs in annoyance. “Is this really necessary?”

I arch a brow and glance around the room. Most of the guests are busy enjoying the feast, but my parents, Gaven, and Stefan are all focused on us.

She follows my gaze and sighs. “Rafe Mattingly.”

I frown. “The mayor?”

She nods.

“Your sister’s husband.” The sister she’s fond of—Aidia.

“My sister’s abuser.”

I wanted this secret—now I wish I could give it back. I thought there was no good reason for a woman from the highest magical house in Lunameade to make a hobby of casual violence, but there’s nothing casual about her work.

If some man put his hands on Holly, I would do a lot worse than poison him. I would rip him limb from limb, and it would be too soon when he took his last gasping breath.

She looks me dead in the eyes. “No one calls it violent when a man lays hands on his wife. They call it none of their business. But the moment a woman fights back—that’s violence.” She shakes her head and smiles bitterly. “Rafe is too much of a public figure. I can’t kill him…yet. The only way for me to survive—to not rip him apart with my bare hands every time I see him—was to become the inevitability the men of Lunameade were afraid of. Our city has stayed so small because women are still bound to their husbands. I can’t help Aidia, but I can help someone else’s sisters, someone else’s friend, someone else’s mother.”

There’s a challenge in her eyes, like she’s daring me to flinch. I won’t. If this is a standoff to see who is more monstrous, she won’t win.

I’m about to fuck her and then use her affection for me to rip her family apart. Her violence is petty compared to the vengeance I’m going to spread.

“So you kill other abusive men in the city.”

She nods, her gaze darting around the room to make sure no one is close enough to hear. “I have a network and a process that I follow to ensure the validity of all claims. I don’t just choose at random.”

This is too convenient. Her family could have somehow fed her this sob story as a good way to endear her to me.

But there’s something about the intensity in her eyes. In the way she was so annoyed when I interrupted her “hunt” the night before we left the city. Then, I couldn’t understand her urgency. But if her story is true, then it would make sense that she sees that job as her last chance to help the women of Lunameade.

“The night we met, someone set me up.” She runs her fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck. “It was my fault. The betrothal was a surprise announced in front of all the major magical families in the city. I just wanted to do one last job before I got roped into another political marriage and I skipped part of my vetting process. I swear I didn’t know it was you.”

Her annoyance seems sincere.

“Now give me a secret back, and it better be a good one,” she says.

A petulant part of me wants to give her nothing. But I can’t crack her open if I don’t find some way to disarm her. I saw a hint of it last night, but I’m not in yet.

“The first time I saw you, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on, even in black and white.”

She rolls her eyes, not in the least bit charmed by my honesty. “Ugh, Henry. That’s a pathetic secret. I gave you a real one. Tell me why you really showed up with a marriage offer after ten years of silence—or tell me why you changed your vows.”

I run my thumb over her jaw, and she frowns. I don’t want to give her anything, but I will never admit why I changed the vows. If I show her any weakness now, she will use it, and I’ll lose all of my advantages.

But this is part of the ritual. I can’t opt out. The mini hourglass on the table is close to running out of sand. I could stall for a few more minutes and then lie to her once the ritual timer has run out, but as much as I’ve felt abandoned by the Divine, I don’t want to risk upsetting them by violating our customs.

“We need men to guard the wall,” I say after a long pause. “The Drained are getting worse.”

She tilts her head and narrows her eyes at me. She knows I’m stalling.

“Fine,” I huff, lowering my voice. “We need an heir with holy fire or some kind of protection magic. You know how rare that blessing is, Harlow. Like you said, the best chance I have is joining my bloodline with a bloodline that has that magic in their line as well. The families here in the fort who have that blessing only have sons. You were our last resort. If we don’t get supplemental guards soon, we might not last the winter.”

She purses her lips, considering my words. They tell the truth, but not all of it.

I’ve made sure she hasn’t seen the extent of our staffing issues, only bringing her to places that are fully appointed with hunters, but at some point, she will notice. Maxime’s injury on the wall last night made that much clear.

She clicks her tongue. “Oh, my feral wolf, you are a very good liar. You shared a truth, but not all of it. Pray the Divine don’t notice.”

I grit my teeth in irritation. I don’t know how she knows I lie, but it’s making everything so much harder.

The room erupts in clapping, startling both of us. A quick glance at the timer and I know why. We’ve completed part two of the ritual.

One more step and Harlow will be bound to me. Finally, after years of waiting, after all of the planning, after all of the heartache and grief, I will finally have taken the first step to make it right.

Harlow practically leaps from my lap and gracefully sits back in her seat. Soft laughter breaks out in the crowd as she gulps down the rest of her wine.

The musicians begin to play as the servers bring in the main course. Even as the feast is served, revelers crowd the dance floor, swirling around the floor in bright flashes of color and black masks. It’s a relief that everyone seems appeased for now, despite the fact that Harlow is a Carrenwell. Maybe her speech had the desired effect.

As a server places a steaming bowl of pasta in front of me and Harlow, I slip away from the table and cross the room to the bar.

The server there has my favorite whiskey waiting for me, but I barely get to take a sip before my father steps up beside me.

“You changed the vows.”

I knew this conversation was coming. “I did.”

“Why? Blessing chafing already, son?”

The blessing is something I can master in time. It doesn’t matter if it compelled me to slip up already. I can use the moment of weakness to my advantage. That one moment of surprise was enough to throw her off, especially since she had already said her vows.

I shake my head and glance across the room at Harlow. She’s sipping her wine and glaring daggers at Stefan. She’s a pain in the ass, but at least she knows how to close ranks when it’s appropriate.

I just have to make sure she doesn’t get too enthusiastic and actually murder him. That wouldn’t look good for the family.

“She is very untrusting,” I say. “I needed her to think that I changed my mind last minute. If I had led with those vows, it would have seemed like I was trying to lull her into a false sense of security. An impulse decision is more believable.”

My father’s frown morphs into a smile. “Thank the Divine. I was worried she’s already got her claws in you.”

I smile sardonically. “Only in the most literal sense.”

He chuckles. “Seems like you have this in hand. Are you ready for the final part of the ceremony?”

I nod.

“Is she?”

Sipping my drink, I watch Harlow over the rim of my glass. She hasn’t touched her food, but she’s doing something with mine. Probably poisoning it. I’ll have to make sure someone brings some food up to our room later.

“I guess we’ll see.”

My father pats me on the shoulder. “We’ve waited a long time for this opportunity. This is the last step to solidify this alliance. It will grant us the men we need to guard the wall, and, Divine willing, it will eventually give us some peace.”

I worry that inviting men from Lunameade into the fort will just create a whole new set of problems, but we don’t have much of a choice. We desperately need the support.

Seeing Maxime go down last night was a wake-up call.

My father squeezes my shoulder. “Your mother and I will stay by the door so we’re as far from the ceremony as possible. You can tell Harlow that. It might put her more at ease.”

I doubt that anything will make her feel at ease about getting fucked by the husband she doesn’t want in front of a crowd of people who hate her and her family.

I’m suddenly glad she opted to wear lingerie. It feels like too much to ask her to be naked and vulnerable with so many eyes on her.

I shake my head. What is wrong with me? I knock back the rest of my whiskey and hold out my glass for the server to refill.

“Go eat something. You’ll need your strength. And get her up to dance in a bit. She looks stiff and it might help her relax,” my father says.

I nod and cross the room. Several guests offer their congratulations as I pass, but just as many give me looks of distrust, as if this marriage is a choice I made out of love and not necessity.

Across the room, Stefan is leaning against the bar, talking to several notable fort families. He looks like a king holding court, all smiles and humor as they laugh at whatever story he’s telling. It’s easy when you have nothing but theoretical ideas of how to fix our issues. More and more, it seems that our people are out of patience—that they prefer fantastical promises to hard truths.

By the time I sit down next to Harlow, I’m full of doubt. What if this plan does more harm than good? What if I can’t get Harlow to open up to me fast enough to win my people over?

I stare at my plate, trying to compose myself, and it takes me a full minute to realize that Harlow has pushed my food around and used a long, stringy piece of pasta to spell something out.

Infection?

When I meet her expectant gaze, she’s grinning. “Well?”

I laugh because of the strangeness of the day, because I’m so tense from these expectations, and because I thought my new wife was nervous, but really, she’s just been planning my demise by checking off ways I’ve died from her mental murder list.

The question rebalances the ground between us. I should be angry. We’ve been married a half-hour, and she’s spent the entire time thinking of creative ways to kill me. But I’m relieved that whatever we said in our vows, the truth remains. She is my adversary through and through.

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26HARLOW

I’m relieved to be away from the heat and burning eyes of the ballroom. I can almost pretend I’m not about to get fucked by the new husband I hate in front of a room of people who hate me and my family.

I’m grateful to have a few moments of relative privacy in this little room tucked behind the ceremony space. It’s no more than a windowless space with gray stone walls, a vanity, a couple of chairs, and the soft glow of sunstones in the fireplace.

We already agreed on positions and what I’m comfortable with in the library, but I’m still tense. What if he ignores my wishes and does whatever he wants? He’s been waiting ten years to fuck my family. What better time than when he’s literally fucking me?

But Henry doesn’t seem the type. He will want to do everything exactly as I’ve given him permission to and still make me come. He wants to prove he can because he knows that would be more humiliating than anything else he could do.

Too bad for him it’s not going to work.

I slip off the silver dress, careful to keep my front facing the servant as I hand her the dress. The last thing I need is for anyone other than Henry to know about my scars—well, I suppose other than Henry and his parents. I have to operate under the assumption that he’s shared everything we spoke about with them.

The servant woman hangs the dress carefully and hands me the red slip I had made for this ceremony. The fine silk and delicate lace slide smoothly over my skin as I pull it into place.

I walk across the room to the looking glass next to the fireplace.

The servant steps up beside me. She’s a pretty young woman with honey-blonde hair and full pink lips and a hazy purple aura. She’s blessed by Elvodeen, Divine of Strength. I wonder if she has healing like Henry or some other type of strength magic.

“Take your hair down, miss?” she asks.

I meet her eye in the mirror’s reflection. “Do you think Henry would have a preference?”

She smiles warmly, pleased by my interest in her opinion. “I think most men of the fort like to see their wives with their hair down. We’re normally all pinned up.”

I nod, and she goes to work, plucking the flowers from the elaborate loose braid that took more than an hour to weave earlier. She unravels the plait a section at a time until my hair is free, the loose waves hanging down my back.

“What’s your name?” I ask as she grabs a roll of linen from the dresser beside us.

“Cora,” she says, holding up the roll and blushing. “This is for after—for the bleeding.”

“Oh, I won’t bleed. It’s not my first time. I was married once before⁠—”

“No.” Cora’s cheeks turn bright red. “I thought they’d told you. There’s a blood bind in the ceremony where you’ll cut your palm. I’m sure Henry will heal it, but you don’t want to get anything on your slip. This silk is very fine.”

“The book I read wasn’t very explicit about what a blood bind means,” I say tentatively. I don’t know if the omission of detail was intentional or not.

Cora’s eyes flit to the door and back to me. “It’s all for Divine Kennymyra, for pleasure and vitality. Most ceremonies involve pleasure of the flesh, which is measured in how much vitality is in the blood after. You’ll press your palm to Kennymyra’s sigil in the headboard—there’s a sharp point at the center of it, and you just hold your bloody palm there. If she’s pleased by your offering, it will glow golden.”

“I see.” I don’t really see at all. Things here are much more ritualistic than I’m used to, but what’s a little blood between two enemies?

“Do you know Henry well?” I ask.

Cora flushes again and looks away. She seems a bit too shy to be his type, but someone like Henry must have lovers here. He’s attractive in the wild mountain-man way that seems to be popular, and I’ve certainly noticed the way he turns women’s heads.

“Just in passing. He’s respectful but quiet,” she says.

“Am I in competition for his affections?”

Cora smiles faintly. “I wouldn’t worry about Miriam, miss.”

I smile tightly, like I know who she’s talking about.

“His eyes follow you wherever you go.”

Yes, because he doesn’t trust me.

“Obviously we all know it’s a political marriage, but you really seem to have won him over. A lot of the women here are wondering how you did it,” Cora says. It’s as if one question uncorked all of the words inside her. “How did you do it?”

“I tried to kill him,” I say. “Sadly, it didn’t take.”

Cora freezes for a moment and then bursts into laughter.

I smile and pretend to laugh along with her as if this is a joke and not the most honest thing I’ve said since arriving at Mountain Haven.

“You have a quick wit,” Cora says. “No wonder he looks so smitten.”

A knock sounds on the door.

Cora stands a little straighter. “That means they’re ready for you.”

I nod and stand as she hands me a red silk robe that matches my slip.

Cora sweeps my hair over my shoulders and smiles brightly. “May Divine Kennymyra bless your union.”

I nod and cross the room. Gaven is waiting for me when I push open the door to the small antechamber that connects to the ceremony room. He immediately averts his gaze, placing a hand over the silver mask on his face for emphasis.

“I know you wanted me elsewhere, but I was apprehensive about being away so long,” Gaven says. He hesitates, and I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him look so uncomfortable. “It’s not as if I want to be in the room, but I think I should. What if they lock me out?”

“Gaven, they’ve already had easier chances to kill me. If you’re in the room for this, I’ll actually want them to succeed in offing me.”

He lets out a surprised gasp that sounds like half a laugh.

I pat his shoulder. “I’ll be fine. Just stay out of earshot. Consider that a command. There will be no better time to snoop around this place.”

He sighs and nods curtly, then shoves the heavy wood door to the ceremony room open for me. I step inside without hesitation.

Roughly forty masked faces turn toward me as I enter the space. The murmuring group quiets and shifts to take their places in an arch around the bed. Several men stand toward the front of the crowd, their colorful auras pressed out wide.

Though tonight’s ritual is to honor Divine Kennymyra, I know the heads of the fort’s most powerful families are the ones we really have to impress with our performance.

The room is bathed in golden candlelight from the red candles in the wall sconces. Shadows flicker over the ceiling, making the knots in the intricate wooden beam look like ghoulish faces. Servants flit about the room, refilling wine glasses. There’s a door on the far end of the room that leads back to the feast. Music from the party filters in under the gap in the door.

Finally, I turn to face the bed and my new husband standing beside it. Henry’s changed from his wedding clothes into a red silk robe that matches mine. The top gaps open, revealing his broad, scarred chest as he holds out a hand in invitation. When I take it, he yanks me closer and pushes my back against one of the bedposts. He kisses me hard. I’m so shocked, I let him.

My heartbeat kicks up and I’m suddenly nervous—not about the public sex so much as the fact that I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep my composure. Whatever that blessing did—or maybe some reckless desire for oblivion—makes me want him.

Henry breaks away from my lips and kisses along my jaw, pausing at my ear. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

I don’t like feeling at his mercy. I need something—anything—to balance this dynamic between us. Henry is so tall, he looms over me. His eyes on me are heavier than the weight of the collective gazes of everyone else in the room.

“Is Miriam the woman you were trying to fuck on hunt night? Is she here tonight?” I ask.

Henry’s aura flares in surprise. “I didn’t take you for the jealous type. I know better than to bring her around my murderous wife.”

I glare at him, but I’m relieved that the comment had the desired effect. There’s a hint of annoyance in his eyes.

He moves so quickly, I can barely track him as he hooks an arm under my legs, sweeps me up, and then tosses me on the bed. I bounce once, and before I can right myself, he’s prowling over me. He unties my robe and sits back to drink me in.

Bea used to say I have a body built for fucking. My breasts are full but perky. My waist is slim but my hips are wide, and my ass is high and round from all the running.

This isn’t the first time Henry has seen me naked, but under his assessing gaze, I wonder if he prefers someone with a fuller figure, like Miriam.

“Is this red?” he whispers, drawing a finger along the lace edge of the neckline.

I nod, and he hums low, closing his eyes. I wonder if he’s trying to remember red. I try to imagine what it would be like to have a sense and then lose it.

He puts his hand on my chest, but he doesn’t cup my breast or tweak my nipple. He just presses his huge, callused hand to the soft skin, his fingers resting against the pulse point in my neck.

My heart is pounding so hard.

“I’ll keep you covered,” he whispers.

When he was kissing me, it was easy to ignore the eyes in the room, but now that he’s reminded me, I feel suffocated by their attention. In my periphery, I only see black masks. I’m relieved Gaven listened to me, and the anonymity of the masks makes this a little bit less uncomfortable, but not much.

I want to choke Henry for making me so aware of them. I look up at him with as much defiance as I can manage. “I’m not ashamed of my body.”

A muscle in Henry’s jaw twitches. He runs a finger down the center of my chest, then grips the top of my slip and rips it down the center, baring me to the room. The violence is so sudden and shocking, we both freeze. His hungry gaze scrapes over my skin and he licks his lips.

He cups my right breast, gently brushing his thumb over my nipple. He pinches it lightly. When I don’t react, he pinches it harder, and I arch off the bed, pressing into his hand. He hums, the slight twitch of a smirk on his lips as he caresses my skin.

He kisses me again, and I’m torn between shoving him south so we can get this over with. We discussed what I was comfortable with ahead of time, but I wasn’t expecting him to kiss me so much, and every time he does it, I feel so disoriented by how much I like the closeness. Pain is grounding—but the tenderness unnerves me.

As if sensing my distraction, he pinches my nipple even harder, and I groan into his mouth and shudder. Damp heat rushes between my thighs. I told him I liked it rough because I thought that would be easier to sell than some slow, sensual lovemaking, but now I’m worried what this kind of recklessness will bring out of me.

He nips down my jaw, buries his hand in my hair, and yanks my head back to give him better access. His other hand slides down my side, passing over warm skin, shredded silk, and then more skin. He rakes his fingers up and down my thigh, progressively moving from outer to inner thigh.

He bites my neck hard, and I gasp. The hand on my inner thigh pushes the remains of my slip higher. The cool air hits my pussy and I feel just how wet I already am.

The first brush of his fingers over me is so gentle, but I shudder like I’ve been struck by an electrical charge. He chuckles into my neck.

He’s enjoying this, and I hate it. Maybe that’s exactly why he’s enjoying it. I want to slap him, but instead I press my hand against the wooden headboard. The cool metal of the sigil to Kennymyra set into the wood grounds me.

As he kisses down my chest and sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, he slides a thick finger inside me. I’m wet enough that it glides in easily. He curls the finger and bites down hard on my nipple, and I lose all composure.

I moan. My hand comes to the back of his head reflexively, but not to push him away. I urge him on. He sucks hard to ease the ache, and my pussy clamps down on his finger as he starts to slide it in and out.

I’m mindless with pain-tinged pleasure. I want to blame the blessing and the ceremony and how tense I am, but some part of me is wondering if he’s actually going to be able to get me over the edge.

His mouth drifts to the other breast, nipping at my skin all the way. I’m going to be covered in bruises, but as he bites the other nipple and shoves a second finger inside me, I’m too dizzy with lust to care. He moves his fingers faster, pressing the heel of his hand against my clit for friction.

He traces rough kisses down my stomach, withdraws his fingers, and shoves my thighs wide, baring me to him and the rest of the room.

I’m suddenly aware of just how many people are around us—the closest no more than eight feet away. They can see everything. I’m not modest, but it’s so strange to be watched like this.

I really don’t care—as long as they don’t see my back, and so long as Gaven isn’t in here.

Henry gives me no time to think about it. He holds my gaze as he lowers his mouth and gives me a slow lick, then plunges his tongue inside me. I reflexively try to squeeze my thighs closed, but his hands press them back into the bed as he starts to fuck me with his tongue.

The benefit of having tried to kill him twice is that I’m certain nothing is going to hurt him. For the first time in my life, I can relax and enjoy what’s happening without worrying he’s going to forget himself and die.

I try to ignore the rapt gazes of the crowd. Their masked faces make them more anonymous, but I recognize Bryce and Carter, and that’s unnerving.

Henry slides two fingers inside me, drawing my full attention back to him. I want more. This isn’t enough. I need him to stop messing around and fuck me. I agreed to this because he said it was necessary to prove his commitment to service, but I just want this over with.