“But that’s… I…” Leola tried to argue, but could not.
“Any man here will be pleased to have you when I am done with you,” Sedrak said, his mood shifting suddenly to calm. He reached for her at that moment, and touched her breastbone, making her shudder. His eyes met hers. “But no ‘legitimate man,’ princess. No one your very honorable, legitimate uncle would approve of.”
Sedrak delivered this final comment with a distinct sneer. His cruelty cut Leola to the bone, and she felt tears well up in her eyes, but she refused to let them brim over.
Leola’s head was spinning. Sedrak’s temperament ran from hot to cold faster than she could understand, and her own heart seemed pulled by his moods like a puppet on a string.
He turned, paced, turned again, and walked slowly toward her.
She stiffened as he approached and held her breath. Would he spank her again for telling the truth, as he had commanded? He was clearly upset, seemed angry, even. She had not wanted to anger him, but he had asked her to speak the truth.
“Do you resent your situation?” he asked her suddenly.
Leola jutted out her chin, determined to be brave. “I gave my freedom for my uncle’s life. It was… the right thing to do.” Her voice had faltered, and she struggled to maintain a strength in it that she did not herself feel. “I do not regret it.”
“Only for this reason?”
Leola could not understand what he might be getting at, so she stammered a few incoherent sounds before pressing her lips closed and then muttering, “It was the right thing to do.”
To her surprise, Sedrak thought on this, eyes moving around the features of her face. “You have a noble character, Leola Grace, or at least a quick wit.” He stepped closer still, his scent filling her nostrils, earthy like the forest and musky. His breath made the fine hairs on her skin rise when he spoke. “But your body betrays you. Does your pussy not wet for me again?” He pressed his hand between her legs, the warmth and strength of it sending a torrent of pleasure through her body.
She gasped, and rose up onto her toes to accommodate him. She clenched the muscles in her jaw, more humiliation burning through her at his question, and the truth that her body betrayed. How could she want this man, this cruel man, who was no more than a savage?
“Say it,” Sedrak growled.
“My… my pussy… w-wets… for you, Master,” she whispered, breathless. As he moved his finger along her damp slit her mouth fell open and she let out a breath. Suddenly she was lost in the sensations his touch brought again. Whatever promises she’d made to herself about resistance were abandoned as he pressed up against that spot again and squeezed. Her body trembled.
When he pulled his hand from between her thighs it was dripping slick. He wiped it on his loincloth and stepped away again. “What life were you meant to lead, then, before our paths crossed?”
Leola felt her body overtaken by a sudden fury as Sedrak’s mood seemed to change again. And yet beneath her fury there was that seemingly incorrigible desire that he touch her again. She hated him for it. Hated herself even more.
“I have no means,” she said, tone defiant. “I was my uncle’s ward. He was gracious to keep me even when I came of age.”
Sedrak tipped his head. “So very charitable of him.”
He seemed to be implying something; his disdain for Ryken was evident in his every word. But Leola was unsure of what he meant in this particular moment.
“He is not an evil man,” she said quietly, though she was not sure why she defended him.
Sedrak huffed. “I, like my people, believe men are made by their actions, not their words, or the sentiments of the women who love them. Or owe them.” He let this linger in the air, his eyes full of something Leola could not read. His mood shifted again, and he said curtly, “This matters not. Now you are mine to keep.”
Her throat tightened at the statement.
Hunching, he turned and lumbered back to his wine and his furs. Finishing the goblet, he snapped his fingers.
Barval darted in. He shuffled to the table, picked up a decanter, and refilled the goblet.
“Another one,” Sedrak muttered without looking at him.
Barval dared an angry glare at her before obeying the command. Setting the decanter on the table he retreated back into the night.
Sedrak turned and beckoned her to him. Lowering himself onto the furs, he waved a hand. “Sit with me,” he said.
She did her best to try to bend but the plug in her bottom wouldn’t let her. She turned, twisted, adjusted herself. Tried again. It was too tight. “Master,” she said, voice tight. “I can’t.”
He leaned forward, reached around and put one hand on her ass. With his nose just fingers from her sex, he drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Placing his other hand on the plug he twisted it.
It eased out of her.
She staggered forward, her balance upset by the sudden lack of pressure, and fell into his lap. She looked away as her breasts pressed against his chest.
“My touch still shames you?” he asked.
The soft tone with which he spoke sent a shiver down her back. Her anger ebbed. She glanced at him. “I am not used to it.” Her insides warmed when he smiled at what she’d said.
“Then perhaps you should practice.” He turned her head and made her look at him again.
The way he looked at her melted something inside her heart. Holding onto her resentment suddenly seemed impossible. Her lips parted when, for a moment, she thought he might lean in and kiss her.
What is wrong with me?
He slapped her bottom, but this time in a far more gentle, far more playful way.
She blushed and shied away nonetheless. “Have I upset you?” she asked. She was astounded
