“I crave your cock inside me, Master,” she hissed, a furious heat burning her cheeks at the admission. What was worse, though, was that she hadn’t lied. Somehow, in her very softest places, she craved him. She hungered for more of his rough treatment. Dreamed of being claimed.
His fingers flicked faster at her sex.
Her crisis came. She moaned as it gripped her, making her writhe and twist on his lap, his finger still firmly in her bottom keeping her in place. Great waves of it rolled through her and her body shook and heated. The world around her flickered.
When she came to, descending from that dizzying height, she found herself panting on his lap, Sedrak gently patting her backside as if she were a beloved pet.
I am just a toy to him.
A faint resentment threatened to swell into disdain. And yet she couldn’t help the way his gentle stroking soothed her fiery spirit.
“Was that pleasant?” he asked, voice low.
“It… it was, Master.” She blushed when he eased his finger from her rear.
He rolled her over and brought her up to sit next to him. The way he stared into her eyes made her blush again. She looked away, unable to hold his penetrating gaze.
He put a hand under her chin and brought her eyes back to his. Stared even more deeply into them. “You are a pleasant companion, Leola Grace,” he said. And then a flicker of sadness seemed to flash through his features.
A shiver raced down her spine at hearing him speak her name. “Do not… send me away, then, Master,” she pleaded. She was surprised at her request, almost as though it had been born as an idea in her body, not her mind.
“Is it cold in the cage?”
She shook her head. “The furs keep the heat in well enough, Master,” she said. “It is…”
Sedrak seemed troubled, though she could not put her finger on what it was that troubled him so. Was it not what he wanted? To have her here, for her to tell him that she craved his touch?
“Tonight you lie here with me,” he stated suddenly.
He rose and lumbered to the tent flap. “Go to bed, Barval,” he said.
A momentary pause. “Yes, my lord,” the answer came.
Sedrak walked back and fell to the furs. Reaching over her he dragged a fur over their bodies. Leola remained as she was, face upturned to the tent, wondering if he would claim her, finally. She didn’t dare to move, unsure of what he wanted.
But Sedrak had closed his eyes and was snoring moments later.
Leola lay with her eyes wide open staring at the ceiling, the heat from Sedrak’s body keeping her awake. She poked a toe out, then a calf to cool herself.
What does it mean that we are sharing a bed?
The question followed her into her dreams.
Chapter 6
Shouts and clattering woke her. The air was cool inside the tent. The fire low, almost extinguished. But the warmth under the fur was pleasant.
She startled when she remembered where she was. Eyes darting to the side she found Sedrak missing. She sat up as memories of the last two days filled her mind.
The tent flap flipped open and Sedrak strode in. He was wearing his tunic and a loincloth that covered him more fully. He carried an armful of wood for the fire.
As she watched him cross the room she felt warmth build inside her. He looked… pleased. Totally unlike the warrior that had greeted her at the keep and brought Ryken to his knees. The usual scowling lines of his expression had lifted. Perhaps the light was different.
She watched him stack wood inside the makeshift hearth then blow on it.
He coaxed the fire to life until it started crackling. “Isn’t it rude to stare where you’re from?” he asked.
The question broke her spell. She turned her eyes down, embarrassed at being chided like an errant child. “I am sorry, Master,” she whispered.
“I jest,” he said, standing. “How did you sleep?”
She pondered this. She felt rested and had no recollection of bad dreams. “I slept well, I think.”
He answered with a grunt and a nod. Reaching out he brought a pot with water over the fire and placed it on the grate.
This puzzled her and it took a moment to realize why. “Master?”
“Speak.”
“You tend your own hearth?” she asked. She’d never carried a log to a fire in her life.
“I tend to what needs tending,” he replied. “When my people need a king, I am that for them. When a fire requires tending, I tend it. When a—” He cut himself off again, in the same peculiar way he had done so many times the evening before.
She watched him as he reached into a pouch, pulled out tea leaves, and threw them in the pot. They sat in silence until the water boiled. He pulled the pot off the grate and poured it into a cup. Standing, he walked over to where she was still sitting on the furs and offered it to her. “Drink,” he said.
Startled by the unexpected hospitality, she took the cup and pressed it to her lips. The tea was hot and fragrant. She sipped with both hands on the cup, watching as he walked around the tent collecting his sword and strapping the scabbard around his belt.
Each time she thought he might look at her, she looked away. But her eyes always returned to his towering frame and the muscles that flexed in his back and his legs as he walked. Somehow he no longer seemed as… intimidating. Overpowering, yes. Dominating. But that was not the same.
“Have you finished your drink?” he finally asked.
She lowered her eyes to the empty cup and nodded. Handed it to him when he came over and reached for it. It surprised her when, having set the cup down, he stretched his hand out again and stared at her.
He cocked his head to one side as she sat completely still.
