them and her underwear on the floor and then looking at her, very nearly naked, her legs spread wide and her nipples peeking out over the cups of her bra. Between her legs her pussy lips were slippery wet, pink and puffy, and he stroked them with one finger, sliding it inside to feel how wet she was.
Very wet. Her hands were busy freeing his cock, stroking him, guiding him into her and then he was there, pushing inside her, and both of them moaned. Bael withdrew then thrust again, harder, his eyes on Kett’s. They glittered, hard and bright, and her mouth found his as she wrapped her legs high around his waist and pulled him in deeper.
He didn’t take his time. He didn’t whisper soft caresses against her skin. He didn’t do anything except fuck her, hard and fast, losing himself in her slick heat, slamming into her so hard the table rattled. She clutched at him, shoving back with each thrust, fucking his mouth with her tongue.
With any other woman, Bael might have felt bad about being so brutal. But Kett took it all and gave it back, wild and fierce, spurring him on. He felt her orgasm rip through her, her pussy tight around him, yanking him into freefall, and he came inside her with a roar she took into her own mouth.
The rippling aftershocks of Kett’s orgasm milked him dry, and even as he came back down to earth, holding her trembling in his arms, he felt her shudder one last time.
“I ain’t wearing that,” Kett said flatly.
Nuala’s eyes widened a little. Her pretty lips curved upward. She even flashed her dimples. Kett recognized this look-Nuala had been using it on her since the day they met. It was her stepmother’s most charming, helpless, I- desperately-want-to-please-you look.
“It didn’t work on me twenty years ago and it ain’t working now,” Kett said.
“Will you at least try it on?” Nuala beseeched, holding out a slithery bundle of silver fabric.
“Nu, I don’t
“You wear lace underwear,” Nuala pointed out.
“Yeah, but that’s because it’s all you buy me. And you know I ain’t going shopping for it.”
“Well, there’s no lace on this dress,” Nuala said. “Really. It’s very, very simple, unadorned, it’s not fussy at all. I knew you’d never wear anything fussy.”
“Then you should’ve known I’d never wear a dress!”
“Please, Kett.” Nuala gave her the big-eyed look again. “At least try it on.”
Kett glared at her stepmother but she couldn’t work up any real malice. Being angry with Nuala was like kicking a puppy.
“All right,” she snapped, and snatched the dress. Being that Nuala, like half the inhabitants of Elvryn, had seen her naked on countless occasions when she changed shape, she didn’t bother to go into the bathroom or hide behind the curtained bed as she dropped her bathrobe. Nuala, who was way sneakier than anybody so nice had a right to be, had slunk in and ambushed Kett as she was coming out of the shower. Bael, thank the gods, was off irritating someone else.
The silk whispered over her skin, and Kett had to admit it did feel wonderful. Ridiculously impractical, but wonderful all the same.
Still. Ball gowns weren’t meant to be practical. They were meant to be pretty. And Kett just didn’t do pretty.
“I knew I had to make something for you from that silk the minute Madame Debusser showed me the bolt,” Nuala said as Kett fought her way through the miles of fabric.
“Is that old trout still alive?”
“Of course she is. People as terrifying as her don’t just fade away,” Nuala said. “It’s the exact color of your eyes, Kett. I had to have something for you or your father from it.”
“Then why didn’t you make something for him?”
“I did. He has a shirt of the same material,” Nuala said happily.
“Tell me he’s not wearing it tonight,” Kett groaned. “If we matched it’d be revolting.”
Nuala’s eyes lit up. “Then you will wear it?”
Kett winced. “Bollocks.”
“Oh Kett!” Nuala actually danced on the spot, beaming with delight. She rushed over to adjust the dress, which was giving Kett some trouble. She’d gotten the skirt settled around her hips but there didn’t seem to be much of the top half.
“Here,” Nuala said, taking the two pieces of silver silk and drawing them up Kett’s body, over her breasts, and fastening them behind her neck. The arrangement left her back totally bare, and a good deal of her front too. The two wide strips of silk were attached only to the skirt, not to each other, and when she moved they revealed not only a lot of Kett’s cleavage, but a strip of her stomach, right down to her bellybutton.
“Kett, you look wonderful!”
Kett regarded herself dubiously in the mirror. Apart from her exposed bellybutton, she had the feeling if she moved too much the silk would slip away at the front or the sides and show everyone her breasts.
“Doesn’t the skirt hang beautifully? I told Madame D. knife-pleats and the narrowest of waistbands. She wasn’t happy, it’s quite fiddly, but of course it wasn’t her doing the sewing, it was one of her minions…”
Knife-pleats, were they? The folds of the skirt floated like rays of moonlight, billowing around her ankles with every movement. The silk caressed Kett’s bare legs, which was a strange sensation. And not an unpleasant one.
“Now, shoes…” Nuala said, and Kett snapped to attention.
“I’ll sort them out,” she said, and Nuala, who was holding a pair of tiny, strappy things that looked like they belonged in a rather specialized torture chamber, looked crestfallen.
“But they match the dress perfectly-”
“And I’ll go A over T within about five seconds,” Kett said.
“Nonsense, I know you’re perfectly graceful-”
“And I can’t wear heels, not with my leg,” Kett said in a sudden flash of inspiration. She gave a slight limp for emphasis and Nuala’s face really fell.
“Oh…no…I suppose not. Oh it’s such a shame!”
“Yeah,” Kett said, turning away. “I’ll-”
“Oh my gosh!”
Kett winced, wondering what it was now. And how the hell her stepmother could have remained married to Tyrnan of Emreland for twenty years and still have uttered something as sweet and childish as “gosh” when she was excited.
“What?”
“Kett, your back!”
Kett flinched. Ah. Yes. That was the other thing about being a shapeshifter. Covering up surface imperfections was a cinch. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of all the scars she carried, but it did cut out a lot of questions when she concealed them.
“You’ve seen it before,” she said.
“Yes, but…” Nuala was shaking her head in disbelief. “I’d forgotten. Does…does it still hurt?”
Kett shrugged. “Nah. In fact, lumps of it are numb. Scar tissue.”
“Goodness,” Nuala murmured faintly.
“Goodness,” Kett said, “had bugger all to do with it.”
“It’s as well you can cover them up,” Nuala said, and there was a sticky sort of silence.
“Yeah. Funny story,” Kett said.
Nuala looked almost fearful. “What?”
Kett debated how much to tell her, then figured, what with the ball and the servants having the day off and the outside caterers and wasting this much time with this stupid dress anyway, Nuala really didn’t need another thing to worry about.
“I…uh. Um. Can’t change at the moment. It’s a…uh…shapeshifter thing. Because I was…feeling a bit ill
