I don’t know how long he licks and mouths me, or what sensation is what, or what my name is, but my ears are burning, and my spine feels like it might snap, and then⁠—

He turns his mouth and sucks on something higher than my opening, a bundle of nerves tightly pressed together.

Over and Over.

It feels like my bones seize-up, agonising and wonderful, like reaching out and touching death’s fingers without the pain, on the edge of something, a sensation that eclipses everything else.

I moan long and hard, writhing against his face. Shuddering, heart thrashing, feverish— Am I dying?

His tongue thrusts into me as I convulse around it.

Terrified of what is happening inside my body, my moans mix with whimpers as I ride the wonderful sensation despite my fears.

The pulsing, the electricity, the heat and tightness, slowly dwindle.

Bringing me down.

Lowering me.

Unfolding me.

When it’s all over, sweat mists my forehead and slides down my temples. My palms meet my face. I pant into them as he hovers over me, the heat from his body rolling along mine.

“You’re safe, sweet Aster. My sweet Aster with the sweetest pussy and the softest moans.”

“Is that what you felt?” I say, reeling from that otherworldly experience. “When I pleasured you?”

“Let me see you.” When he pulls my hands away from my face, his blue eyes dive into mine. "I'm going to do that,” he purrs, his tongue lashing out to taste his lips as he talks, “every time I need to make amends. It will be often, little creature. I’m short-tempered, but I'm keeping you. Understand?”

I blink at him, floating. "How?"

"Just obey me. Do as I say. I'll spoil you. You'll always be safe with me."

"Always?"

Questions fire inside my brain all at once: what about when I’ve finished birthing? What happens then? He must mean, until then. Correct? Until I’ve fulfilled my Meaningful Purpose. Then I will be a Sired Mother, and…

Blossom’s words echo in my hazy mind, ‘nothing lasts forever. Enjoy it while it lasts.’

Okay.

I can do that.

Can’t I?

He strokes his knuckles down my blushing cheek. "Look at you. Dragged into depravity with me. Embarrassed by how much you enjoy the way I lick your wet pussy."

“My what?”

He taps my nose. "Now that I've eaten. It is your turn, little creature.”

Aiding my shaky body, he helps me sit again, my muscles like goo, my brain mush—all my anatomy basically loose and gummy. I like it.

He grabs a muffin from within a glass dome container and holds it out for me, the fluffy pastry looking small in his big hand.

I take it, but notice it’s got a dollop of that yellow pudding stuff on the top. My nose creases for a moment but I soften it. I’ve never been a fan of it. We were served it on apples in the aviary.

His brows furrow. "What is it? You don't like something.”

"No. It's fine.” I smooth my silken gown down my legs. “I’m dizzy, is all.” I lower the muffin to my lap. “What did you just do to me? What was that part of me at the top, a… button… or something, that you touched?”

“You know all about my anatomy, but the part of you that is specifically for your pleasure, you know nothing about. Interesting.” His nose dips into my hair, and he hums. “I will show you very soon. I will take you on a little tour of all the pretty parts that will make you moan for me. But, for now, tell me what is wrong with that muffin."

I try to focus. "It's fine, my king.”

He leans back to stare down at me. "Fine is not acceptable. Ever. Tell me what you want, or I'll summon The Trade Cooks in here and have them slave away all night until they create something worthy of more than a fine from you."

"Don’t do that.” I breathe out hard. “I just don't like the yellow pudding stuff on the top."

"Custard.”

"Yes."

His lips quirk. "That’s lemon butter."

I look at the blob. "Oh."

My face feels warm from what he did to me, and when he scoops a dollop of the lemon butter onto his finger, pleasure stirs me to a puddle.

I instantly wrap my mouth around the tip, sucking the sweet, citrus flavours, moaning.

His eyes darken and he steps backward, leaning against the opposite counter, his gaze never leaving me. “Eat.”

I look down and see the hard, long length between his legs even through his pants. I know how big that is. How thick and hard. In the Silk House, when I imagined the male anatomy, I always considered it would be… tender.

I lick the butter from the top of the muffin, and it pulses in his pants. Shit.

When I had the thick head inside my mouth, it throbbed like that heart I fed Odio. I didn’t know that they moved on their own.

I thought they were, well, fragile.

Nothing fragile about his…

“Stop looking at me like that, little creature. You don’t know what you’re asking for with those big, fuck-me eyes.”

I snap my gaze back to his, finding an expression, dark and frightening.

Using the muffin to redirect my mind, I eat it. It’s good. Tart and sweet and dense, filling.

He watches me enjoy it

Too soon, I take the last bite and lick the doughy residue off each finger, feeling better now that my stomach isn’t empty.

“Is it unbearably heavy…?” I ask, glances at it again. “When it’s like that?”

It unsettles me how still he is at this moment.

“You want to know what my cock feels like while I watch you lick that muffin and then suck your fingers?” His voice strains. “When your little tongue comes out and laps at that butter, my cock throbs like a wound. I can feel my arteries pounding, the pulse is thunder between my ears.” He reaches down and palms his large bulge curving up between his hips. “It feels like my blood is literally boiling.”

He pushes off the counter and possesses the column of my throat. “Like your throat right now. Thump. Thump.”

I whimper, because he’s hot and close and threatening, but I’m not afraid. Without meaning to, I relax into the tight collar he makes with his hand. He dips, his lips meeting my ear, heavy breath rushing into my hair. “But the pain I felt inside my cock while I was licking your wet pussy was worse. Much worse. That was the sweetest agony of my life.”

The question dances on my tongue; will you come to me later tonight? I’ll stare at my veil and pretend I don’t recognise your deep groans, scent, possessive touch.

I open my mouth to ask when he reaches for my cloak. “Time to go back to your room. The Guard will be awake soon. We can’t have him reporting this.”

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter Ten

Rome

Her scars...

The tiny white rivers of past wounds that snake down her inner thighs. How did she get them? I could not be more pleased that I executed that Wardeness in the Lower-tower last week. She was careless and blind. This girl—my Aster—has not lived a gentle life needed to be a Silk Girl.

The last-light dim creeps away in the corridor as I leave The Circle and Aster…

"Aster is out,” I state, pushing open the door to Cairo’s quarters to find him hunched on the side of the bed, pulling a shirt on, the lashes from his flagellation on display for a slither of a moment. When I was a young man, I used to wonder what thoughts made him want to pursue a path of penance each last-light before he slept.

Now, I do not care.

I continue, “We are a lord down and she is the smallest. I will take the redhead."