The two of us stare at each other, the moment taut with tension.

I drop my gaze to his chest and deliberately place both my hands on his pecs. My pulse is pounding between my ears, my blood is roaring in my veins, and an evening’s worth of want is gathered up in me.

I push him gently. Memnon is as immovable as a mountain, but he lets me force him back, back, back until he bumps against a tree trunk.

My eyes rise to his throat, where I can just make out the panther tattoo that peeks out from the collar of his shirt.

Rising onto tiptoes, I wrap a hand around his neck and pull him to me. Gently, I graze my lips over the inked animal. Long ago, he got the tattoo in honor of Ferox, my familiar. My heart squeezes at the memory.

Memnon’s hand comes up, holding my face to his skin, like he wants to keep me there forever.

“Est amage,” he says softly, reverently, his free hand lightly stroking up and down my bare arm.

“I don’t want to command you,” I whisper into his ear. That’s what he wants. I want him to be at my mercy in an entirely different way.

So when I pull away, my hands slip to his pants, and I undo the button at the top.

“Selene,” he says, his voice roughened with surprise. He captures my wrists, trying to stop me. He can have my wrists. I don’t need them for what I’m about to do.

My magic rolls out of me, unzipping his pants and tugging them and what he wears beneath down his legs.

“When was the last time someone bowed to you, est xsaya?” My king.

Memnon goes preternaturally still, and when I meet his eyes, his expression is feral.

“Selene,” he says again, and his voice holds a dangerous edge.

He wants control? He wants strategy? He won’t get any of it right now.

I drop to my knees, my wrists still caught in his grip. The throb in my core has reached a fever pitch. I don’t know if it’s possible to come from arousal alone, but apparently I want to find out.

The sorcerer’s erection juts out proudly, a bead of precum glistening in the darkness. I have countless memories of taking him in my mouth, yet I’ve technically never experienced it in this life. That strange contrast only sharpens my desire.

I lean forward, wrapping my lips around the head of his cock. Memnon hisses in a breath. I draw my tongue up his slit, the taste of him nearly sending me. Shit, I might actually come this way.

“Selene,” he groans, his hips jerking forward of their own accord.

I take him deeper into my mouth.

Better than memory. So much better.

He still holds my arms captive, and honestly, it’s doing nothing but heightening my own arousal.

I pull away from his cock long enough to say, “If you don’t want this, release me.”

I stare up at him, waiting. His hands flex on my wrists but don’t let go. “Selene, you are the one who needs⁠—”

“I need this,” I interrupt. “I need you.”

With that, I lean in, taking Memnon’s cock as deep in my mouth as I can.

“Gods, Empress,” he curses as his hips begin to move in tandem with my mouth, “Feels like heaven. I’d almost forgotten.”

I smile around him, pleased by his reaction—pleased by him.

Slowly, I retreat from his cock until only the head of him remains in my mouth. Then I move back up his shaft, enjoying the feel of him against my tongue. I fall into a rhythm, one that has my own core throbbing harder and harder. The longer I work him, the more my jaw burns with the effort. Even that ache is familiar. And somehow, the memory of it is breaking my heart and filling it up all at once.

Through our bond, I sense his knees growing weak. My desire roars in my veins, but through our connection, I also catch wisps of the pleasure I’m giving him. My breasts feel too heavy, and the ache between my thighs pounds harder than ever.

Memnon finally releases my wrists so he can dig his fingers into my hair. “My queen, my mate, this is rapture…cannot last much longer.”

I can sense it too. Goddess, I can. It’s stoking the heat inside me, ratcheting it up and up.

I should leave you unfinished like this, I tell him, running my hands up his thick thighs. Feels so damn good. Just as you left me so many nights.

He’d sent me so many sex dreams, edging me without release night after night.

You’d be justified doing so. Memnon groans, thrusting a bit deeper into my mouth. I enjoyed cruelly teasing you.

I’m tempted, I say, my own core still throbbing as I release him from my mouth. But what I really want, est xsaya, is to see you lose control inside me.

Memnon is breathing heavily, staring down at me from where he leans. In the moonlight, his eyes glint like coins, his scar a darker shadow than the rest. He looks as though he were born from the darkness, the angles of his features sharp and wicked.

“I wanted to wait until you didn’t hate me so much,” he says softly.

Is that why he’s always stopped short of sex with me? If so, that’s…annoyingly noble.

I shake my head. “I called you here tonight for some quick, meaningless sex,” I say. “If you’re not up for that, you can leave.” It hurts to say this last part, but my arousal will pass. I’m not going to use our bond to force him to stay if he doesn’t want to.

Memnon crouches in front of me, not bothering to pull up his pants and tuck himself away.

“Est amage, you and I both know I don’t do fast fucks, and I definitely don’t do meaningless ones.” He regards me for a long moment. “I can eat you out until sunrise and beyond, but if you want me inside you, those are my terms.”

I narrow my gaze at him, my breath ragged. “You do know I can command you.” I think he’s forgotten who has the upper hand here.

He tilts my chin. “Then command me,” he challenges. “I willingly gave you that power over me.” Memnon stares at me a little longer. “Otherwise, those are my terms.” When I don’t say anything, he leans in. “I think, even caught up in whatever potion you’ve taken, you do still want deep connection, and you want to feel safe when everything else is out of control.” He pauses for a moment. “That’s all I ask for, Empress.”

There is a lot of nuance to his demands; it would probably be simpler if I sent Memnon away or stuck to oral. I don’t want that.

My eyes drop to his lips. “Kiss me,” I breathe.

In an instant, his mouth is on mine. His lips are a memory, and with every stroke of them, I awaken. I’m Roxilana, and I am Selene.

“Do you still want me?” he whispers against my lips.

I nod against him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

He grins against me, pleased, so pleased. Like he’s gotten everything he wants. His hands hook beneath my arms, and he lifts me up, twisting us so that it’s my back that hits the tree. The sorcerer lifts me high, high up over him, his magic twisting around my waist and beneath my thighs to keep me pinned there. I stare down at his face, confused at why I’m so much higher than even he is.

Until, of course, I realize my pussy is eyelevel for him.

“Nice panties,” he says a moment before he snaps them off. “Now, legs over my shoulders,” he commands.

“Wait, what?” I say dazedly. “I want you to fuck me.”

He leans forward and nips my dress and what he can of my pussy, and I yelp, bucking against him.

“We’ll get to that eventually.” He gives my ass a squeeze. “Over my shoulders, feisty witch,” he says again.

I do as he says before I can think better of it, only slightly miffed that he’s the one bossing me around.

He steps in close, forcing my legs farther apart. While his magic holds me in place, his hands caress the outsides of my thighs, pushing my dress up to my waist.

Cold air hits my pussy.

“Memnon,” I gasp, staring down at him.