Page 18 of When Kings Rise

Silence grows, and then I hear a whimper. It’s Niamh; I’d recognize her voice anywhere. She whimpers again, and the shuffle of clothes has me tightening my thighs together, making my chains rattle. A slurping sound has me tingling, and then Niamh’s whimpers turn to moans.

I want to shift again; I want it to be my turn. I imagine him with her legs spread, his handsome face buried between them, tasting her. He will taste us all like wine; only I will be the finest. I’ve shaved my pussy and used some rose-scented shower gel just for him.

The waiting is sending me forward, and my chains rattle again as Niamh continues to moan, and the slurping sound doesn’t stop; it only grows faster and louder. Is he using only his mouth or his fingers, too? I want to see what is happening so badly.

I want him to do to me whatever it is that is making her cry out in ecstasy. I tighten my thighs again as she continues to cry out until her moans turn to shudders and the lapping sound ceases.

Diarmuid’s footsteps grow close to me, and I spread my legs, letting him know I’m ready and want him, but once again, he walks past.

I hear water splashing and think of the wash station I had seen set up in the corner of the room.

It’s agony waiting. Please let me be next. But once again, the scent of his cologne flutters past me in a teasing breeze. I get a whiff, and then he’s gone.

Selene’s breathing grows harsh, and I know he’s moved onto her.

She isn’t as loud as Niamh, and I don’t hear any slurping, so I’m not sure what he is doing to her. But her rushed breaths turned to groans like she’s trying to keep them in but can’t any longer. Who could? I can assume that Diarmuid is a man who knows exactly what a woman wants. My breasts swell with need. I’m soaking, and I know the mere touch from him would have me releasing the agony between my legs.

It feels like an eternity until he pauses in front of me. I’m pushing against the restraints, yearning for his touch. And I get what I want. A large hand slides between my parted thighs and stops at my soaking, throbbing core. I inhale a sharp breath as he touches my clitoris. His breath brushes my cheek, and I throw my head back and let out a moan as he slips one finger inside me. I’ve never had any other fingers, only my own, inside me, and this is so much better than I could have dreamed of. A second finger enters, my head shoots up, and the pressure inside my walls grows around his fingers. I push myself down on his hand, wanting more. I moan into his face. His hand lands close to my chin before it trails up to my cheek, and he pauses. I want to scream at him. Don’t stop…I’m so close to coming, but he removes his fingers and then proceeds to remove my mask. I blink several times at the light before his face comes into view. He’s far more handsome up close, his jawline so strong, and his lips are red and swollen. His finger prods my face, and I recoil.

I glance at the other two girls, who still have their blindfolds on. Why has he gone off-script with me? I want to beg him to continue.

His finger circles the ache in my cheek.

“Who did this?”

The slap the maid gave me must have left a mark. I’m sure it’s worse since my mother got there first with her own slap.

“The maid,” I whisper, looking into gray eyes of steel. “She slapped me.”

He nods once; his features appear carved from stone. I’m surprised when he reaches up and undoes my chains. Does that mean this ends? I won’t get to come? I want to say something to him but let my hands hang at my side; as with professional efficiency, Diarmuid releases the other two girls, also.

I watch as he strides across the room like an angel who just escaped Hell. He’s beautiful but deadly, dressed all in black. He disappears through the door, but I still yearn for his touch. I find myself stumbling after him.

“Do not follow him,” Selene warns, but she doesn’t understand. It was different with me; he removed my blindfold and not theirs. So, there is more to Diarmuid and me than them. I leave the room and race to the balcony that looks down on the second floor, where a commotion has broken out.

He approaches the maid with slow, controlled steps, but the rise and fall of his shoulders is a warning that he’s angry. His guards stand along the wall, their gazes fixed ahead.

“You put your hands on one of my brides?” He questions, but before she can gather her courage to respond, he holds two fingers up, silencing her.

“I should have your hands for that.” His statement is so off-hand, yet it sends a deadly thrill down my spine.

“Or maybe your life.” He tilts his head like he’s really thinking about doing just that.

The maid no longer has that stern look on her face; she appears shaken to the core. I don’t know what has her looking up, but her gaze clashes with mine, and I grin.

“Take her out back.” Diarmuid addresses one of his guards, who moves toward the maid. I lean over the rail to see what will happen next.

“It’s your choice; he will take your hands or your life.” The guard grips her by the arm, and she starts to plead, but there is no forgiveness shown for what she just did.

“NO ONE touches them. No one. This is your only warning. I don’t care who you are. I will kill you.” His anger swirls and grows, yet his voice is low. Deadly. I clutch my heart in joy that brings tears to my eyes. He’s protecting me.

I’ve never felt more powerful as I walk back to the room where Selene and Niamh are waiting with their robes back in place.

I grin at them but don’t tell them what just happened. They will have to ask nicely first.

This is exactly the kind of man I need in my life. I have to win his heart, and I will.

CHAPTER EIGHT

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