Page 7 of Rise of a Fallen Man

Her thigh bumped into my straining cock, sending a fresh shot of heat through it.

“Ooh.” She slid her hand under the water to stroke me briefly. “Impressive. Even the chill doesn’t affect you.”

I just stood there, rooted in place, as she sauntered past me and toward the riverbank. Her hips swayed, water sluicing down her curves. Her wet shirt clung to her skin, leaving nothing to the imagination. And I stared, hating myself for it.

She winked at me over her shoulder before picking up her dress and strolling after Emil, who had run back to the manor.

I was not supposed to feel this way toward Lady Lana. She took me in as my benefactor. Until now, I’d felt nothing but respect and gratitude toward her.

All my life, I’d been striving to do the right thing, the way my parents, my teachers, and the priestess of Yarnus, the God of Purity, had taught me. And it all was undone now by one stroke of Lady Lana’s hand.

This was sinful. Wrong. Leaving me feeling filthy and filled with guilt. Clearly, something must be wrong with me if I had this kind of reaction to the woman who had practically replaced a mother for me.

I stayed in the water until my teeth chattered from the cold and my cock shriveled and drooped. Then I climbed out of the river, put my clothes on, and headed back to the manor, knowing that nothing would ever be the same. The pure, innocent part of me, the part that was the most treasured in a man in this world, stayed in the river, forever lost in its stream.

“WHERE IS HE?” LADYLana shrieked in the hallway.

Emil dropped the book he was reading while sitting in the window seat in my room. I put down my pencil and looked up from the picture of a sword I drew while laying on my belly on the floor rug.

The lady’s footsteps came closer, her heels clicking against the wood floors of the hallway.

Emil held his breath. The question“You or me?”floated in his wide-open eyes. The timid wave ofreflectionmomentarily made him disappear. And for a second, I foolishly wished it was me whom his mother was looking for. I could take her wrath and punishment better than Emil. He was such a sickly, fragile kid.

The door to my room slammed open, and the lady marched in.

“There you are!” She glared at her son, a white sheet clutched in her hands, a riding crop gripped under her arm. “Care to explain, Lord Emil? What is this?” She tossed the sheet to his feet.

Trying to make as little noise as possible, I rose from the floor and shoved my drawing out of the way.

Emil turned almost as white as the sheet she was pointing at accusingly. The fabric of it was slightly discolored in the middle. It looked like the spot had been starched, then scrambled, crusting over in the creases as it dried.

“You spilled your seed!” the lady shrieked, her face turning red to the roots of her reddish-blonde hair. “How dare you?” She moved on to him, holding the riding crop in front of her like a weapon.

“No, Mother...” Emil shrank back into the window seat. “I didn’t. I...”

“Then what is it?” she demanded.

“It wasn’t me.” His eyes roamed in panic before stopping on me. “It was Salas.”

“What?” I blinked, momentarily lost for words.

“Salas?” Lady Lana turned to me slowly, like a snake searching for the best moment to strike.

Emil’s eyes shifted from wall to wall across the room. “Yes. He...um, took a nap in my bed while I was in my music lesson. He did it.”

“I didn’t come to your room today,” I protested.

By now, I’d spilled plenty of my seed, but only in my own bed and only at night in my sleep when I couldn’t help it. Unfortunately, some dreams ended with a sharp shot of pleasure followed by a release. They left me sweaty in the morning and my thighs slicked and sticky. There was no way of stopping these dreams. Gods knew I’d tried.

The difference between Emil and me was that I wasn’t a lord and had no valet. I changed my own sheets and cleaned them myself as needed, with no one knowing.

“He did it!” Emil’s conviction increased as his lie grew more elaborate. “I found him there after the lesson.”

Lord Ciric, the lady’s husband, appeared at the threshold of the room, probably alerted by the screams of his wife and son.

“What’s going on? Why is this noise?”

“Leave, Ciric,” his wife hissed at him through her teeth. “This does not concern you.”

---