Page 36 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

The knife does not respond.

Hmm. Thinking about Nemeth makes me think about other things. Naughtier things. I stroke my hand down the front of my bodice. “Does Nemeth still think about me when he touches himself?”

Yes.

My insides clench, and I think about that claw that skimmed up and down my bruised arm.

“Did Nemeth touch himself to thoughts of me when I was sick?”

Silence. There’s that, I suppose. He’s not an absolute pervert.

“Has he touched himself to thoughts of me recently?”

Yes.

“Today?” I ask, scandalized.

Yes.

“Rightnow?”

Yes.

Oh. My lips part, and I stare up at the shadowy ceiling in a mixture of shock and titillation. After giving me so much griefabout wanting a moment alone, he’s taking this time to quickly rub one out? To the thought of me? I stroke my hands up and down my bodice as I consider that, utterly fascinated. I picture a big, skull-sized fist wrapped around his cock, squeezing and twisting as he shuttles into his grip. He’d need large equipment for that to feel good, I bet, because his hands would dwarf his cock otherwise.

I haven’t touched myself since I arrived in the tower, I realize. Is that why I’m so fascinated with the thought of him touching himself? Or is it because he’s jerking off to me? I haven’t been a chaste princess. I’ve always known I can’t get pregnant, due to the blood curse, so saving myself for marriage seemed rather silly. I slept with my first lover when I was fifteen, and I’ve had a string of them since then. Sex is a craving, and I’ve been so preoccupied with survival in this tower that I’ve had no time to even think about it.

But I’m thinking about it now.

I’m thinking about him touching himself, and how good it must feel to release. Where does he come, I wonder? Into his hand? A cloth he keeps for such purposes? Does he call my name while he’s doing so?

The knife pulses between my breasts, and I shiver with arousal.

I’m tempted to follow his lead and touch myself, to give my body a quick, dirty release, but with my luck, he’d show up in the shadows the moment I put my hand under my skirts. He’s probably already done.

Yes.

There goes that idea. I sit up on my bed and glance around my quarters once more. He wants me to return to his room, and it’s more practical, of course. We can share fuel and meals. We can make everything go twice as far.

It’s just that it also means sharing a bed. He’s slept next to me for the last several days, but I’ve also been ill. The moment I closed my eyes, I was fast asleep, and didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Now, though, I’m going to be acutely aware of his presence. I’m going to think about him touching himself.

Does lying beside me in bed arouse him? Is he hard and aching as he lays at my side?

It’s going to be a long winter.

I find a pair of thick woolen stockings and then decide to head back downstairs before Nemeth comes looking for me, or before I get any ideas on seeking my own release. Composed, I shake out my skirts and then pick up the light, exiting the chamber.

When I get back downstairs, I see the door to Nemeth’s room is open, warm, bright light pouring from it. He sits upon his stool by the fire, a large book in his hands and open to the middle. His expression is serene, as if he’s been sitting there reading the entire time I was gone. Such a liar. I smile sweetly at him, feeling a bit naughty at knowing his secrets. “See? I’m fine.”

He eyes me, his gaze moving over my tight-waisted dress. “Isn’t that get-up uncomfortable?”

“This? Not at all.” I put my hands to the bodice and give my tits a jiggle. “It keeps everything in place.”

Nemeth quickly looks away again. “I see.”

It takes everything I have not to smile.

Chapter

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