Page 67 of The Ballad of a Bard

“Crimson-”

She hated how much she liked her name on his tongue, the quiet pleading behind it and it was only kindling to her fire. What would it taste like if he uttered it into her own mouth?

“West.” She said firmly, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. There was only so much that she’d lower herself to,and she’d already begged him to take her. Anything now, and it would be almost degrading.

“I-” His swallow was audible as he took a single step closer, arm outstretched as if he wanted to touch her, console her, comfort her.

But those were all things a friend did and at that moment, she wasn’t thinking about him as a friend. It would be wrong to call him that as she thought those sinful things. The blood still raged about her system, enough that Crimson was an inferno of desire and dangerous thoughts, ones that weren’t going to stop. No matter how much cold water West forced her to stand under.

She needed to ride something.

Him, or her own hand.

“I’m not trying to hurt you.” West said quietly. “I’m just being honest with you, because you deserve nothing but the truth.”

She needed him to leave before he stood there and watched her do something beyond his comfortable boundaries that he kept nailing into place.

“Go, West.” She barked, perhaps a little brutally but there wasn’t much time left before her hand snaked down and brought about her own pleasure. If he wasn’t going to do it, then she sure as hell was.

He flinched, eyebrows faltering as they raised up. As if he realised that she wasn’t messing around and actually wanted him to leave. Crimson almost wanted to laugh at the sincere surprise she found there, since he was the one who told her that he’d be staying in another bed, another room, anotherlevelfor Saints sake.

“Fine,” His voice was hoarse as his throat bobbed. “I’ll see you… whenever we find more clues to Heartache’s whereabouts.”

The captain fell back, still looking rather astounded but left her there before she could say another mean word. She didn’tmean it but she was going to burst. The blood of her father swirled through her system, igniting every cell, every vein, every bone it licked and she couldn’t take it anymore.

As soon as his umber head of hair disappeared behind the wall, the handle curved and she heard the door shut, Crimson tossed off the damp towel. It slumped to the floor and she crawled onto the bed, tugging at the laces of the corset that was soaked to the bone. It was a struggle to pull the cord out of the assigned holes, one by one but she managed after tearing at the knot that held it all together.

Once she peeled that part away, she was left bare from the waist up. It was easy from that point to shrug out of the underthings, to kick them aside.

Before, when she and her brother shared a bed, she didn’t dare to touch herself. It’d felt wrong, oily, to even think about. But pleasure was a natural part of life and even if she’d never taken a lover before, she’d thought about it plenty of times. Instead, she’d waited until the bathing chamber at the Pits was free and allowed herself fifteen minutes of muffled pleasure.

Her legs hesitantly spread apart as her hand drifted southward. The scent of West surrounded her, on his sheets, on his pillows, on her, truthfully. She wondered how he’d react if he smelled her arousal on his sheets when he came back. Her eyes closed and she pictured his face right before things had come undone.

He’d pressed her against the shower wall and it was that lustful look in his eyes as she squirmed against him that she imagined, just as her finger traced her sex. She gulped, unsure if West was truly gone, or if he’d barge back in and stop dead in his tracks if he saw what she was doing.

In his bed.

To the thought of him.

It only fueled her passion, her legs falling even further apart as she ran up and down her lips, waiting for the perfect moment to dip her tip in and pretend that it was something else.

His hands.

His tongue.

Him.

Crimson’s breathing became laboured as she thought back to how close they’d been shoved together. As his hands held her to the wall, pinned her against the shower stones. As his mouth hovered so close to hers that she could almost taste it.

She became slick at the thought.

Her finger tested the waters first, pretending that West was here with her as his moonlight and stardust scent filled in, sliding into her with ease. It wouldn’t be hard, not with how often she wanted him.

“Do you know how absurdly tempting you were tonight?”

The soft growl that toyed with his words played on repeat in her head, allowing her to picture him with her now.

Crimson bit down on her lip to muffle her moan as her palm met the apex of her thighs. Not to be quiet, because there was no one around to hear her, but out of sheer habit. She slowly inched in, then back out, then in again. Her hands weren’t relatively small but she’d consider them small in comparison to his.

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