Page 32 of Of Song and Scepter
“What are you up to, Wicked?” I whisper, narrowing my eyes as I watch her. Did she not experience enough of that beach this afternoon?
She pauses at the waterline, stripping her chest piece, then her skirts. The clothing drops to the sand in a heap, revealing that scanty loincloth beneath. She gathers it in her hands, folding it into a pouch on her belt.
Thatass.I tighten my grip on my shaft and moan. What I would do to have her here, bent over this balcony. The ways I would punish her for making me lose control.
Growling, I thrust into my hand, watching those hips and her round, bare ass. She dips her toe into the water, testing it, then plunges into the sea. The waves swallow her, finally, and I can no longer see her.
My palm is slick with pleasure, and I slip in and out, picturing her mouth, her wicked, dangerous mouth. I wonder how it would feel to have those lips slide around my cock. I want to punish her. For her words today. Her brutal defiance of me. How dare she not tell me who she was?
Did she think it was funny?
I tighten my grip and thrust, losing myself to the angry pace. Again. Again. I bend over, caving in to my need. My cock glistens with sweat and pre-cum. I’m losing control. I cannot stop. My anger builds, and with it, pleasure blooms.
This is so wrong.
I search the waterline for any sight of her. I need to see her. To watch her while I come.
Her head breaks through the water, and with a flick of her black tail, she floats on her back. Relief floods through me, and my cock jerks at the sight of her.
She’s not mine.
But I wish she was. With a final stroke, my balls tighten, and I climax, panting, my cum shooting into the night air in thick ropes. I can’t remember the last time I came that hard.
I stare, shame burning my ears. Why did I do that? Why couldn’t I control myself?
Enna’s hands reach skyward then, as if grasping the face of the moon. She opens her mouth and screams without a sound.
The scales along my skin rise. My feet stay glued to the patio, suddenly unable to move. I watch her, floating in her raw emotion, and my heart softens.
She turns and dives into the water, skipping in long, graceful arcs toward the shrunken beach. When she reaches one of the boulders jutting through the surface, she crawls upon it and curls into a tight ball. Her tail shifts into legs, and she stills.
I wait for her to move. To scream. To look up and spot me watching her, at least. Can she sense what I’ve done?
The handmaid only curls into a ball on the boulder, and I regret it’s not my bed.
Chapter twenty
Enna
I drag a combthrough the tangles of Odissa’s hair. I woke before dawn to prepare her for the day, and by the time we reach the rendezvous for the morning’s kingdom tour, my limbs are limp seaweed.
I roll my shoulder, and a sharp pain stings between my shoulder blades. My body feels like it has been repeatedly pounded against a rock. My sleep on the boulder last night was anything but restful, after all.
Clio waits for us on the beach, a lacey parasol tucked under her armpit. When she asks me if I slept well last night, I nod and give her my best impersonation of a smile.
On the beach, Odissa paces slowly in a thin pink skirt, frowning at the waves and digging trenches in the sand.
The sun peeks above the horizon, staining the sky with color, first a pale gray, then purple, then pink. I squint into the sky, already missing the dark blanket of night. The merchants in Vespyr lied to me, the little fuckers. The sun isn’t a green ball of glowmites, and I’m no longer interested in its burning rays.
“Is the prince usually late for appointments?” Odissa asks.
“Not usually, Your Highness,” Clio says.
She resumes her pace, making three more passes before the gate finally opens and the prince walks through, followed by Hugo. The prince’s movement is efficient, each step sure and solid. He towers over the merman next to him. His eyes burn through me, as if trying to persuade me with the fierceness of their glare. The skin beneath his eyes is swollen with lack of sleep. With a quick flick of his gaze, he studies me up and down, snagging on my leather gloves before landing again on my eyes. I raise my chin to meet his glare.
The prince is angry. I can see it in the flex of his jaw.
Clio clears her throat. “Welcome, Your Highness.”
